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So he was in the weapons trade with Duran. I blinked, pretending I didn’t know what he was talking about, and nodded my head slowly.
“So how long are you here?” Khalil said, moving his chair closer. “And will you always be on Duran’s arm or could I have the pleasure of your company again before you go?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, giggling. “Duran can be awfully boring sometimes, so I don’t know when I’ll go out again. He practically keeps me locked up here.”
“Perhaps he just knows a good thing when he sees it.” Khalil’s eyes moved over me, this time taking their time. Then, to my surprise, he touched the inside of my wrist under the table, tracing my palm. “You are very beautiful, Iris.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a hint of discomfort.
I took a drink from my wineglass and somehow it was empty. I frowned, looking at the bottom. How had I finished it so soon?
“You may have mine,” Khalil said, passing it over. “The wine is wonderful, but I’m more of a hard liquor man.”
I accepted his glass and he watched me, eyes narrowed in concentration as I drank. When I turned to check where Duran was, I found him standing several yards away, talking on his phone. Roberto stood next to him, frowning, and staring down at the ground as he listened. I scowled, annoyed that Duran wasn’t even looking at me.
“Can I take you for a walk down to the river?” Khalil asked.
The table swam a little, but I was tipsy enough not to care. I got to my feet and he smiled broadly, taking my arm and leading me across the veranda to the side garden. The afternoon sun warmed my naked shoulders and back and the faint breeze fluttered my dress around my legs. I felt his gaze on me, tracing the curves of my body with his eyes as I followed him through the garden.
“I feel as though I’ve met you before,” Khalil said.
“I don’t know where we could have met.”
We paused just out of view of the compound, the river sprawling out below us like a glittering snake. Khalil turned and put his hand on my waist, his fingers gently moving over the fabric of my dress, gathering it in his fingers. He moved closer and I blinked hard, feeling drunker than I had just a moment ago, and put his other hand on the inside of my thigh. It felt good, better than it had any right to, but my mind went immediately to Duran. He would be furious if he found out Khalil touched me. Not just furious, I realized with a pang of guilt, he would be hurt.
I didn’t owe Duran my fidelity. He wasn’t my husband or my boyfriend, but as I stood there with Khalil’s fingers circling the sensitive skin of my inner thigh just below my panties, I remembered last night. The memory of the look in Duran’s eyes when he confessed he felt something for me was enough to make me take a step back.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I think I might be leading you on and I didn’t mean to. Not like this. I should go back.”
Chapter Nine
Khalil tilted his head, studying me, but before either of us could speak, I heard someone barking my name. I whirled and saw Duran a dozen yards away, over the crest of the hill. He had his hands clenched at his sides and his face was completely calm, but his dark eyes were raging. I knew then that he’d seen Khalil touch me and a thrill of fear went through my body. I’d meant to make him jealous, but not to inspire the murderous rage burning in Duran’s eyes.
“Goodbye,” I said, unsure of what else to say.
Then I turned and scrambled up the hill to where Duran stood. My heart was pounding as I drew near him. His gaze was pitch-black and turbulent, narrowed with something that could have been hunger or rage. His body was rigid, shoulders thrown back and stance wide. He took my hand without a word, his chest heaving, and pulled me across the veranda to the door.
As soon as we were alone, he turned and faced me. “What the fuck was that?” he snapped.
“What do you mean?” I said, a little too sweetly. Damn the wine, it was making me reckless and afraid all at once.
His jaw worked furiously, the muscle moving under the skin, and he glanced out onto the veranda where I knew the others were still socializing. Then he swore under his breath and took me by the upper arm, sweeping me up the stairs toward our room. Before I had time to gather myself and pull from his grasp, he was pushing me into the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind us.
He shoved me hard against the door, his hands digging into my hair, pulling my head back to look up at him. There was hard possessiveness in his gaze, boring into me, threatening to tear me apart. Then his mouth was on mine, kissing me, forcing my lips to part for his tongue.
My body was hot and cold all over, my thighs tingling and my knees weak. I clung to his forearms, weak beneath the hard strokes of his mouth. I should have been ashamed of flirting with Khalil, but instead I gloried in Duran’s reaction. This was the vengeance I deserved after being put into that dress and used like an expensive object for his friends to lust after. His reaction had me aching and wet and I didn’t regret a moment of it.
“Take your clothes off,” he breathed.
“Duran, I—”
He didn’t wait for me to protest. His hard hands whirled me to face the door and his fingers slid up under the straps of my dress, yanking them from my shoulders. His right hand traced up my spine and around the front of my throat, caressing the sensitive skin. A shiver went through my body and I clenched my thighs together. Something about being pinned by him with his hand on my throat turned me limp and made me wonder how it would feel to have him do this while he was inside me.
“You don’t flirt with other men,” he whispered in my ear. “Is that understood?”
He flipped me around and tore the dress from my body, letting it pool around my feet. I stood before him in a thin, lace thong and heels. He palmed my breasts, kneading them hard, and bent over them, his dark head moving as his tongue swirled over my nipples. I arched involuntarily, pleasure blossoming between my thighs, and dug my fingers into his upper back, eliciting a curse from him.
He lifted me in his arms and carried me to the bed, tossing me down on my back. I kicked off my shoes and he climbed atop me, his insistent mouth returning to my breasts. His tongue moved over my right nipple in long strokes, teasing it to hardness. My head was beginning to clear as the effects of the alcohol wore off and I was acutely aware of every sensation. The touch of his shirt against my stomach, the flick of his tongue, the gentle swirl of his fingers against my inner thigh.
