Darkest Desire (7 page)

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Authors: Tawny Taylor

BOOK: Darkest Desire
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“I'm not trying to seduce you. I'm not hiding an ulterior motive.”
“Right, I know that.” She didn't sound so sure.
He fluffed some cushions behind her so she could lean back, semi-reclined. As he worked, he angled over her. She was close enough to touch, to kiss. It was agony. Never had he been so aware of a woman before. His skin sizzled whenever she was near. She didn't even have to touch him and he was warm all over. Warm and hard and eager to take her.
After prolonging the inevitable and abandoning his pillow fluffing, he sat back on his heels. “Better?”
“Um, sure.” Her eyes sparkled a little as she looked up at him. At least, he was convinced they were sparkling. “I was fine before, but thanks.”
“You're welcome.” He settled in beside her and lifted one arm up. “Now, could you sit forward for a second?”
She caught on to what he was doing and eased forward to allow him to rest his arm behind her. Then she settled back in place.
“How's that?”
“It's . . . okay.”
They sat like that, silent and slightly uncomfortable (actually, he was very uncomfortable, thanks to a raging erection) for a while. Finally, he shifted slightly, pulling her into his side. As expected, she stiffened.
He asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
Moving slowly, he cupped her chin, turning her head until she faced him. “I've been waiting for this for a long time.”
Her lips parted slightly. Those were lips that he would taste. Soon. Very soon. And it would only be him. For now, he would be content to brush his thumb over their plump fullness.
She gave a little shudder as his finger grazed her lower lip, but she didn't move away. Her pupils dilated. That was a good sign. “Malek.”
He shifted toward her, aiming for her jaw. He kissed a line from her chin to her neck. “Yes, Lei?” he asked, nuzzling her, drawing in her scent. Deep. Deeper.
“Malek,” she repeated, sounding a little out of breath.
This time, he didn't respond. He doubted she expected him to. Instead, he nibbled and nipped his way down her neck. And while he did that, she gathered his shirt in her fists, digging her fingernails into his upper arms. The pain only amped up his body's response. His blood pounded through his veins now, beating a steady but swift thrum from his head to his cock.
“Malek,” she whispered as she tilted her head to one side to give him better access to the crook of her neck. “I thought you were going to just touch me.”
He glanced up at her face, noted the flush staining her cheeks, then went back to tormenting her with his lips, teeth, and tongue.
Her skin was salty-sweet. Delicious. And her scent was clean and pure and intoxicating. The little whimpers and sighs that slipped between her lips were like the sweetest music he'd ever heard. They made his heart soar.
She was doing it. She was submitting to his touch. And he couldn't be happier.
He would be the one to heal her scars. Only he.
“Let me show you how much pleasure a touch can give,” he murmured as he eased his hand under her shirt. He wanted to explore every inch of her body. But not today. No. Not yet.
“I... I...” She shivered, released his arms, and then flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, God.”
Malek checked her face again. That pink shade had deepened. Her eyes were closed, thick, sooty lashes fanned over the translucent skin beneath her eyes. “Look at me, Lei.”
Her lids lifted. Her eyes focused first on his mouth, then his eyes.
He said, keeping his voice low, soft, “I'm going to touch you on the stomach.”
She nodded and closed her eyes, stiffening slightly.
His hand crept up a little, after hovering over the heat at the juncture of her thighs. Rather than tease her with little shy touches and tickles, he set his hand firmly on her stomach.
She gasped. Her eyelids jerked up. Her expression changed from one of desire to one of fear and confusion. “Rrrrreee.”
“You know what you need to say if you want me to stop. Do you need to say it? Do you need me to stop?” He didn't move his hand, not a finger. It killed him, but he did it. He kept it still.
Something else had been still, too. Much too still. Lei's stomach. She wasn't breathing.
She whispered, “I . . .”
“Breathe, baby. Inhale.” He inhaled with her, slowly drawing air in through his nose. “Good, now exhale.” He blew a steady stream out through his mouth. “Yes, that's the way. Again.”
She breathed with him, in and out, in and out. It didn't take long for her anxiety to ease.
“We can stay like this as long as you need,” he whispered. “Until you're so comfortable you don't even realize my hand is there anymore.”
The corners of her mouth twitched. “If we do that, we may be here until springtime. Maybe longer.”
Lei was dying. Her insides were a mixed-up jumble of conflicting emotions. Her nerves were blazing, overloaded by sensations. She wanted it all to stop. And yet she didn't.
Here she was, reclined against Malek, his hand resting softly on her stomach, and you would think she was in a torture chamber. She hated that such a simple thing, such a simple, common pleasure, caused her so much agony. And she was determined to get past it with Malek's help.
