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