Dark Carousel (Dark 26)

"What was wrong with him?" Genevieve countered. "Girl, face it, you held out forever, too busy for men and dating, and the first time you decide to indulge had to be crazy wild. But he knows better."

"I know better." Charlotte refused to shift the responsibility. "I wasn't thinking. And that bacon is going to make me throw up. I'm not kidding. Will you watch Lourdes just until I can pull myself together?"

"Of course. No problem. We'll eat breakfast and then go exploring."

"Keep her away from the lake."

"Will do. And Charlie, no one gets pregnant their first time."

Charlotte wished that were the truth. She pressed her hand to her heaving, protesting stomach again and began to back out of the room.

"Wait, hon, I made coffee and he has great coffee, a soft brew. The best. Let me get you a cup."

Charlotte shook her head and turned and fled before she vomited all over the floor. What was wrong with her that she hadn't shown one ounce of good sense or discipline? She'd practically thrown herself at the man from the first moment that he'd touched her. Granted, he knew what he was doing. No one got to that level of skill without a lot of experience, but still, she had her rules. She wasn't a one-night stand kind of woman.

She locked the bathroom door and turned on the golden faucets. In the small, white, antique cupboard she found bath salts and dumped them liberally into the hot water. What kind of bachelor had scented bath salts in his guest bathroom? One who entertained all the time--that was for certain. She was grateful the fragrance didn't worsen the churning in her stomach; in fact, it seemed to make it a little better.

Waiting for the claw-foot tub to fill, she pulled off her long gown and walked slowly over to the full-length mirror to stare at her body. She felt different. Not just a little different but very different. Her body was the same yet not. She had marks and smudges all over her. Little bites and bigger ones. A shiver went through her as she remembered how each of those brands had been placed so deliberately. She'd gloried in that last night. All night. She'd wanted him to mark her. She touched one smudge along her thigh, and instantly her feminine sheath clenched with need. For him. Tariq.

Charlotte cupped her breast, her thumb sliding across her nipple, and instantly she had a vision of his mouth over her soft mound. Sensation followed, the stroking of his fingers, the heat of his mouth, the erotic bite of his teeth. She touched the exact spot where his teeth scraped and bit, sending a streak of lightning straight to her clit. The impression was so real that damp heat collected and her body felt empty and needy all over again.

She wanted him for her lover. For her man. She wanted him to belong to her exclusively. Did men like Tariq Asenguard commit to one woman when they had several clubs and thousands of women to choose from? That was highly unlikely.

She touched the dark strawberry on the swell of her breast. Two tiny puncture wounds from his teeth were there, and once again sensations swamped her. That bite of pain resonated deep inside of her. She gasped as she felt the burn. The need settled into a continuous torture. She would never be free of her hunger for him.

The fragrance of the bath salts helped to soothe her when a part of her wanted to cry. She would never be the same, but did she even want to be? Did she wish she'd never met him--spent a long, beautiful, perfect night with him? Sinking down into the steaming water, she had to admit, she wouldn't have traded the experience for anything. Not. Ever.

She'd felt loved and protected. Safe with him. She'd trusted him with her body. Not just her body, she realized, but with her soul and maybe even her heart. It was impossible to fall for a man she barely knew, but they'd shared such intimacy she felt connected to him in ways she'd never connected to another human being.

The water soothed her body and she closed her eyes to savor the feeling. She was very sore, but every movement was a delicious reminder of his possession. She pulled her legs up and rested her head against the tops of her knees.

She was still tired, almost in a fog, but she couldn't allow herself to take advantage of Genevieve by letting her take charge of Lourdes's first day at the Asenguard compound. She just needed a few minutes to get herself under control. What was she going to do? You didn't sleep with the boss. Essentially, if she took the job of restoring his carousels--and she wanted the job very, very much; it was her dream job--she couldn't make the mistake of sleeping with the boss.

Of course she hadn't actually accepted the job yet. But she would if she hadn't already blown it. If he had the wooden horses Ricard Beaudet had shown her in the photographs, she had to take the job. Ricard had been so excited, believing them to be some of the oldest carousel horses in existence. Where a collector in the United States had gotten such treasures, Ricard didn't know, but he was certain they were authentic. If they were, Charlotte wanted to be the one to restore their splendor to the world, but . . . Her boss. She'd thrown herself at Tariq, and she still wanted him . . . desperately.