The icy wall she'd erected around herself was beginning to feel more like a prison than a cocoon.
His chuckle reverberated through her body, sending little pleasant tremors quaking up and down her spine. Yes, there were good emotions in there, but they were overshadowed by the bad. Happiness and fear. Anticipation and uncertainty. Thrill and anxiety. If only it could be the other way around, and the good could start to overtake the bad. If only she didn't immediately flash back to those awful ugly days the minute a man laid a hand on her.
She jolted as a particularly horrific memory surged to the surface and she scrambled away from him. Then, frustrated and angry, she dropped her face into her cupped hands.
“Give it time,” Malek said.
“Dammit, I just want to forget. Why can't I forget?”
“The memories will fade.”
“That's what my therapist keeps telling me. But will they ever fade enough?” She uncovered her face to meet his gaze. Through watery eyes, she took in the sight of his worry-riddled expression. “You're no more sure I'll get past this than I am.”
“If there's any hope, you will. And I'll help you however I can.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I wish there was a pill I could take to make it all go away forever.”
“I wish there was one, too.” Moving slowly, he adjusted the blankets to help her stay warm. “I have a memory or two I wouldn't mind erasing.”
“Will you tell me?” Malek didn't respond right away, and Lei immediately regretted having asked him. How could she be so stupid? She'd just asked him to rehash a memory he was as desperate to forget as she. He'd never once asked her to talk about what happened to her. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—”
“I was young at the time. I don't know exactly how old, maybe four or five. I don't think anyone realizes I saw what I did.” Malek was staring into the fire now, as if the scene were playing out in the flames. “I watched my mother die.”
“Ohmygod.” Lei clapped her hands over her mouth.
His gaze slid to hers. “I still see her sometimes, looking at me, her eyes full of pain. Some of the details have faded, but not all. And every once in a while something will stir those memories back to the surface. A sound. A scent. And I'll feel all those emotions again, the terror and confusion.”
“I'm so sorry you saw that. You were so young.”
“This might seem weird, but I think that experience made me a better man. A stronger man.”
“Really? How?”
“I understand what other people are feeling, I think. More than I would have if I hadn't gone through what I did so long ago. And forgive me for saying this, but I believe your experience, as horrible as it was for you, will also make you a better person, too. If nothing else, you can look at a sex worker and not see something less than human like so many people do. You see the woman who is trapped in a life she didn't choose.”
“I wish I could help them all.”
“Maybe someday you'll help one get out.”
She had. She'd helped four. But look how that had turned out.
He added, “Maybe you'll help more than one.”
“I don't know. I think it's a lot harder than anyone realizes.”
Including me.
“It's not just a matter of getting them freed. They need help afterward, too. Help finding new jobs, safe homes, medical help breaking addictions. Look what's happening now. The girls who got out, like me, are turning up dead. I'm just one woman. One. I can't do all that for them. The problem is too big for just one person, too complicated.”
“Maybe it is too big. Maybe not. But that's not the point. You will eventually reach a crossroads and you'll have to make a choice. You'll either let your past cripple you or inspire you to do something good.” He reached for her face, and her whole body clenched. But she didn't back away. She refused to let herself shrink back from him. Malek was a good man, flawed but kind. And he cared a hell of a lot about her. He cupped her cheeks and eased her head down. Then he kissed her forehead and released her. “It's late. And I'm hungry. I believe someone promised me a Mexican dinner.”
“Sure, but it'll have to be delivery. Someone has put me under house arrest.”
“Delivery's fine.” He flipped back the covers, stood, and offered her a hand. “Ready to head inside?”
“Sure, but one last question. I never see you go to work. Do you work?”
“I do.” He sat, grinning. It was an I-have-a-naughty-secret kind of grin. “I write.”
“What do you write?”
His grin turned more wicked. “Novels.”
“What kind? Can I read one?”
“Maybe.” He smoothed the cover over her legs. Her heart skittered in her chest.
“ ‘Maybe.' Why not? Are you being secretive?”
“No, I'm not being secretive. I'm just not sure you're ready to read my books.”
“Why? Are they violent?”
“No.”
“Then ...?”
“Let's just say I live by the cliché. I write what I know.”
She connected the dots and nodded. “Ah, let me guess, is there perhaps bondage in your books?”
“Yes, there is.”
“Got it. And you're probably right. I might not be ready to read something like that, especially written by a male dom.”
“When you're ready, let me know.” He stood again. After dousing the fire in the fireplace, he offered her a hand up.
She accepted it. “Thanks, will do. By the way, I'm a little short on cash this week. . . .”
“No problem. Dinner's on me tonight.” His fingers wove between hers. Giving her a sideways glance as they walked up to the house, he added, “I'll take a rain check.”
