"You haven't told me what happened tonight yet," she finally reminded him. "I've been pretty patient, Tarek." He grunted at that statement. "Yeah, I saw that while you were running through the rain."
He inhaled deeply, grimaced, and shifted restlessly in his chair. His hand rubbed at his arm, just below the bandage, as though to rub away the ache.
She ached for him, for that wound. The sight of his blood earlier had weakened her knees and filled her with a fear she hadn't expected. He had been hurt. While she dealt with the police and filing that stupid report, all she could think about was how severely he could have been wounded.
"I don't know," he finally answered, staring at her directly. "I knew someone was out there. I followed him. I caught him messing with the electric box and attempting to get to the back door when I tried to stop him." He pushed his fingers through his hair again, feathering the dark gold strands back from his face. "I don't believe he was after your TV set, though." She didn't like the sound of that.
"The security company said the alarm couldn't be dismantled in the electrical box. That it has a backup…"
"It can be done." He shrugged heavily. "Your system is residential. It has its drawbacks. I'll get you a new one tomorrow."
"I didn't ask you to do anything." She was growing sick of this cat-and-mouse game of his. "I want to know what the hell was going on. Any burglar worth his salt would have run when he was noticed. This guy didn't run. Why?"
"I don't know. I was hoping you would." That wasn't a lie. He stared at her, his unusual eyes darker, heavy-lidded…
She swallowed tightly. That was not lust glittering in the golden depths. Men like him didn't get turned on for frumpy little accountants.
She drew in a deep, uneven breath, flickering her tongue over her dry lips nervously. He followed the movement, his gaze heating.
Okay. This was odd enough. She could understand being hotter than hell herself, but now he was? Why? Did he have a flannel fetish or something?
"Fine. It was no big deal then." She crossed her arms over her br**sts just to be certain he couldn't see her ni**les pushing against the cloth. "I'll just go home…"
"Not tonight." His voice was darker, deeper. "It's not safe as long as your system is down. You can stay here or call your brothers. It's up to you."
"I can take care of myself." She drew herself up stiffly as she faced him.
He rose from the table, suddenly appearing stronger, broader, fiercer as he scowled down at her.
"I said, you could stay here or call your brothers. I did not give you any other choices." A growl echoed in his voice as his eyes seemed to glow with arrogant intent.
"I didn't ask you for choices, Tarek." She wasn't about to bow down submissively to him, either. "I don't need a keeper." His jaw tightened furiously, his lips thinning as he glared at her.
And that really shouldn't have turned her on further. But it did. She could feel the moisture gathering, pooling, spilling along the sensitive folds between her thighs. Her br**sts felt heavier, swollen, too sensitive.
And he wasn't exactly uninterested anymore.
Her gaze flickered down, her face flushing heatedly before she jerked it back up. He was filling out those jeans like it was nobody's business.
And he hadn't missed the direction of her look, either.
"Don't tempt me, Lyra," he suddenly warned her, his voice rasping over her sensitive nerve endings. "My control is shot for the night. Either call your brothers or march your sweet ass upstairs to my spare room, or you're going to find yourself flat on your back in my bed. Your choice. The only ones left. Make it."
Chapter Five
He was nearly shaking with the need to touch her. Tarek stared down at her pixie features, the blood pumping so hard and so fast through his veins it was nearly painful. His c**k was a torturous ache between his legs, the glands at the side of his tongue swollen and throbbing.
His hard-on made sense. The rush of blood was explainable. The tongue was an enigma, and the taste of spice in his mouth confusing. The only thing that did make sense was the need to kiss Lyra.
She had tormented him for months. Tempted him. Laughed at him and mocked him with a gentle, feminine warmth that shouldn't have touched him as deeply as it had.
The smell of her arousal was killing him. It was hot, liquid sweet, and he was dying to lap at the soft cream he knew was spilling from her pu**y. It would be hot, frothy with her growing need, and as rich as sunrise.
"Hell of a choice." Her arms tightened over her br**sts. He knew what she was hiding. The lush curves of her br**sts, her swollen ni**les.
"Make it fast if you don't mind," he growled. The erection was killing him. "Because the scent of your arousal is making me insane, Lyra. Pretty soon, I'm going to make the choice for you."
A whimper escaped her lips as her eyes widened in horror. In shame? He frowned as she paled and then flushed furiously, her eyes brightening as though with tears.