He glanced up and smiled into her eyes. “Better?”
Samira grinned, realising Ivan was kind and considerate as well as gorgeous. He attentively rubbed the part of her foot where the wrench had landed, then he gently massaged the sole, sending tingles of soothing arousal up her leg and between her thighs.
She smirked coyly. “The wrench banged my knee, too.”
Ivan laughed. He knelt up and ran his hands over her knee, brushing his long fingers over her thigh, and making her shudder with lust.
“Your skin’s so soft,” he whispered, focusing all his attention onto her thigh.
She glanced at the table, hoping for a distraction – otherwise she feared she’d melt into a pool of desire. She gestured to his laptop. “Don’t you ever stop working? You’re as bad as my cousin.”
He stopped caressing her leg. “We’ve got some special visitors coming tomorrow. I was just doing some last-minute planning.” He stood and pulled out a chair then sat down with her. “Your knee okay now?”
She grinned. “Yeah, your magic touch has healed it – thank you.”
He laughed. “Good.”
He reached out and held her hand as if they’d known each other years. “Look, don’t take this as weird, okay, but you captivate me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I was sitting here trying to work, but all I could think of was you.”
She squirmed with desire. “Well… thank you.”
He inspected her. “You know what I see when I look at you, Samira?”
She shrugged self-consciously. “A sexy girl?”
He chuckled. “Well, yeah. You’re a strong woman who’s been through a lot. A fighter – like me. But under all that, I see you for what you are.”
She scoffed. “Oh really? And what’s that?”
“Someone who’s been hurt and who’s afraid she’ll get hurt again. Someone who’s determined to keep the world out, in case it gets too painful. So instead you keep your head down, work hard, and avoid connecting with men in any meaningful way. Am I right?”
She stared at him, aghast. All those things he’d just said… it was as if he could see inside her soul; like he could really see her – the real her; for what she really was. Until now, she’d always felt invisible, but suddenly Ivan Quinlan knew her. And it felt wonderful; liberating.
She gazed into his sincere eyes and she suddenly understood. He knew these things because he was the same. She laughed. “Have you been reading my diary, Ivan?”
He laughed too. “Nah. Just mine. I’m right, though, huh? There’s no one special in your life right now?”
She shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I’m young. Sex is an act of rebellion for us Iranians. I’m enjoying myself.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Sex is fun. But isn’t it better when it’s special? When you give yourself over to someone; give them a little piece of you. And they give you a piece of them?”
Samira wanted to glance away from his eyes, but she couldn’t. “I do find it hard to give myself over. To give my heart and soul. Sex has become… automatic. Emotionless maybe.”
“I know. I’m the same.” He shook his head. “What are we like?”
She chuckled. “Both as bad as each other.” She didn’t know what it was about him that made her trust him so much, but she was compelled to tell him the truth about why she’d left her home. “Of course, you know, this would never be allowed in Iran.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“You and me being alone together in a house like this.”
He frowned. His deep masculine voice echoed through her heart. “Why?”
“Because it’s too much of a temptation. They don’t like people to enjoy each other sexually in my country.”
He gave her hand a tender squeeze. “That sure is a shame.”
“Yeah. It’s the shame of it that brought me to America. I was arrested for being alone with a boy in his home when I was seventeen.”
“Arrested? Are you serious?”
She nodded. The light flirty mood had now slipped away. She pulled her hand away from his, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “He was my friend from school. His parents were out for the night, so I went over to study with him. Admittedly, we did kiss, but nothing else. His parents came back early and his mother called the police, saying there was a prostitute in her house.”
“You were accused of being a prostitute?”
“Yeah. Just for being in his home. The police came and dragged me away – and I do mean ‘dragged’. I was terrified. My uncle who I’ve lived with since I was a child came to the police station to collect me, and the police were so rude to him, calling me a whore and telling him he should take more care of me. I realised I needed to get out of that country, so I opened up communication with Tariq. My uncle and aunt were happy for me to leave, knowing that if I was to stay in Iran, I’d probably end up going the same way as my dear parents.”
? Also By Julie Farrell
· The Billionaire's Heart · The Billionaire's Affair: Billionaire Brothers · The Billionaire's Secret: Billionaire Obsessio... · The Billionaire's Revenge: Billionaire Brother... · The Billionaire's Kisses: Billionaire Brothers · The Billionaire's Heart: Billionaire Brothers · The Billionaire's Heir: Billionaire Obsession · Billionaire Brothers ? Last Updated