Captive but Forbidden (11 page)

“I went to the beach in an evening gown,” she pointed out.

“Not as far. Or as rich with vegetation.”

She wanted to argue, but she took a step back, defeated. She wanted out, but she wasn’t stupid. Who knew what manner of creatures waited on the path to the cottages? Bugs? Stinging bugs? Cobras?

Veronica shivered.

Raj came inside and closed the door. Locked it.

Her heart thundered in her ears. He was so close. Once more, so close. He smelled delicious, like the sea and wind and India.

“You’re upset,” he said softly.

“I’m not.”

He lifted a finger, skimmed her cheek, tipped up her chin so he could look down into her eyes. The light in the entry came from the living area, warm and golden and spilling through the prism of glass that divided one area from another. Her breath stopped in her chest. Time seemed to stretch out between them, so fine and thin, like the thread spun out by the mythical Fates.

But would one of them cut it, or would it continue to spin?

“You make me want things I shouldn’t,” he said, his voice so husky and deep.

Her heart pounded in her temples, her throat, between her legs. “Who says you shouldn’t? You? Are you not in control of your own destiny?”

His laugh was part groan. “You make it sound so simple, like one simply reaches a decision and starts down a new path.”

“Don’t they?”

“You know it’s not true. You know that life throws things at you, and you do the best you can to deal with them. If you’re lucky, you figure out what works for you, and you stick with it.”

It was her turn to laugh. “And how is that working for you, Raj? Because I have no idea what I’m doing from one day to the next sometimes. Maybe I should try your method.”

His expression was troubled in the dim light. “You confuse things, Veronica.”

A pinprick of pain pierced her, the hurt rippling outward as if someone had thrown a rock into a pond. “Don’t patronize me. I’m not stupid, and I’m not confused.”

“You confuse things for
me,”
he said. “You make me question myself.”

“Everyone should question his paradigm from time to time.”

“Are you questioning yours?” he asked, taking a step closer to her. “Am I still the wrong man?”

His mouth was so close now, and her body was sizzling with heat and memory and need.

“You’re completely wrong,” she said. “I don’t want you at all.”

His smile was self-assured. Feral and sexy. “You’re lying, Veronica.”

He tilted his head, studying her. She endured his scrutiny, her heart thundering, her skin begging for his touch.

Oh, God, she no longer cared. She just wanted him to touch her, to give her the bliss he’d given her two nights ago. She wanted to feel loved again, even if it wasn’t quite true.

She thought she would go mad waiting.

“What do you plan to do about it?” she said, a heaviness settling in her abdomen, between her legs.

He smiled again, only this time it was filled with regret. “Nothing. The desire will have to be enough for both of us.”

Furious tears stung the backs of her eyes. “Bravo, Raj. Once more, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself on the altar of altruism for my sake. Whatever would I do without you to make decisions for me?”

His growl was not what she expected, but it sent a thrill through her belly nevertheless. “You can’t have it both ways,” he snapped. “You can’t tell me I’m wrong for you and then look at me like I’m the only man who has what you need. So tell me what you want from me or get back to bed.”

T
ELL
me what you want.

Such a simple statement, and so complicated all at once. So many things she wanted, and only one thing she would get from him. Only one thing he was willing to give.

Or perhaps he wasn’t.

Perhaps he was simply trying to humiliate her. Perhaps the best thing she could do—for herself, for both of them—was to turn and go back to her bedroom.

Heart in her throat, she turned away and took two steps. And then, because she was frustrated and angry and hurt and confused, she turned back. Stood there staring at him while he stared back, no one saying anything, no one moving.

So many emotions and thoughts crashing through her—and one very big one that said,
Why are you doing this? Life is too short to play games. You know what life can do to you when you don’t take it seriously.

As soon as she thought the words, she understood something very fundamental about Raj. It was as if someone had pulled back a curtain and shown her an illuminated tablet upon which this particular truth was carved: he was accustomed to denying himself.

The little boy who’d never written that note to the
Barbie-pink girl, who’d never gotten to go to her party or ask her to be his girlfriend, was standing here now, unwilling to take a chance. Because tomorrow might change everything. Because tomorrow he might move away again, and the party would happen without him. The girl would find another boyfriend. Nothing stayed the same in Raj’s world, and he’d learned it was better not to get attached to anything just in case.

Her blood sang as if she’d just been shown a priceless secret. She understood what motivated him. She understood and she knew what she had to do.

Veronica untied the belt at her waist and let the robe slide down her shoulders to pool at her feet. She was only wearing the black lace thong she’d worn beneath the strapless gown, and nothing else. Her breasts pebbled as she stood there for what seemed an eternity, waiting for Raj to react.

“Veronica,” he said. Choked, really.

“I know what
I
want,” she said. “But I don’t think you do. You think you have to deny yourself. But you don’t, Raj. It’s okay to want things. It’s okay to want
me.
I don’t expect anything out of you.”

“You do,” he said, his voice still strained. “You want the kind of life I can’t give you.”

