Parisa stayed frozen to the spot. She lowered her eyes on a level with his chest and folded her arms across her body in an instinctive gesture of defence, her anger evaporating as fear paralysed her.
'Forget it, Luc,' Parisa warned him, taking a cautious step back. 'You said bedrooms, plural... You said no strings...' she insisted, tearing her eyes away from the golden skin and glistening black body hair. Memories rose up to taunt her, of herself once welcoming his magnificent body. She stifled a groan, reluctantly raising her eyes to his, but the predatory sensual glitter in his gaze made her flesh prickle in a totally unwanted response.
'A business deal, two weeks... for your mother...' She was babbling. 'You lied.'
'No, I didn't lie. There are two bedrooms, one I use as an office. I lease this suite on a permanent basis. As for the rest, you agreed to be my wife for a limited time, with everything that entails, Parisa,' he taunted, stopping only inches away from her.
She unfolded her arms to push him away, but she was caught off guard by the speed with which he moved, hauling her against the hard heat of his tall, powerful body. 'No, no...' she pleaded, shaking her head, her silver-blonde hair flowing around her shoulders, as she tried to twist away, but he held her firm, moulding her to his almost naked form.
'Don't be a fool, Parisa. Did you really expect me to part with a fortune for nothing? As it is, you are probably the most expensive lady I have ever possessed.' Her head jerked back as with one hand he twisted a swathe of hair around his wrist. 'And I intend to get my money's worth,' he declared with implacable resolution.
Possess her? Never! But as her mind screamed no she went rigid, shrinking from the terrible cynical determination in his black eyes. He towered over her, the domineering strength of the man implicit in every line of his huge frame.
'Luc...you can't,' she implored. 'Our deal didn't include ... sex.' She forced the word out through trembling lips. Maybe if she didn't struggle, if she reasoned with him, she thought, desperately aware of the leashed tension in his taut, muscul
ar body.
'Sex was never mentioned, my sweet Parisa. If you remember, you were too much of a lady to spell it out. Which suited me just fine.' He smiled derisively, his narrowed gaze blazing with triumph and a raw sensual message that petrified her.
What he said made a terrible kind of sense. He was right, and the knowledge destroyed what little confidence she had left. His dark head bent and he brought his mouth down savagely upon hers, forcing her lips to part to the thrusting, shockingly sensual invasion of his tongue.
Heat coursed through her in wave after wave, rocking her with the force of his angry passion. She whimpered low in her throat as he broke the kiss, freeing her swollen mouth while his hand slid lower down her back, urging her hips into intimate contact with the fierce potency of his arousal.
'Feel what you do to me, wife, and know that I am going to sate myself in your beautiful, heartless body,' he said with bitter ferocity. 'So I can walk away with no regret.'
She felt sick, her stomach churning with nausea. He hated her; she could see it in his eyes, feel it in the savage pull on her hair, but she couldn't understand why. She had sensed the underlying anger in him ever since he had turned up at her home, but had closed her mind to it. Her own bitterness had been more than enough for her to control. Now she wished she had queried his hidden rage.
'Let me free, Luc,' she gasped, as his lips touched her bare shoulder. She struck out wildly at his head, but he let go of her hair and captured her wrists, pinioning them behind her with one hand. 'You can't do this,' she cried, but there was no mercy in his eyes as they surveyed her pale, beautiful face, as he forced her back against his arm before, with his free hand, he deliberately slipped the straps of her nightgown down her arms, revealing her naked breasts to his hungry gaze.
'You can't force me to make lo...' But his head bent once more, his mouth moving with deliberate sensuality down the long line of her throat, and lower, to the soft curve of her full breasts. He nibbled and licked like some great jungle cat, the touch of his tongue on the sensitive flesh of her breast inducing a helpless languor in her heated body.
She moaned, 'No,' as his strong hand cupped her breast, his fingers teasing the tight nipple with devastating effect, while his lips covered the other one, drawing the hard nub into the hot dark warmth of his mouth.
Her breath stopped in her throat, as an ache of longing, so basic, so primitive swept through her. She closed her eyes as she helplessly acknowledged that she ached for the fulfillment only Luc could provide. She hated her own wanton response, and with her last tiny thread of control she cried, 'No, I don't want this.'
'Now who is the liar, Parisa? I don't need to force you. You're aching for it, my passionate little cat,' Luc muttered hoarsely, lifting his head to stare into her flushed face.
She opened her eyes, and met the glittering black cynical gaze of her tormentor. 'I should never have trusted you. I hate you,' she breathed hoarsely.
'You know what they say about love and hate, cara' His arm tightened around her back and effortlessly he swept her off her feet and crossed to the huge bed, his mouth slowly descending towards hers. 'Either emotion will do for me as long as this luscious body of yours responds so fiercely.' He murmured the words as his lips slid across her brow, and down her cheek. Parisa felt the mattress beneath her as his sensuous lips once more found hers.
'I don't...' she cried, but the cry was lost beneath the pressure of his mouth, as he kissed her with a hot, ruthless passion. His huge body pinned her to the bed; she could feel the heavy pounding of his heart against her breast. The brush of his hand through the tangled mass of her hair was oddly soothing as his lips gentled on hers. She tried to ease her hands between them to push him away, but when her fingers felt the rock-hard muscle of his chest all her resistance vanished. Instead, her hands moved of their own volition, her fingers tracing the hard male nipples, curling in the soft masculine body hair in secret delight.
'That's better, Parisa. Touch me. You want to, you know you do.' He breathed the husky encouragement against the tender skin of her throat, while his hand stroked expertly down over her breast, the indentation of her waist. Moving to one side, he slid the nightgown down her legs and flung it to the floor, at the same time removing his briefs.
She could have escaped; for a second she was free, but her mind had stopped functioning. Her blue eyes widened on his magnificent nude torso. She was drowning in a sea of sensations and memories that paled into insignificance when presented with the reality of the man. Her fingers, with a life of their own, reached out and stroked lower over his stomach, exploring the miracle of his essential maleness.
Luc groaned, and, grasping her straying hand, placed it on his shoulder before moving over her and cupping her face in the palms of his hands. For a moment, his black eyes burnt into hers.
'You want this, Parisa; tell me,' he demanded throatily.
She closed her eyes, trying to blot out the image of him, but his hard-muscled body moved seductively against her. Her hand on his shoulder slid down his chest, her other arm going around him, tracing the muscle and sinew of his broad back with achingly familiar delight.
'Yes,' she moaned, her surrender against his mouth as their lips met again.
Luc, like a man possessed, kissed her mouth, her eyes, the gentle curve of her chin. His teeth bit lightly over the madly beating pulse in her throat.
Desire, passion, need: they drank the explosive cocktail as they drank of each other. Luc's mouth and hands caressed and stroked, suckled and probed every intimate part of her, until Parisa was a mindless, molten entity, wanting nothing but to lose herself in the miracle of his possession. She traced her hands down his sides and around his firm buttocks, the potent force of his masculine arousal a hard, exciting pressure against her thigh.