Captive but Forbidden Read online

  “As sweet as a tiger,” she said a moment later. “A tiger who’s just eaten and won’t be hungry for a while.”

  He couldn’t help but return her smile, though his chest ached. She was infectious like that. “Oh, I’m definitely hungry,” he said. “But I have excellent self-control.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” She ducked her head so their eyes no longer met. And then she delivered what would have been the death blow had he been a weaker man. “Because I seem to have none at all when it comes to you.”

  A moment later she was striding into the hotel, leaving him standing numbly on the sidewalk. Aching. Wanting. Cursing himself.

  Veronica woke up in the night, gasping for breath, the tail of some dream fading away. The air was dry, so dry, and her throat hurt. She didn’t care how cold it was, she needed to open a window, needed that fresh bite of outside air to cleanse her. She stumbled to the window and found the mechanism—then she was cranking the window up and the air rushing in made her gasp again.

  But it felt good. Clean.

  She stood at the sill, shivering, but feeling refreshed nonetheless. She couldn’t even remember the dream now.

  The door to her bedroom burst open, a bright light searing into her brain. It happened so fast she wasn’t able to let out even a squeak of surprise. The light winked out again and a voice asked, “What in the hell are you doing?”

  Raj’s voice. Relief slid through her, made her weak. If he’d been out to harm her, as he’d pointed out so recently, no one could have stopped him.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” she said.

  Raj crossed the room so silently that when he arrived at her side, she jumped. Then he was cranking the window closed again.

  “Hey,” she said. “I want it open.”

  “Too bad,” he replied. “It’s not safe.”

  She could only blink into the blackness. But then light flooded the room as he snapped on her bedside lamp. The bright spots left from the light he’d shined when he’d first entered still marched across her vision. Big green splotches that made him indistinct if she looked directly at him. She turned her head, peered at him sideways.

  He loomed, big and solid and oh, so unapproachable. He was completely different than he’d been earlier. He’d charmed her, held her, soothed her. Kissed her.

  And now he was back to treating her as if she was something unappealing that he’d found on the bottom of his shoe.

  Her temper sparked. “Do you mean to tell me that it’s not safe if I open the window a crack on the tenth floor of a hotel? For a few minutes?”

  “Precisely.”

  She popped her hands onto her hips. “What kind of world do you live in, Raj? Because I’m not sure I want to be a part of it.”

  “You already are,” he said. For the first time, she noticed that what she’d always assumed to be a mild British accent had taken on a distinctly American twist. “It’s your world, not mine. You entered it when you ran for president. You bought it when you got elected.”

  What had gotten into him? Before she could dwell on it, something else occurred to her. “How did you know the window was open?”

  “A small sensor,” he said matter-of-factly.

  A sensor. He’d put sensors in her room. She was familiar with that tactic. She’d been thinking of him when she’d dressed with such care tonight, and he’d been busy thinking of how to control her.

  Her blood ran cold. She’d snuck out of her father’s house once, when she was sixteen. He’d been so furious once he’d caught her that he’d had the place wired like a military compound.

  Oh, yes, she knew about sensors.

  Veronica worked hard to control her temper. What had happened to her as a teenager had nothing to do with now. She was someone who needed protecting, someone with big responsibilities. Raj had only been doing what she’d agreed to let him do.

  “You could have told me,” she said tightly. “I wouldn’t have opened the window if I’d known.”

  His look was dark. “Most people don’t open the window at 3:00 a.m. in the middle of winter.”

  “I won’t be caged in,” she said, panic rising in her throat as her insides clenched in fear. “I won’t be controlled.”

  “Then you should have considered another career path,” he said coldly.

  She hugged her arms around her body. Her vision was still splotchy, but she could see that Raj was still in his tux. Or, partially in his tux. The jacket and tie were missing, and the top couple of studs were gone. His sleeves were rolled partway up his forearms. She realized that she’d never seen his bare arms before.

  A shiver rippled over her.

  Raj swore. “You’ll catch a cold,” he said gruffly as he came and put an arm around her, herded her toward the bed. “I thought you had more sense than this.”

  “I’m fine,” she protested.

  “Then why are you shaking?” he demanded.

  She couldn’t answer, not without giving away the secret of how he affected her. Because, though she was slightly chilled, it wasn’t that making her shiver.

  She wanted to shrug away from his touch, but couldn’t. She was still so angry with him—and yet there was that electricity between them, that spark and fire that sizzled along her nerve endings the instant he touched her. It took her forcibly back to that moment outside the hotel when he’d told her he was hungry. Her insides had turned to jelly then. Her legs had wobbled. She’d wanted to take his hand and lead him to her bedroom.

  She hadn’t done it because she’d been confused. Did she want him because she felt close to him after the conversation in the car? Because she’d told him about the baby and she’d felt vulnerable? Because he’d held her hand and said he was sorry?

  She wasn’t sure, and in the end she’d done nothing.

  But right now all the same thoughts and needs were crashing through her again. And she was asking herself once more how she could want this particular man when she’d wanted no man for over a year now.