7
A
fter calling Drako to talk about his potential choices in a wife, filling him in on the local deaths, and then spending the next half hour convincing his older brother that he didn't need to come rushing home—he could handle this situation without him—Malek went to the kitchen.
He was on edge. He was hungry. But more than that, he was frustrated, irritated. And it was all because of that damn conversation about his upcoming marriage.
He was close to Drako. He respected him because he was the oldest, the leader of the Black Gryffons. But a very small part of him felt slightly irritated when Drako tried to bust in and take over all the time. That was how he'd always been. This was especially true when it came to talking to Drako about anything personal, especially women.
Drako was really pushing him toward marrying April. But the more they talked about it, the more Malek wanted to dig in his heels and tell him no.
It wasn't that Drako didn't present some good arguments for going with April. He had. Drako had talked about how much more sense it meant to pick someone who was ready to be married, who didn't have a shitload of baggage hanging around her neck.
But...April? Even the thought of marrying April made his gut twist.
It wasn't that April was a bad person. Or that he disliked her for any reason. Rather, it was the thought of giving up Lei that made his stomach coil into a painful knot.
Of holding her at arm's length.
Of treating her as a sister, instead of a lover.
Of being close to her, within reach, and never being able to touch her again.
But... but...
As Drako had said, he had chosen a woman he had thought he couldn't love. It had turned out okay for him. Although things had been a little rough for a while.
Should he listen to Drako's advice? Go with April?
Or should he go for Lei and keep busting his head against the walls she'd built around her heart?
Drako's words echoed in his head,
Give it up. Lei doesn't want you. And you don't have enough time to make her want you. In the end, you'll only hurt her.
He saw her now, in the family room, sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace. Her legs were curled up. A quilt hid her body from him. She was reading, head tipped down. Her glossy black hair shielded part of her lovely face.
As if she sensed he was staring, she looked up. The corners of her lips curled. It was a shy, sexy, mind-numbing smile.
“I ordered dinner. It'll be here in about forty minutes.”
She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. “Did you talk to Drako?”
“I did. That's why I just got around to ordering the food.”
The smile faded. Worry darkened her eyes. “And . . . ?”
“He insisted on coming home.”
“Will he tell Rin?” she asked, closing her book.
“I talked him into staying in Spain.”
The relief on her face couldn't be clearer. She visibly inhaled, then exhaled. “They're not coming?”
“No.”
She bit her lip. It was quivering. And Malek could imagine cupping her chin and kissing her until she wasn't shaking anymore. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet.”
“Why's that?” she asked, chuckling softly, misreading his threat as a joke.
“Because I'm going to be the biggest pain in your ass until this is over. You won't step a foot outside that door without me.”
She stopped laughing. “You know, I was thinking about that. Is it really necessary?”
“Drako said it is. And I agree.”
Her lips thinned. She stared at her book, sitting in her lap. She blinked several times. “Okay.” She sighed heavily. “Fine.”
He hadn't expected Lei to jump for joy over having him be her shadow. But after that moment they'd shared out in the gazebo, he'd hoped for a better reaction than this. He could appreciate the fact that her life had been fucked up by those bastards. And she was trying hard to put it all behind her. But was it really so bad that he was going to be her bodyguard?
I should call fucking Talen and let him babysit her.
Nursing his bruised ego, Malek went to the kitchen, grabbed a few beers, took them up to his room, and turned on the TV, hoping it would distract him. He slumped onto the couch.
Three beers, a pleasant but slightly awkward Mexican dinner with Lei, and several hours later, he forced himself to make the call he'd been avoiding for days. He called Brent and asked him to come over.
He'd put off this conversation long enough.
Immediately, Brent could tell something was up. The minute he walked into the house, he asked, “What's wrong?”
“Let's go upstairs.” Not sure where Lei was, and afraid he'd be overheard, he took Brent up to his room. He closed the door.
Brent took in the collection of empty beer bottles, the plate and napkins, and the reality show playing on the TV and gave Malek a worried look. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“I don't know.”
Brent slanted a look that said
bullshit.
Malek flopped into the chair nearby and kicked an ankle up on the opposite knee. Then he dropped it back down, leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his temples. This was going to be a hellish talk, and he wasn't sure where to start.
Better to talk about something safe first. “I'm fucked in the head.”
Brent nodded. “It's a woman.”
“Yeah.”
Brent sat in the chair next to his, draped his arms over the armrests, and rested an ankle on the opposite knee. “They always fuck you in the head. Who is it this time? April?”
“No.”
“Then who? Jodi?”
“Not her either.”
“Well, damn, dude, you have a lot of women in your life. Want to give me a clue?”
Malek couldn't help chuckling at that statement. “I haven't fucked this one. That should narrow down the list.”