She swallowed. “I don’t think either one of us is ready for more at this point in our lives.”

Though part of her ached for more, she didn’t deserve it. She had to be real with herself. Because he would despise her if he knew what sort of person she really was. And she couldn’t bear it if he did.

She closed the distance between them. They didn’t touch. The heat emanating from his body touched her instead—enclosed her, enveloped her. He was on fire.
It made her wonder how much she would sizzle when he actually made contact.

Then she slid her palms up his arms while his eyes glowed hot, over his biceps and hard pectoral muscles. His nipples were small, tight, and she tweaked them with her thumbs while he growled deep in his chest.

And then she told him what she wanted right now. The words she used were graphically, shockingly raw.

She surprised herself. Surprised him if the way his eyes widened were any indication.

But then he was dropping to his knees in front of her, pressing his face to her bare belly, kissing a trail down her abdomen. Hooking his fingers into the material of her thong, he slipped it down her legs until she could step out of it.

Then he lifted one of her legs and put it over his shoulder while she gasped.

“Raj, not here!”

“Yes, here.”

She gripped his shoulders to keep herself upright, but his mouth on her body, on her most sensitive spot, soon had her panting and gasping and thrusting her hips to increase the pressure. When she came a split second later, her knees buckled. Only his strong grip kept her standing.

And then he was on his feet, backing her against the wall. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him, their tongues tangling urgently as he shifted her against him until her legs were wrapped around his waist and his hard shaft was at her entrance.

Veronica cried out as he plunged into her body. But it wasn’t pain that caused her to do so. Somehow he knew, because he didn’t hesitate to thrust again and
again, harder, until she dragged her mouth from his and tilted her head back to moan her pleasure.

Oh, this was exactly what she wanted—what she needed. Raj, here like this. Raj, inside her, part of her.
Raj, Raj, Raj …

“God, Veronica,” he said, and she knew she’d been speaking aloud. She’d been telling him what she wanted, saying his name …

His mouth found her throat, his lips and tongue and teeth sending a shiver of delight racing down her spine, over her nerve endings, into her molten core. She was close, so close.

Raj made a sound of frustration. “Need more,” he said, the words hot against her skin. “Need more of you.”

And then he strode across the room, their bodies still joined, taking her somewhere, though she didn’t know where until they were falling together and her back hit something soft.

He rose above her, his dark face so handsome and sexy as he worked to hold on to his control. She could see the restraint in his eyes, could see how he held a part of himself back, how he was still worried about hurting her in spite of his need.

“Give me all of you,” she said. “I want all of you, Raj.”

“Veronica—”Her name was a groan—so raw, so torn.

“I don’t want you to hold back. If this is all we have, I don’t want to miss anything.”

They both knew it wasn’t about the physical. That part was perfect. Amazing, hot and wonderful. His gaze was wild, his body throbbing inside hers, and yet she
still wondered if she’d carried it too far, if he would withdraw and leave her lying here alone.

He was capable of it, she was certain, no matter the cost to his pleasure.

But then he groaned, his head dropping until his forehead touched hers, and she knew he’d surrendered. He kissed her, their mouths fusing so sweetly, so perfectly. He was still so hard inside her, but he didn’t move. He simply kissed her, skimming the fingers of one hand over her face, as if he were learning her shape and texture by touch alone.

A tear leaked from her eye, slid down her temple. He kissed it away, kissed the tender skin of her cheek, the bones of her face. Love swelled inside her heart until she thought it would burst. She wanted to let it out, wanted to tell him how she felt, and yet it terrified her.

She was in love with him, and she couldn’t tell him. So bittersweet, so shattering.

Veronica thrust her hands into his hair, curled them into his skin, slid them over his body. She wanted to know every part of him, the golden skin and eyes, the hard, sensual lips, the straight, regal nose. The hardness buried deep inside her.

“Oh, Raj,” she gasped as he flexed his hips and sensation bolted through her, from her fingertips to her scalp, her toes to her nipples. Every part of her was alive and on fire for him.

“I love the way you say my name when I’m inside you,” he growled. “So sexy, so needy.”

“I am needy,” she said, arching her back, trying to get him to move again. “I want more.”

He withdrew from her, surged forward again. “More of this?”

“God, yes.”

This time he obliged her, thrusting into her again and again, her body soaring as he drove her toward completion. There was nothing left between them. No barriers, no secrets, no lies—nothing but raw, hungry emotion. Their bodies rose and fell together, giving and taking, taking and giving.

She wanted to feel like this forever, and yet it had to end. Finally, she could hold back no longer. The pounding pressure started a ripple of sensation deep inside that engulfed her senses. The only word she could say, the only one that would form on her tongue, was his name.

And then he was tumbling over the edge right behind her, grasping her buttocks and lifting her to him as he came. Her name on his lips sounded so raw it gave her a thrill. His breath in her ear was rapid, as if he’d been running.

