Turkish Delights Series (7 page)

“It’s okay, really. I, ah, I’ll be back.” She shouldered past the girl who seemed frozen in place at the sight of her mistress’s obvious insanity. Switching to Turkish, she made her reassurances and quickly shut the door on the hair carnage. Vivian knew every squeaky stair to avoid on the back steps and made her silent way down to the kitchen and out, holding a finger to her lips after snagging a couple of bread slices from the fresh basket. The two women still cleaning up after her father’s family’s dinner rolled their eyes. She smiled, grabbed a cap one of the drivers had left in the darkened alcove and eased out the door to the back courtyard of the massive diplomatic residence.

The smoky, oppressive air of the ancient city filled her nose. It was relaxing in an odd way. Brought back memories of times following Levent through dirty streets and along narrow alleys all those years ago, giggling at the very concept of how bad she was being, out without parents or minders or anyone but Levent protecting her on the streets of a dangerous city.

Vivian jammed the cap down on her head, tucking her newly shorn hair up into it. She took a long, deep breath and let her inner compass guide her down the hill, dodging the random men on bicycles and the odd taxi that had any business in this diplomatic section of the city. Ducking inside doorways and running from shadow to shadow, as he’d taught so many years ago, she made her way through the busier avenues along the Bosporus.

She emerged along the outer edge of Topkapi Palace, the historic home to Ottoman Sultans for centuries. It was her absolute favorite place in the entire city. Years before, Levent had shown her a spot in the four foot thick wall surrounding the outer courtyard. It was still there. Turkey was chock full of amazing historical edifices and buildings, but still too poor to maintain them all properly, so it was no wonder this crack in the wall that was wide enough for her to wiggle through hadn’t been found and repaired. She stepped into the completely dark Grand Kiosk area of the large, beautiful prison for the Sultan’s slaves.

Much was made of the “exclusive harem,” but Vivian knew every single woman in it had been a slave, captured from yet another country conquered by the brutal Ottoman Empire. It was against the law for Muslim women to be imprisoned, so the rooms held slaves of all ethnic varieties from Eastern Europe through Africa. All dressed well, fed plenty, given lots to do within four walls, except the ability to leave, ever.

Vivian walked across the cold stones, found the covered bench where she and Levent had sat all those years ago, looking out of the Golden Horn of the Sea of Marmara, making up stories of brave warriors and pirates of all shapes and sizes who would come and attack the ancient fortress of Levent’s ancestors. He usually brought a small sack of food for them, and they’d munch apples or strawberries or strong cheeses and bread as they talked, laughed, and played hide and seek amongst the gazebos and fountains that were the last section of the palace added in the 1800s in a desperate attempt to European-ize the place.

A breeze stirred, bringing the strong scent of the sea with its combination of rotting fish, moldy wood and salt. It made her smile. It made her think of him. Levent. The man she wanted but couldn’t have. Because she was a woman and didn’t get to make her own choices. Trapped, like the women in this very building had been.

She sighed and braced her hands against the cold marble. Her eyes adjusted to the dark. The many boats provided a light show across the darkened sea. Night birds twittered in the trees that had sheltered this area for nearly a thousand years. Her chest unclenched for the first time in days. When the tears formed, Vivian let them spill down her cheeks. She cried for the many women who were brought here against their will, kept to be used as vessels for future Sultans at the whim of the current
Sultan Valide
—the Sultan’s mother—or left to rot, in their expensive silks and satins. And for herself, destined for a life as a diplomat’s wife. Mrs. Ron Harrison, bored, likely drunk, and ignoring whatever children they might spawn, perpetuating the mystery that was modern marriage.

“No!” She yelped into the dark and stood. “I won’t! I won’t!” She ran fast, up to the edge of what was essentially a cliff that opened over the teeming merchant’s area below her, at the edge of the sea. She clambered up onto the stone fence, stood, and let the night caress her skin like a lover. It was dangerous up there. Dizziness hovered on the edge of her consciousness at the height. The buzz of terror mixed with the forbidden had always tempted her, made her feel more alive.