“Sure it does. Now I'm confused.” Brent looked confused, too. Not that Malek could blame him. “Who haven't you fucked?”
“It's Lei.”
“Who's Lei?”
“My sister-in-law.”
“Have I met her?”
“Not yet.”
“Okay.” Brent leaned forward, giving Malek the nonverbal go-ahead to tell his story.
“It's complicated.”
“Isn't it always when it comes to women?”
“But in this case, it's even more complicated. Lei is my brother's wife's sister. She was a sex slave, sold by her mother. Her sister hunted her down, and with my brother's help, bought her freedom.”
Brent's eyes went wide. “What kind of fucking mother sells her daughter into slavery?”
“A fucked-up one, that's what kind.”
“Yeah,” Brent nodded. “So, this Lei is hot?”
An image of Lei flashed through his mind, and he felt his lips tipping up into a semi-smile. In his imagination, he saw her gorgeous, expressive almond-shaped eyes. Her smooth porcelain skin. Her lush lips. “She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. But she's got problems.”
“Who wouldn't, if their mother sold them to slave traffickers?”
“Yeah.”
Brent shrugged. “So, you give her time, take it easy, right?”
“Right.” If only he could give her time. If only.
This is it. Time to tell him about getting married.
“Except there's a problem. Our family has some . . . unusual traditions. And I need to get married. Soon. That's what I really needed to talk to you about tonight.”
Brent's face paled. “You? Married? How soon?”
“By January first.”
“January first? That's fucked up.” Several emotions seemed to play over Brent's face, including shock, disbelief, and maybe pain. He stared down at the floor for several long, excruciating seconds. “What happens if you don't want to get married?”
“My wife will be picked for me.”
“Fuck. Who does that anymore? I mean, nobody arranges marriages anymore.”
“Some do.”
Brent scrubbed his face with his palms. Malek could tell he was struggling to hide his feelings, but he was failing. And Malek's heart ached, seeing Brent like this. “Married,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Do you want to get married?”
“It depends.” Malek reached for him and set his hand on Brent's. “It doesn't have to change what we have.”
Brent didn't respond right away. He stared at the floor. And Malek stared at him, studying every inch of his face. Damn. He'd known this would be hard. That was why he'd put this conversation off for as long as he had. But he didn't think it would be this bad. For one, he'd assumed—stupidly—that Brent wouldn't care whether he was married or not. So many of their friends lived in open marriages, it was almost expected. Finally, Brent said, “How long have you known?”
“I've known I'd be expected to marry eventually for a while, since before Drako's wedding. But I just found out about my deadline a few days ago.”
“Before I came over last?”
Malek nodded. “I didn't know how to tell you.”
“Shit.”
He hated to see his friend, his partner, his confidant and lover suffering like this. He longed to embrace him, kiss him, tell him nothing would change. But the truth was, he didn't know now if that was possible, as much as he wanted it.
He loved Brent. His heart ached when Brent hurt. His heart leaped when Brent was happy. He couldn't imagine life without Brent.
“Let's get back to Lei,” Brent said, avoiding the topic of their relationship for now. Malek had a feeling it was too painful for him to discuss at the moment. But sooner or later they would have to talk about their future. After this, Malek wasn't looking forward to that conversation. Absolutely, Malek wanted to continue being lovers. But in the long run, what Malek wanted didn't matter. Malek had to focus on Brent's happiness, not his own.
As a dom, that was his obligation.
As a lover, that was his commitment.
Malek said, “I have feelings for Lei. Complicated, confusing feelings for her. And when I try to imagine myself married to another woman, I get this empty, hollow sensation inside.”
“So, marry her.”
“She's not ready for marriage yet. She's not even close to ready.”
“Can't you put it off for a while?”
“No.”
Brent surged to his feet. “Dammit, this is fucked up.” After shooting Malek a glare, he began pacing back and forth. “I don't get it. What difference would a few months, or a year make?”
Of course Brent didn't get it. Not many people, outside of his own brothers, would. “There are reasons for my family's traditions.”
Brent stopped pacing and locked an angry stare on Malek. “Yeah? Like what?”
“I can't get into it.”
Instantly, Brent closed up. Malek watched him emotionally shut down. His eyes became cold; his expression blank. Brent was a generous, giving lover, and his best friend. But whenever something came up that Malek couldn't discuss with him, Brent became extremely hurt. More than once, the issue had almost cost them their relationship. “I don't know what you want me to tell you, then. You've got to marry someone. You pick or your wife is picked for you.” Brent checked his watch, then smoothed his palms down his legs. “I gotta go. I'm meeting someone in a half hour.”
“Brent, I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you everything.”
“I wish you could trust me.”
Brent left.

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