Veronica closed her eyes, her heart racing in time with his, blood pounding and body singing. She was happy. Right this moment, she was so incredibly happy. She felt as if she was flying and she didn’t want to look down, didn’t want to see the scorpion waiting to strike. She didn’t want this to end.

But it would. She knew it would.

“You’ve killed me,” he said. “Sacrificed me for your selfish pleasure. I’m done in.”

Veronica laughed, ran her fingers up the damp skin of his back. “Oh, yes, my evil plan is complete. I intend to drain you, Rajesh Vala. Leave you an empty husk, unable to ever get it up again for any other woman.”

She said it jokingly, and yet the thought of Raj with another woman pierced her to the bone.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly, skimming his lips
along her jaw, the shell of her ear. “Don’t put something between us that doesn’t exist.”

She shuddered beneath him, her heart pinching tight in her chest. “I’m simply being realistic,” she said. Because there would be other women in his life, once she was gone. He was too sensual, too male. He couldn’t be tamed—but he could be caught, for a short time anyway.

He tweaked her nipple, made a sound of approval when she gasped. “This is what’s real, Veronica.”

A short while later, he carried her to his bed and proved that he was perfectly capable of sacrificing himself for her pleasure yet again.

Raj came awake as the sea breeze blew into the windows and rustled the filmy netting. The covers had been flung off long ago. Beside him, Veronica was curled into a ball with her back to him. He traced a fingertip along her shoulder, her hip. Already, his body was stirring, wanting her again.

She was a fire in his blood, this woman. She had been since the first moment he’d seen her. He spared half a thought for Brady, but she’d never been Brady’s to begin with. Veronica had chosen
him,
and he would not feel guilty for it.

He kissed her shoulder, cupped a breast in his palm. She came awake with a smile, turning sleepily in his arms.

She was as hot for him as he was for her. Thank God. Pushing him onto his back, she straddled him and sank down onto him with a groan. He closed his eyes, his body pulsing inside hers. He could live this way. He could wake every morning like this, Veronica undulating her hips and making him crazy with need.

He gripped her thighs, slowing her movements before it was over too fast. When he looked up at her, her pale hair was swinging around her breasts as if she were Lady Godiva riding through the town square. Her nipples were hard little points that he wanted to suck.

Except that he couldn’t move. If he moved, it would be over too quickly.

She arched her back, lifted her arms and pulled her hair off her body. “Oh, yes,” she said, her voice little more than a throaty whisper. “Like that. Just there.”

He suddenly wanted to shatter her control, wanted to prove he could, wanted her wild and wriggling beneath him. He wanted to know that she was his, that he was the one who made her quiver and sigh and cry out with pleasure.

With a quick movement, he flipped her over, driving deeper into her body. Her legs wrapped around his hips, her teeth biting into her lush lower lip as she arched toward him.

He lost whatever thread of control he’d been holding on to, driving into her until she shattered beneath him with a sharp, hard cry. But he didn’t stop there. He couldn’t. He kept stroking into her until she caught on fire again, until his body was burning up with hers, until they both plunged over the edge and crashed onto the rocks below.

Mine,
he thought.
Mine
.

It was sometime later when he woke a second time. Veronica was asleep again, her lush body pale in the morning light. Her skin was red in places, and he realized he needed to shave. He climbed from the bed with a yawn and a languid stretch before making his way to the bathroom and turning on the shower.

If he had any strength at all, he’d make love to
Veronica in the shower. He imagined holding her against the slippery wall, imagined driving up into her body, and was half tempted to go wake her when he began to harden.

Instead, he got dressed and headed for the dining room. Breakfast would be waiting, as well as his morning reports. He took a seat at the table and tore into the fragrant
dosa.

It had taken him several visits to convince the housekeeper that he didn’t want a traditional English breakfast every morning when he was in residence. Now that he’d been coming to Goa for the past few years, they’d slipped into enough of a routine that he could expect masala
dosa
in the mornings unless he specifically asked for full English.

He flipped through the reports, finding nothing he didn’t already know in any of them. The doors to the terrace were open, and air fragrant with the spices being used in the kitchen blew gently through the house.

“Good morning.”

Raj looked up from the report he’d been reading. Veronica waltzed into the room, her hair a gorgeous mess pinned on top of her head, her lips full and swollen from his kisses, her skin glowing. She’d slipped into one of his shirts, which she’d rolled at the cuffs, the tails hitting her about midthigh.

He’d always thought it a not-so-subtle attempt at claiming ownership when a woman put on one of his shirts the morning after sex. As if she were saying he belonged to her now that they’d spent the night in bed.

But with Veronica, all he could think was that she belonged to him and that his shirt was a lucky bastard.

“Don’t gape, Raj,” she said, grabbing a piece of
dosa
and a cup of chai that seemed to magically appear when
she did, before she turned and went to stand in the open door. Beyond, the sea sparkled in the sun.

Raj went to stand behind her, breathing in the scent of her hair. Aching to touch her again, right now. Right here.

“It’s so lovely. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relaxed.” She turned and winked up at him. “But I don’t think the relaxed part has anything to do with the view.”