"Almost desperately," she corrected herself, not believing it, whispering against her knees. He'd kissed her knees. He'd woken her twice more, worshiping her body. There was no other word for it. He'd worshiped her. Slowly. Making her unravel. That had been just as good as the wild--and there had been a lot of the wild.

Her body shuddered, remembering the pleasure his mouth and hands brought her, the way his body stretched hers, filling her full, flinging her into a world of pure feeling, over and over again. The kisses. He'd kissed her like he was a starving man, so hungry for her. So worshipping of her. He'd made her feel as if she were the only woman on earth. The only woman for him. Could he do that and walk away from her the next evening?

She needed to know. She had to believe she wasn't just a one-night stand for him. If he could act that well, make her become something she had never imagined, a purely sexual creature, when she knew she wasn't, then he was the greatest actor on the face of the earth.

Charlotte sighed. She couldn't hide forever in the bathtub. The water felt wonderful on her tired, sore body, and the fog was beginning to lift. She glanced toward the window. It was covered with filmy Victorian lace and looked out over the lake. Shrubbery was everywhere, beautifully cared for, but left a little wild. Everything seemed to be a little wild on the property. She'd noted that even when she'd driven in so late and it had been dark. That should have given her a warning.

Sielamet, are you doubting me? Are you sorry you gave yourself to me last night? All night? You swore you were mine. I believed you and woke up happy. Did you?

His voice moved through her mind. Soft. Intimate. Compelling. Was there a note of hurt? Her heart clenched in her chest so hard she pressed her fist to her breast. She would never hurt him, not ever. Not for anything.

I woke up confused and a little scared. She tried thinking the words in her mind. Tried projecting them to him. Instantly she felt the connection between them grow stronger, as if she'd tapped into stored energy--or his mind was just that powerful.

Scared? Of Fridrick? Those men stalking you? They cannot get to you here. Safeguards are in place. The children living here as well as Emeline need to be guarded day and night. They choose to be here because we can protect them. Your friends--Grace, Genevieve--and you as well as little Lourdes are welcome to the same protection, although I am told Grace has refused.

Charlotte hadn't known that. She hadn't checked her phone and Grace was certain to have texted her as to why she didn't want to stay. She had no family and tended to stick with Charlotte and Genevieve. She was younger than them and had taken the job of nanny to Lourdes almost from the time Charlotte's brother had lost his wife. She'd only been nineteen years old.

Charlotte knew she could easily take the out that she was afraid of those pursuing her. It was the truth, but it wasn't the reason she'd woken afraid. She detested lying to him. Twice she started to let him believe that she was concerned for her safety, but the words just wouldn't come.

I didn't want to be a one-night stand. She had no idea how she could

talk telepathically to Tariq, but it felt easy. Right. I've never in my life done anything like that and I don't want you to think . . .

Do you think that I do not know that? I was with you last night. In your mind. Deep in your body. I know you belong only to me as I belong only to you.

Her eyes went wide with shock. What was he saying? He couldn't be whispering into her mind so intimately what the impression in his own mind was saying. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, her heart pounding fast. An impossibility given the fact that he was so confident, so clearly experienced. She'd seen his picture in tabloids, in magazines. He'd been written up in the society pages of the newspapers. She was misreading what he was saying to her.

There is only you. There has never been another nor will there be. There is only you.

His voice wrapped her up like a gift, soft and caressing, holding her close. Intimately. She felt the brush of his mind in hers. So gentle. She wanted to believe she would be his only, that everything he said to her meant something. She really wasn't a woman who could hook up with a man and go unscathed. She knew that about herself even in high school. When all her other friends were enjoying one another and relationships, she had felt an aversion to letting men touch her. She thought it was a trust issue, but she'd all but flung herself at Tariq and hadn't even been careful. Or smart. She'd gone against her very own code.

I'm not on birth control, Tariq. I swear I wasn't trying to get pregnant and trap you. I just didn't think about it, but that's no excuse. I want you to know, if something happens, I won't hold you accountable.