  Because he was wrong for her.

  He was beautiful, strong, proud, fierce. And too wild to ever be tamed. No woman would ever own this man, and she was no longer willing to be the sort of woman who was temporary.

  But oh, how her insides rippled and churned at his nearness. How her heart wanted the one thing that was forbidden to her.

  He pulled the covers back and held them.

  “Get in,” he said. She obeyed because she was starting to shiver in earnest now. But she hardly believed it had anything to do with the ten seconds of fresh air, and everything to do with him.

  “Don’t think I did it because you told me to,” she said when he dropped the covers on top of her.

  His mouth twisted. “I would never think that, Veronica. You would just as soon die of exposure than do what I say. If you’ve gotten in bed, it’s because you wanted to.”

  She closed her eyes. “Too right.”

  “Don’t open the window again.”

  “I understood the first time,” she said. “Raj?”

  He turned back to her. “Yes?”

  “Will you stay and talk to me for a little while?”

  He didn’t move, and she wondered if he would tell her no. But then he nodded, came over and sat on the edge of the bed farthest from her.

  She didn’t know why she’d asked him to stay, except that she’d suddenly not wanted to be alone. She couldn’t remember her dream, but it hadn’t been a good one. She felt restless, keyed up, anxious.

  There was a time when she couldn’t stand to be alone at all, when she’d had twenty-four-hour parties full of all the laughter, music and chatter she’d been denied growing up. She was no longer that person, but she still sometimes felt the weight of silence pressing in on her.

  She deserved that silence, considering what she’d done. But tonight she couldn’t handle it.

  Veronica reached up and turned out the light, needing the anonymity of utter darkness. She could feel the solid pr
esence of Raj nearby. Just like yesterday, it was comforting. She put a hand to her head, rubbed one temple. It was all the travel, all the days spent in hotels—all the days spent being serious and worrying about Aliz—that made her grateful for his company now.

  She waited for him to speak, to say anything at all, but he didn’t. She huffed out a sigh. “You aren’t talking.”

  “Neither are you.” She felt him move, the bed dipping as he slid up against the headboard and stretched out his legs.

  “Where did you grow up?”

  He muttered something beneath his breath. “Tell me about you. It’s far more interesting.”

  “I disagree,” she said. “I want to know why you sound British but sometimes use American phrases.”

  He blew out a breath. “My mother was American.”

  “See, that’s interesting. Did you grow up in India?”

  “No.”

  “Is it a secret?” she prompted when he said nothing else.

  “No. But it’s not important.”

  Veronica sighed. “Fine. Don’t talk about it, then.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I grew up in Aliz,” she said, because she needed to say something. “I never left until I was eighteen. And then I didn’t go back until my father’s funeral two years ago.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. We weren’t close, but we were … working on it….”

  She’d tried to make her peace with her father. They’d been speaking more frequently in the months before his death. She sometimes couldn’t believe he was gone. Though she understood now what had motivated him to be so overprotective, she’d had a hard time forgiving him for it.

  “It’s good you were trying.”

  “I think so.” She turned on her side, facing Raj. She could see the outline of his profile in the dim light coming from the bedside clock. “What you’re really wondering is why the people elected me president since I hadn’t actually lived in Aliz for many years.”

  He didn’t hesitate before answering. “I wonder why you ran, not why they elected you.”

  She thought of her father, of Paul Durand. Of the hope and delight she’d seen in the eyes of those Alizeans who believed in her ability to change things for the better. “I thought I could do something good for the country.”

  “I think you probably can,” he said. “I think you already have.”

  For some reason, that made her throat tight. “I’m trying,” she said. “It’s very important to me.”

  She thought he laughed softly. “Veronica, I don’t think there’s anything in this world you can’t do once you set your mind to it.”

  “I’m sure there are a few things,” she said, her eyes stinging as her voice caught. Damn it. This was not at all what she’d intended when she’d started talking.

  But this was how it had been since she’d lost her child. The yawning cavern snuck up on her when she least expected it, threatened to consume her.

  Beside her, Raj swore again. And then he was moving, closing the distance between them and gathering her to him. She didn’t protest, though she knew she should. How many times did she have to lose her composure in front of him?

  Instead, she buried her nose in his pristine shirt and breathed him in. She loved being close to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No,” she replied, her fingers curling into his shirt. “You were paying me a compliment. I liked it.”

  She could hear his heart thudding in his chest. It beat faster than she’d have thought. For some reason, that made her happy. Raj Vala—strong, amazing, sexy Raj—wasn’t unaffected by holding her close. Perhaps he was a little bit human after all.

  “But it made you think of what you’d lost.”

  She swallowed, unable to tell him the rest of it. Unable to say that she blamed herself and always would. “You can’t guard what you say in hopes I won’t.”

  His grip on her tightened. “I wish I could say something. Do something. I’d take away the hurt if I could.”

  She knew he meant it, and it touched her more than she could say. A lone tear seeped from her closed eyes and trickled down her cheek.

