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He relaxed into her then, setting her more securely against the smooth wall. It was Vectra who nearly whimpered then. She steadied the movement of her lips, but her fingers frantically roamed his back through the crisp dark material of his shirt. As nice as the fabric felt beneath her fingers, she wanted him out of it.
Such was not to be, it seemed. Her fingers skimmed the buttons of the shirt. She wanted it parted and revealing the chest that felt like a slab of chiseled magnificence under her palms. She had but a few seconds to absorb the pleasure of the unyielding surface before he imprisoned both her wrists in his hand.
Qasim had just as much difficulty policing himself from snagging loose the ties that secured the halter bodice of her dress. He didn’t dare lower his hands. One touch of her bare back would be his undoing. It was hard enough shackling her hands when all he wanted was to run his own across the flawless beauty of her caramel-toned skin.
He ended the kiss, but he couldn’t resist another taste, beckoned by the sight of the pink tip of her tongue just visible beneath her sensually bruised lips.
Vectra arched into him, circling her arms about his neck. The groan he uttered rumbled as though it were somehow amplified. He couldn’t avoid skimming her bare back then.
Previous innocent touches to her arms, the back of her neck or a kiss to the cheek had already hinted at her softness. Having the opportunity now to actually massage her back, uncovered for his touch, drove the fact home. She was like satin in his hands. He whimpered again—no shame, all need.
Let her go, Sim. She’s not for you.
The soft yet stinging reminder was enough to still the indulgent roaming of his hands even as his fingertips skimmed the lace scrap of the G-string panties she wore beneath the dress.
He broke the kiss suddenly and before he took her against the wall the way every last one of his hormones demanded him to. He dropped a brief kiss to her ear and let his mouth linger there.
“You haven’t done anything wrong—not one thing.” He gave her space, just a little. “Dance with me?” He silenced whatever precautions his voices of reason were giving him.
The music tempo had wound down to slow and sensual by the time Qasim and Vectra returned to the party room. The guest of honor and establishment’s owner, Robb DeWitt, had not yet made his entrance. Spotlights flashed around a majestic ice-blue armchair near the front of the room in anticipation of the man’s arrival.
Vectra was pleased by the distracting lights, which kept her and Qasim’s sudden return below the radar. They wouldn’t have garnered much attention anyway, she reasoned. They could usually be found together at some point during an event they both attended.
Qasim eased his hands about her waist, his thumbs drawing small circles where they touched her bare back.
Vectra exhaled on a long breath while linking an arm about Qasim’s neck. She kept the other loosely linked about his side.
“Who brought you here?” he asked when they’d been swaying to a slow, jazzy tune for the better part of three minutes.
Vectra had been enjoying the feel of whiskers along his jaw. They felt like mink next to her cheek. His question urged her, reluctantly, to raise her head.
“Oliver.” Her gaze narrowed, watching him nod and give in to a faint, satisfied smile. “You approve? Why?”
“I just do.”
“And that’s it? I’m just supposed to accept that?”
“It’s best if you did.”
“Are you married?”
His very attractive features softened in amused shock. “You know I’m not married, Vectra.” He laughed a bit.
“You’re right, I do. Then the only reason I could see you approving of me coming to a party with my brother is because you’re one of those guys who buys into that I-don’t-want-you-but-no-one-else-can-have-you thing. Is that it?”
His amusement vanished. “I’m one of those guys who have a possessive streak.”
Vectra blinked. “Possessive?” Her fingers dug into his shirt a little. “Over me? Why?”
Qasim kept one hand at Vectra’s waist while the other lifted to massage her neck. “What was that you said to me about playing dumb? That I was pitiful at it? So are you.”
Disbelief sparkled in her smoky gaze as she settled both hands to his chest and peered into his hooded stare. “We’ve been friends for so long—”
“And it’s been hell, Vec.”
His words stung, and she eased back as far as he’d let her. “I’m sorry.”
“Babe—” he rested his forehead against hers “—you have nothing to be sorry for. I meant what I said out there. You haven’t done anything wrong. This is my issue, and I won’t see you hurt by it.”