She leaned over, keeping her feet planted, letting the wind hold her up. She closed her eyes, let the breeze lash the ends of her hair that had escaped the cap, dry the tears that still dotted her cheeks. At one point she stepped forward, her brain acknowledging it was a colossally bad idea to do so, wondering how many of the harem women had been exactly where she was right now. How easy. Just to let go.

“Vivian!”

Hands gripped her legs. Her eyes flew open and she gasped, stumbling forward, ending up in a crouch on top of the wide stone fence, sucking in deep breaths of polluted Istanbul air. Once she’d calmed and realized she was not going over the side to a certain death, she turned and came face to face with the one man she had hoped never to see again. Because to see him meant agony beyond anything she could define. She looked away, unwilling to accept he was here, in their space, the place he’d brought her to all those years ago.

“Dear God, please
guzelim
, come down from there.” His low, gravelly voice teased her ears. The accent a comforting lullaby to her rattled psyche. But she remained staring out onto the sea, bracketed by the thousands of humans still working their lives, unaware of the drama unfolding above them.

Determined to ignore the sheer chemistry that swirled between them, she swallowed hard, pushed herself up off the barrier, and stood a few feet from him. How did he know to come here anyway? The raw animal compulsion to go to him, to wrap herself around his tall frame, was primal and urgent. But she resisted it at the cost of physical pain. When she finally looked into his impossibly dark eyes, the agony there matched her mood perfectly.

***

It took Levent nearly five minutes to calm his pounding heart. The first glimpse of her, leaning out over the precipice had terrified him so much he’d been frozen in place after his eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the courtyard. When her foot shifted closer to the edge, he’d moved fast. Now he stood, fists clenched against the urge to hold her, to soothe whatever had rattled her so badly, made her escape her home and hide here, in their old forbidden playground.

The consulate’s driver had called him, after being alerted by the kitchen staff the young missus had snuck out again and had been gone over an hour. It was obvious the man didn’t approve of him. Word had gotten around the backstairs that the young woman of the house had left angry, and it was likely because of him. They all realized something about him already. That somehow he’d know immediately where she’d gone. The driver had huffed and puffed and made lot of noise about “bad influences” and “knowing one’s place” as they drove to the Tokapi area. But Levent leapt from the back when he spotted the crevice they’d discovered all those years ago and made his way through. It was a challenge to fit his man-sized body into the slender opening but once in he dashed across the close-clipped grass, praying she was here, hoping she hadn’t done anything truly stupid in her fury.

And here she was, mere inches from him, her chest heaving with some combination of fear and anger and, if he wasn’t mistaken, lust. Levent was no virgin. His height was an anomaly among Turkish men, but he’d inherited it and the dark, olive-skinned good looks of his father. It made finding women willing to mess around pretty easy. Too easy. Now that he was feeling better about his business, about his place in the world, he needed something more. He wanted the woman standing here with him. But it simply could never be. He took a deep breath and a chance that a simple touch would calm her and reached for her arm.

The spark that shot into his hand made him wince. He should take his hand off her, but didn’t. He watched, an objective observer, as he moved to the bare skin of her upper arm, down to her elbow, and took her shaking hand. As if he were watching from a distance, he saw himself pulling her close, taking a deep breath of her scent—a combination of citrusy perfume or shampoo and a spicy, seductive essence that he’d come to forever associate with Vivian. His brain tried to put on the brakes, but his body’s need to feel, to touch, to caress overruled all logic. It had been a long time coming. He couldn’t resist any longer.

Her lips were set in a hard line, but he slipped the hat off and smiled at the sight of her shorn-hair rebellion. It was what he loved most about her when they were younger—her constant need to be thumbing her nose at authority. The passing thought that it would make her a difficult woman to live with flitted across his brain. The hard look in her dark eyes didn’t help. But he sensed her need as if it were a real thing between them. His was just as strong. He cradled her face in his hands, brushed a thumb over her lips.