  “Just hold me,” she said. “It’s enough.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RAJ knew he was losing the battle with himself. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was somewhere—anywhere—but here, in her bed, holding her close and listening to her soft breathing. He felt the bite of moisture on his skin, knew she was crying. He wanted to make it stop, wanted her to sleep again. He didn’t know how to make it happen.

  She didn’t make any sound, but her body trembled in his arms.

  “Veronica,” he said, his voice strangled, “it’ll be okay. Someday, it’ll be okay.” He wasn’t stupid enough to think that the kind of loss she’d suffered was something she would get over quickly. How could she? How could anyone?

  Andre Girard was a fool. And Raj had a sudden desire to hunt the man down and make him suffer the way Veronica suffered. She shouldn’t have to go through this alone.

  “I know,” she said, her voice so soft and sweet, hovering on the edge of control. “I get upset sometimes, but it’s normal.”

  He didn’t know what was normal and what wasn’t—but he couldn’t stand that she was in pain. He tipped her chin up with his fingers, lowered his mouth to hers. He meant it to be a soft kiss, a sweet kiss. A kiss of comfort.

  He should have known it was impossible.

  Later, he wouldn’t be able to recall who’d taken the kiss deeper first. But it didn’t take more than a moment for it to happen. She clung to him, her mouth warm and inviting, her soft sigh like fuel to the fire stoking low in his belly.

  He was harder than he’d ever been in his life. And he knew he was about to lose the battle between his head and his groin. He tried to remind himself of all the reasons he shouldn’t be doing this … and came up empty.

  He tightened his fingers in her hair—that glorious, lustrous fall of platinum silk—and gently pulled her head back as he broke the kiss. He had one chance left. One chance to end this free fall into insanity.

  “Tell me no, Veronica. Tell me to get out, and I will. For both our sakes, tell me,” he urged her. Because he was powerless so long as she clung to him. So long as she seemed to need his touch, his kiss, he was absolutely powerless to stop it.

  He shouldn’t be. He should be able to get up and walk away. He’d suffered unbelievable agony while training for the Special Forces, and he’d never broken. He’d endured.

  But he couldn’t endure her. She’d broken him, at least temporarily.

  One word from her, and he could regain his strength. He could disentangle himself, distance himself. One word was all it would take.

  “I can’t,” she said. “I don’t want to. I want you to stay.”

  He groaned, and the sound reverberated through her body. Veronica’s heart thundered in her ears. Heat prickled along the pathways of her nerves, slid deep into her senses, melted her core. She’d terrified herself with the words she’d spoken, and yet she’d known they were the right words.

  She was ready for this again, ready for the intense pleasure of being with a man. With Raj. There were so many reasons why she shouldn’t, why she should have said no as he’d told her to do, but she couldn’t.

  She simply couldn’t.

  He’d touched something inside her that had lain dormant for as long as she could remember. It was both shocking and compelling. Why now? Why him?

  Why?

  “I can’t promise you anything beyond tonight,” he said roughly. “You have to know that, Veronica. That’s why you have to make me leave.”

  She reached up and spread her palm along the shadow of his jaw. He needed to shave, but she loved the rough texture.

  “Just give me one night, then,” she replied, surprising even herself with the request.

  But he was untamable, this tig
er. He needed to be free. She understood that. She would take what he could give her and then she would free him.

  Veronica swallowed hard. For a moment, doubt assailed her. What was she doing? What was she getting herself into? Could she handle one night of passion between them? Was she really prepared for this?

  But then he kissed her again, and she knew she was ready. Her body was on fire for him. Sizzled and sparked for him. Her pajamas—silk tonight—felt like sandpaper next to her sensitive skin. She wanted them off, and she wanted to burn herself up in his embrace.

  In the dark of night, when no one would ever know.

  When tomorrow came, she would deal with the aftermath.

  His hand slid against the silk of her top, his fingers spreading to cup her breast. She moaned as he found and teased her nipple beneath the fabric. In answer, she tugged his shirt from his waistband, shoved her hands beneath it until she was touching the hot, smooth skin of his torso.

  His groan whipped the froth of her excitement even higher. She struggled against the blankets, wanting to be free of them so she could wrap her body around his. He obliged her by grabbing a handful and yanking them down.

  And then she was throwing a leg over his hip, pulling him to her. He rolled until he was on top of her, until that hard part of him she wanted so much was pressed intimately against the silk of her pajamas. In spite of the fabric between them, sensation streaked from her scalp to her toes when he flexed his hips and thrust against her.

  His mouth—his beautiful, magical mouth—made love to hers so thoroughly that she never wanted to stop kissing him. For some men, kissing was a bothersome prelude to the main course. For other men—for this man—kissing was an erotic act in itself.

  She’d never been kissed like this before.

  Never.

  But she wanted more than his kiss. Veronica pushed his shirt up as high as she could make it go. She wanted their clothes gone, wanted to feel bare skin on bare skin. Raj broke the kiss, reached over his shoulder and tugged the shirt over his head with one hand. She could hear the studs snapping, the fabric tearing.