Dark Carousel (Dark 26)

Of course I am accountable; it would be my child, too. Do not worry so much over this. I would have known if you could get pregnant.

What does that mean? How could you know something like that?

You are getting cold. Get out of the tub and dry off. I want to show you the carousel horses you will be working on if you take the job.

She realized she was getting cold, so much so that she was shivering and the water was uncomfortable. If she could feel his emotions, she knew he could feel hers, but she couldn't feel him physically, so how could he feel her? A hand reached past her, and she had to muffle a small scream as Tariq reached into the rapidly cooling water and pulled the plug.

"I'm naked," she announced, making it a scandalized accusation. She felt breathless, not as shocked as she should have been, nor should she have been so glad to see him. She covered her breasts with her hands and turned to look up at him over her shoulder. That was a huge mistake. She was barely able to talk herself out of wanting him when he was away from her and she'd had a little time to think about how crazy she'd acted, but up close, the moment she saw him, the moment his scent filled her lungs, hunger, sharp and terrible, became a brutal need.

Her sex clenched. Went hot. The blood in her veins coursed through her in a rush of heat. Her breasts felt swollen and achy, the need for his mouth, his touch, hitting so fast and hard, tears swam in her eyes. "What did you do to me?" She murmured the question, dazed by her lack of control and the unfamiliar hunger beating at her.

Her hunger or his? She couldn't tell, she was so far under his spell. She could hear his heart beating. The sound was in her head. Thundering in her ears. Her heart followed that steady, rhythmic beat, and then to her horror, the pulse began strong and insistent between her legs. She wanted to put her hand there. Press her fingers deep to feel the beat. To assuage the need that threatened to overwhelm her. "What did you do to me?" she whispered again.

He crouched beside the tub, his fingers under her chin, lifting her face to his. The pad of his thumb slid over her skin, tracing her jaw and sending shivers down her spine with every stroke. "What is it, sielamet? Tell me why you have tears in your eyes and I feel your distress beating at me."

He drew her up out of the water, lifting her right over the edge of the tub so that she was standing naked and dripping in the circle of his arms. He seemed uncaring that she was up against his immaculate suit. The one that had to have cost thousands of dollars. Before she could move or protest, he took her arms and wrapped them around his waist, pressing her head against his chest at the same time, her ear right over his heart.

The moment his arms enclosed her, she felt safe and sheltered. She felt secure and a part of him. She closed her eyes on the burn of tears and let him make her feel safe when she hadn't for what seemed a very long time.

"I know, for you, this has happened fast between us, Charlotte," he said, his hand moving through her hair, fingers sliding through the wet silk, spreading the strands out and combing them as he did so. "That does not make it any less real."

It was too real. Too good to be true.

"Have you ever felt this way for anyone else? Because I haven't, Charlotte. Just you. The moment I saw you, I felt different. I saw the world differently. I have searched for you, hoping you were out there somewhere, but not believing I would find you. You're the reason I own the clubs."

She tilted her head to look up at him. He felt solid and very warm. Strangely, she felt warm, no longer covered in water drops from her bath. Even the shivering had stopped. He was magic. The way he made her feel was magic. "Kiss me again, Tariq. I want to know if I dreamt about you kissing me or if it was real."

He didn't hesitate. He bent his head to hers, his lips skimming hers in a barely there caress, but she felt that touch all the way to her toes. Her heart clenched and then her sex did. Her fists bunched in his perfect suit jacket. Held him tighter. Held him closer. Tried to become part of him. That close.

His mouth moved again over hers. Gentle. Coaxing. Not at all like his possessive kisses of the night before, but even so, he owned her with them. Just with his mouth, without all the rest of him, or what or who he was, and that was terrifying beyond anything she'd ever known, even the dangers of Fridrick and the three men stalking her. This was a threat to her heart. To her soul. If she lost him, if it wasn't real, she'd never get over him. Never. She knew that. She also knew it was already too late.

"What did you do to me?" she asked him a third time. He had stolen some part of her, and he'd managed to wind himself around her heart and steal into her soul so she couldn't tell what part of it was hers and what now belonged to him.

His coaxing kiss went from gentle to pure heat in the space of one heartbeat. Her mouth opened automatically under his when his tongue ran along the seam of her lips demanding entry. She gave it to him instantly, just like she'd given him everything else. Instantly. Without thought. There was no thinking when she was melting into him. When his hands slid down her back, taking in the curve of her bottom and going lower until he cupped both bare cheeks and brought her up on her toes so that her mound was pressed tightly against the thick hard bulge his trousers covered.

His kiss turned to pure fire pouring down her throat like lava, melting her insides, wrapping her heart in . . . him. She knew she was giving herself to him and he was claiming her. His kiss said that. It was hard and possessive and even demanding. She gave . . . everything. Everything she was and would ever be. Everything he demanded and even more.

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire. With passion. Lust was etched in the lines carved deep, but there was gentleness there and it turned her heart over as nothing else could have.

"You ask me what I have done to you, and I ask you what you have done to me. I can't think about anything but you."

She liked that. No, she loved hearing that. His voice was a smooth silken web she was trapped in. He wrapped her up in all that beautiful silk and velvet, his arms strong and his body hard. He was safety. Heat. Paradise. He could give her everything. She knew that just by kissing him. Her body remembered his and craved him. She had a taste in her mouth, an aphrodisiac that set up a hunger she didn't understand.

He kissed his way down her throat and over the swell of her breast. She felt his breath on that spot, on the mark he'd left on her like a brand. Her sex clenched again, a need so deep she could barely breathe with wanti

ng him. Her hands slid up around his neck, drawing him closer while her own breath hitched in her throat.

His hair was thick. Soft. Her fingers sifted through it and then clenched into fists as she cradled his head while he bit down and the pain lashed through her like a silken whip, striking every nerve ending, sending her crashing into the world of pure feeling.

Her lashes drifted down and she held him to her while his mouth pulled at that spot, tongue moving soothingly while he suckled. His tongue slid over the throbbing pulse as he kissed his way down to her bare breast, drawing her aching, demanding flesh deep into his mouth, his tongue lashing down, pressing, flicking, a weapon of destruction--destroying her. Her body fragmented, came apart, and she could only cling to him as the orgasm took her hard.

His hands pulled at her legs so that she wrapped them around him, locking her ankles at the small of his back. She had the sensation of floating. When she was with him, she couldn't quite orient herself, and even when she tried to lift her lashes, it didn't work. She fought for one moment to be strong, to at least look and see where they were going. He couldn't take her down the hall absolutely naked. And if he took her back to Lourdes's room and the child came in . . .

"See me, sielamet." Tariq whispered the words in her ear even as his body drove hard into hers. The hands on her hips slammed her down over him, and she sheathed him, her tight muscles reluctantly giving way for his invasion.

The air left her lungs in a rush of shock. He was big, pushing through soft folds, a steel intruder that dragged over the bundle of nerves and set every part of her body on fire. Charlotte lifted her lashes instantly, as if by his command; her body suddenly responded when all it really wanted to do was feel. His eyes blazed down into hers. So much heat. So much passion. She would burn forever in his passion, and yet eternity wouldn't be long enough.

Her gaze went from his to the familiar room. It was the room she'd been in with him before. She recognized it, although there were more sconces lit, allowing her to see more detail.