His voice sounded rough in his ears, raspy and full of emotion. “Dear God, Vivian. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or held. How is this possible? You were only a girl.” He sensed her relax, so he pulled her close molding her body into his. It felt more natural than anything, holding her, pressing his lips to hers. When she moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, going up on tiptoe to reach him, Levent’s knees became suddenly unreliable. But he held on, swept into her mouth with his tongue, and prayed to everything he held holy that he would never have to be without her again.

Her lush breasts pressed against his chest, her tongue met his, and she buried her hands in his hair, as the kiss picked up more energy, taking on a life beyond what Levent felt he could control.

Control. He reached deep for it, but came up empty-handed, as those very hands ran down Vivian’s back, cupped her bottom and held her tight to his yearning body before roaming back up to grasp the back of her neck. He broke the kiss, as he risked utter explosion otherwise, and ran his lips along her jawline.

“Please, Levent…I need you….” Her voice broke, and he caught a tear with his tongue.

“I know. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” His chest clenched at the lie. He was here. But once they walked outside the walls of this ancient building, he would resume the mantle of “servant’s son” and she of “diplomat’s daughter.” It would never work.

But for now? Levent groaned as she shifted, leaning back against the wall he’d found her standing on. His cock throbbed, pressing against his zipper with an urgency he’d never experienced. Once again, his hands took over. The heat from her nipples blazed against his thumb. The warm flesh in the vee of her shirt begged for his lips so he obliged, licking his way down her long neck, dipping into the indentation between her collarbones and still farther. The luscious curves of her body invited him, compelled him. He knew this was wrong. She deserved more than this grope session in the dark, but he’d be damned if he could stop now.

“Yes, please.” She begged, her whisper curling inside his lust-addled brain and forcing him further. She stepped back, locking eyes with him, and lifted the shirt over her head, dropping it onto the grass. Levent swallowed and watched as she unhooked her bra and let it join the jumble of fabric at her feet. The moonlight slanted over her body, casting a sheen of white along the small nubs in the middle of those amazing breasts. Levent heard his breathing, harsh and rapid. And hers, coming in gasps as his hand once again took over, cupping the swell of one beautiful globe of flesh, running knuckles over the other, tweaking one hard nipple, then another, making her groan and arch back against the stone wall.

He had to taste her. His brain tried to engage, to make him hold back. This was wrong on so many levels he couldn’t even begin to count them, but as his mouth sucked one small pink nub between his lips, his body was flooded with her. He sucked first one then the other beautiful nipple between his lips, relishing the moans she made and the way her body angled into his. Dear God he was about to come in his pants like a kid. He groaned and pulled her face to his, diving into her mouth once more as she slowly turned him around, leaning him against the wall. The night swirled around him, making him dizzy and his gut ache with unmet need.

Before he knew what was happening she’d unzipped his trousers and had him in her small velvety hand. “Oh Levent, please, I must have this.” She kissed him then, using her tongue to show him what she wanted from his body. His hips thrust forward into her grasp, as primal need rushed through him. He wanted this woman. Wanted inside her, all over her, wanted her in every way he could get her. He groaned as she ran her thumb across his head, using the collected moisture to lubricate her grip.

He clutched her face. “Open your eyes, small one.” His voice was low. “Look at me, now.” She did, and he was shocked to see the blatant lust in her gaze that he knew matched his own. “Are you, have you….” He winced. Did it matter if she had? By Allah he wanted to take her, now, on the grass, and was ready to rut and mount her, own her, like a bloody animal but he had to know.

“I am yours, Levent. All of me. Take it, take my virginity I want you to.” She leaned in and bit his lower lip, licked down his neck as he fisted his hands in her newly shorn hair. Her hand increased its rhythm.

Levent called on every single resource of self-control he could muster and put his hand over hers, making her stop before he exploded between them. He brought both her hands to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her, when he realized he simply could not do this to her. “My darling, beautiful girl. I cannot.”

She took her hands from his, anger clouding her eyes once again. His cock twitched in agony as he tucked it back inside his trousers. Her breasts, pink tipped and ready for his lips, nearly broke his resolve. But he summoned a reserve of strength he didn’t know he had to stop. Before he did something utterly and completely irrevocable to her. It was not the time, or the place. He was a better man than this, and he’d prove it to her.