His Christmas Captive Read Free Page B

She had lied her way into what was, for her, a
spectacular marriage. He was the one who had to suffer the consequences.
    "So
that's why you disappeared," she said after a long moment. "You think
I lied about the baby and the miscarriage." Her brown eyes were wide with
distress, and one delicate hand hovered near her throat. This close, he could
smell her unique, intoxicating scent. The faintest hint of jasmine, the
suggestion of her warmth. He longed to haul her into his arms, to lose himself
in her as he had before. "That's why this is the first time I've seen you
in more than three months."
    "Despite
all evidence to the contrary," he said quietly, deliberately, holding her
gaze with his, "I did not want to suspect you of this. I wanted to believe
you were exactly who you claimed to be. A woman as swept away by what happened
between us as I was."
    It hurt him
to admit that, but it was true. It was just as everyone had warned him, though
he had been so determined not to believe it in the beginning. But what he had
never admitted was that there was some part of him that had been
relieved—because if she were that scheming, that grasping, it absolved him of
responsibility, didn't it? Every man had a weakness, even him. And he would
spend the rest of his life coming to terms with what his own weakness had
wrought.
    "You wanted to believe it," she said softly, her eyes moving over his face as if she
searched for something. Her lips trembled slightly as if she fought off some
great emotion. "But you did not."
    "My
investigator found out quickly enough that you weren't supposed to be working
at the club that night," Rafi said. "The only question is, how did
you know I would be there? Did you target me specifically, or were you simply
casting a wide net? I must commend you, Lucy. I was completely taken in."
    He let out a
hollow laugh, but he could not seem to help the way he drifted closer to her,
as if compelled. She did not move away.
    "Your
investigator," she said. She swallowed. "You mean your aide.
Safir."
    "He is a
loyal employee," Rafi said darkly. "Far better than I deserve. He
dared to tell me the truth about you when I refused to see the evidence before
me."
    "Let me
guess," she said in a tone he could not quite read—one both bitter and
very nearly amused, at odds with the turmoil in her coffee-colored eyes.
"A cocktail waitress must be in want of a wealthy husband, and any one
will do."
    Ignoring her
words, he reached out and traced the line of her collarbone, a hard
satisfaction moving through him when she shivered in response. She pulled her
wrap tighter around herself as if she were cold, but he knew better. Whatever
her plans, whatever her schemes, she could not have been prepared for this fire
that raged between them—this wild, maddening rush.
    He had stayed
away because he could not keep his hands off of her when he was near her. She
was temptation incarnate. Tonight, with her blond curls piled on her head, she
looked beautiful, and all he could think about was tasting the elegant line of
her neck. He wanted to peel the layers of her clothing from her magnificent
body and bury himself within her, again and again and again. When he touched
her, he didn't care that he was Rafi Qaderi and she was nobody. He didn't care
that she had altered the course of his life.
    He only
wanted her. Here, now.
    And this
close to her, he could not think of a single reason why that was a bad idea.
    "You
have bewitched me," he muttered harshly in his own language, well aware
she would not understand the words. And then, yielding to the very same urge
that had brought them here in the first place, he took her mouth with his.
    ***
    Rafi's kiss
was hot, slick.
    Perfect.
    She should
push him away. She should denounce him and the horrible things he thought about
her. She should tell him the truth.
    But Lucy
could not bring herself to do any of those things. She was awash in sensation.
The way he pulled her into his arms, pressing her