The Chatsfield Collection Books 1-8. Annie West
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seen Aaliyah.
“Yes,” he said when it appeared she was waiting for him to reply in some way.
He still did. Intensely. Even painfully.
His sex was harder than any muscle in his body right now—and he had abs of rock that could withstand blow after blow from a sparring partner.
“I’ve never had sex in an elevator,” she admitted like it was a deep, dark—even shameful—secret.
“I haven’t, either.”
“Oh.”
“I am not certain it’s as common an occurrence as romance movies would have us believe.”
“You watch romantic comedies?” she asked.
He shrugged. “My mother enjoys them. My father and I usually defer to her when we have an opportunity to watch a movie as a family.”
“That’s sweet.”
He was unaccustomed to being thought of as sweet and did not want to dwell on it. “Gene Chatsfield would have been very angry if there’d been evidence of sex that day, I believe.”
“He was mad enough,” she said dismissively.
“You don’t sound too worried about that.”
“I’m not.” Her lovely features twisted in a scowl. “I’m leaving the Chatsfield.”
He would have asked why, but Sayed’s mouth went dry as she shifted to put her water glass down on the coffee table. Her hair fell away, exposing one breast. The dark nipple under champagne-colored lace as hard and delicious looking as he’d imagined it to be.
He cleared his throat and poured another glass of ouzo. “Three years is a very long time.”
“Yes?” She blinked at him in more charming confusion.
“Yes.” He tossed back the shot and put the glass down. “Without sex. It is a very long time.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“No?” She was sexually active? That was a good thing, considering the things he was thinking about doing.
“Nope.” She hiccupped, covered her mouth and then laughed. “Sorry about that.”
He shook his head, his focus on her seminudity, not her hiccups. “It is nothing.”
“So, you’re saying you’ve gone without sex for three years?” Her voice was laced with both disbelief and shock.
“I have.” And considering Tahira’s recent actions, he seriously doubted his ex-fiancée could say the same.
Aaliyah gave him a probing look. “Are you telling me the truth?”
“Why would I lie?” he asked with more genuine curiosity than offense, though he was unused to having his words questioned.
“Because you’re hoping to talk me into bed?”
“I do not need to go for the sympathy vote to get a woman into my bed.”
“No, you probably don’t.” She looked him over in a manner that was both innocent and lascivious.
He flexed his chest muscles for her and groaned when her beautiful green eyes grew dark and bottomless with desire as she inhaled sharply. “You probably have loads of women panting after you.”
“I would not know. I spend very little time with single women these days.” His own honor mocked him in ways he’d never share with another.
“Why?”
“I was a betrothed man.”
“Oh.” She smiled, appearing very happy with some thought she was having. “You really are one of those guys.”
“What guys?”
“The ones who know how to be faithful, even before marriage.”
“I am not perfect, but once Tahira came of age and our engagement was made official, it would have been wrong to continue having lovers.”
“You never considered having sex with her...in three years? She never offered?”
“No.”
“That’s, um...”
“Proper.”
Her full lips turned down in a frown. “Not what I was thinking.”
“Pathetic?” Deluded of him? Sad?
He did not think that anything could cool his ardor, but the prospect that she pitied him proved extremely effective. He did not need pity sex, nor would his pride allow him to accept it, no matter how much he wanted her.
“I’m pretty sure pathetic is never a word anyone would use to describe you. I was going to say maybe you should have taken that as a warning.”
Just like that, the craving was back, his sex pressing against the confinement of his trousers.
“Warning?” he asked, not understanding.
“Presumably, she was just as happy to remain celibate.”
“At least with me, yes.”
“So, neither of you were sexually attracted to each other?”
“It would appear not.”
“You didn’t think that was a problem?”
“Marriages among those in position are not made for the same reasons as in your world.”
“Elitist much?”
He shrugged. He would not deny it. “Our worlds are barely in the same solar system.”
“Wow. It’s really true, in vino veritas. Although that’s ouzo you’re drinking, not wine.”
“I assure you, I do not need spirits to tell the truth.”
“Are you really that arrogant?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Of course. Our worlds are too far apart for us to communicate.” Her voice was laced with unmistakable sarcasm.
His wasn’t when he said, “Right now, we’re in the same space.”
It was kind of amazing, really. That he would be alone in a place of privacy with this woman who was a maid, but whom he wanted more than he had any woman in his memory.
Her head tipped slightly and she looked up at him in unconscious sensuality. “We are, aren’t we?”
“It is a moment out of time.”
She laughed out loud. “Arrogant and cheesy. Why do I still want to kiss you?”
He did not understand what she found so amusing. This was a moment that would never be repeated, could never be repeated. Yet he was grateful that destiny had written their meeting—here in this room that would never see his ex-betrothed—into their stars.
“Why shouldn’t you want to kiss me?” he asked, certain he wanted it enough for both of them but aware that if she didn’t he would do nothing about his own desires.
That damnable honor again.
“You think you are too good for me.”
“No.” He was shocked. “I did not say this.”
“What about the whole different-worlds thing?” she asked, sounding hurt.
Which had never been his intention. “That is reality, not a judgment on either of our values as human beings. There are emirs in neighboring countries I would prefer never to have to interact with again.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”