A Reputation For Revenge(47)

And leaning forward, she kissed his lips.

* * *

So much for his brilliant intelligence. Kasimir had thought he was so smart, finding a loophole around his promise. Passing her in their race down the dune, he’d felt triumphant, his body tight, knowing he all but had her in his arms.

Then there was a scream, and she’d flown past him. She was such an accomplished snowboarder that she’d had no problem handling the textural differences between snow and sand. And she’d seen the source of the scream, the injured boy, half a second faster than he had. It was enough to make any man feel slow. Stupid and slow.

Which was exactly how Kasimir had felt pacing the tent of the boy’s family as his uncle, a doctor trained in Marrakech, worked on the boy’s ugly compound fracture with his limited instruments at hand. Kasimir had looked down at the sobbing boy, wishing he could do more than order a helicopter on his satellite phone, wishing they didn’t have to wait so long, and most of all, dreading the long, jarring journey the boy would face traveling to the hospital in Marrakech.

After Ahmed was loaded on the helicopter with a stretcher, Kasimir had evaded the tearful thanks of Ahmed’s family. Shoulders tight, he returned to the tent where Josie waited—not for his seduction, but for her freedom.

The whole afternoon, from start to finish, had left the acrid sourness of failure in his mouth.

And then—Kasimir had tasted the sweetness of Josie’s lips against his.

She’d reached her hands around his shoulders, lifting up on her tiptoes, and he’d just stared down at her in shock, telling himself he was completely misreading the situation. Josie, the inexperienced virgin, wouldn’t make the first move.

Why would she kiss him? He was a man who stood for nothing and no one. She was an angel who knew how to fly.

I intended to lose the race. Because I wanted you to seduce me.

He heard a soft sigh from the back of her throat. Saw her close her eyes. And she pressed her soft, trembling lips to his.

He didn’t immediately respond. He was too amazed. But when she grew shy, and started to draw away, a growl came from the back of his throat. Closing his eyes, he roughly pulled her back against his body and returned her kiss with force, with all the passion and longing he’d tried so hard not to feel. He let himself feel it—all of it—and desire overwhelmed him as it never had before.

Her lips parted as he deepened the kiss. She returned his embrace awkwardly, hungrily. And it was the best kiss of his life.

Outside the tent, he heard the rising wind flapping and rattling against the heavy waxed canvas. But he was lost in her. Her lips were so soft, her body so womanly, her soul so pure. As he ran his hands down her back, over her loose cotton shirt, he felt the press of her breasts against his muscled chest. Her brown hair now tumbled down her back in waves, tangling in his fingers.

It could have been hours or even days that he kissed her, standing with her in his arms, holding her body tightly against his own. He flicked her mouth lightly with his tongue, guiding her lips, teaching her to kiss. His tongue brushed against hers, luring her to explore further. With a sigh of pleasure, she leaned towards him, her arms tightening around his shoulders.

Josie. So reckless. So beautiful. She had such strange power. She made him want things he shouldn’t want.... Made him feel things he didn’t know he could still feel....

Lifting her into his arms, never ending their kiss, he carried her to the four-poster bed he’d shared with her in painful chastity for two nights. As he laid her back against the mattress, he looked down at her beautiful face.

“Tell me you don’t want me,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me to leave you be.”

He held his breath, as if waiting for a verdict of his life or death. She shook her head slightly. His heart twisted.

Then her full, pink lips lifted into a tender smile. Her brown eyes shimmered, glowing with desire, and she reached up for him, pulling him down against her in clear answer.

He felt her body beneath him, and knew he’d never again suffer the agony of sleeping beside her without being able to touch her. Because nothing on earth would stop him from taking her now.

Cupping her face, he kissed her passionately, stretching her back against the bed. His hands moved up and down her body until he finally reached beneath her cotton shirt. He felt her trembling hands stroke his bare chest beneath his own ripped shirt, torn into bandages on the dune. Her satin-soft fingertips ran along his flat belly and bare chest, and he gasped at the amazing sensation. He kissed down her throat, and his fingers were suddenly clumsy as he tried to unbutton her shirt, finally popping off the buttons in his desperation to feel the warmth of her skin against his own.