worry. If Felicity says anything, I’ll tell her I kidnapped you and it wasn’t your fault,’ he reassured her.
‘But—’
‘Shh.’ He placed his forefinger against her lips, his touch gentle yet firm enough to tell her he meant it. No more protesting.
And then he held her gaze and traced the tip of his forefinger across her lower lip. The lightest, sheerest contact—and yet Lily couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. There was something compelling about him, something that drew her to him. From the look in his eyes, she had a feeling it was exactly the same for him.
Instant attraction.
Spark to a flame.
A single touch would be enough to ignite it.
She should leave now. If she acted on her heart instead of her head, it would be a disaster. She couldn’t afford the kind of gossip that would undoubtedly follow—gossip that would insidiously eat away at the foundations of the business she’d worked so hard to build, and bring it crashing down.
But, for the life of her, she couldn’t walk away.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked softly.
‘Lily.’
‘Karim,’ he introduced himself.
Exotic—and yet he had that very English accent. Intriguing. And she wanted to know more.
‘One question,’ he said softly. ‘Are you married, involved with anyone?’
She knew instinctively that if she said yes, he’d let her go. Then she could escape back to the kitchen. She actually considered lying to him; although dishonesty was something she usually despised, in this case she knew a white lie would be the most sensible course of action.
But her body wasn’t listening to her head. She gave the tiniest, tiniest shake of her head, and saw relief bloom in his expression. Followed quickly by a hunger that made her body tighten in response.
He put his glass down on the table, then took hers from her hand and placed it next to his, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on hers. He captured her hand and raised it to his mouth; as he kissed each fingertip in turn she couldn’t help her lips parting and her head tipping back slightly in offering.
He saw the invitation and took it, dipping his head so that his mouth just brushed her own. The lightest, sweetest, erotic whisper of skin against skin.
It wasn’t enough.
She needed more.
Much more.
She slid her arms round his neck, drawing his head back down to hers. Even as she did it she knew it was crazy. They’d barely spoken a word to each other. Had only just exchanged first names. She didn’t do things like this.
Yet here she was, kissing a complete stranger. A man she knew nothing about, except for his first name and the fact that he had the sexiest mouth she’d ever seen.
And then she stopped thinking as he deepened the kiss and her fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer. His hair felt clean and springy under her fingers and she could smell the exotic scent of his aftershave, a sensual mixture of bergamot and citrus and amber. Simply gorgeous.
In turn, his arms were wrapped round her, one hand resting on the curve of her buttocks and the other flat against her back, drawing her closer against his body. So close that she could practically feel his heart beating, a deep and rapid throb that matched her own quickening pulse rate.
She’d heard people talking about seeing stars when they kissed and had always thought it an exaggeration. Now she knew exactly what they were talking about. This was like nothing else she’d ever experienced: as if fireworks were going off inside her head.
When he finally broke the kiss, she was shaking with need and desire. Every nerve ending in her body was sensitised—and the sensation ratcheted up another notch when he traced a path of kisses along her jawbone to her ear lobe, and then another along the sensitive cord at the site of her neck. She shivered and arched against him; in response, he pulled her closer, close enough for her to feel his erection pressing against her belly. His palm flattened against her hip and stroked upwards, moulding her curves; when he cupped one breast, his thumb rubbing the hard peak of her nipple through the material of her dress, her knees went weak.
All her senses were focused on him. The tang of his aftershave, the more personal scent of his skin, the taste of his mouth on hers, the warmth of his hands through her clothes—a thin barrier that was suddenly way, way too thick for her liking. Right at that moment she really needed to feel his skin against hers. Soft and warm and incredibly sexy.
Then he went absolutely still. Lily opened her eyes and pulled back slightly, about to ask what was wrong, when she heard it, too.
The sound of a door closing.
People talking.
The chink of glasses.
Oh, Lord.
They weren’t alone on the balcony any more. And she’d been so lost in the way he was kissing her…No doubt she looked as dishevelled as he did, with mussed hair and a mouth that was slightly reddened and swollen with kisses, making it obvious what they’d just been doing.
This was a disaster.
But hopefully it was fixable.
At least they weren’t immediately in full sight; somehow while he’d been kissing her he’d managed to manoeuvre them behind one of the large potted palms at the side of the balcony, screening them from view.
Frantically, she smoothed her dress, removed the band keeping her hair tied and yanked her hair back into tight order. It was just as well they’d been interrupted, or who knew what they might have done?
She’d just broken every single one of her personal rules. Even though she’d hand-picked her staff and she knew they were perfectly capable of holding the fort, she should still have been there to oversee things and sort out any last-minute hitches. She was supposed to be working. And instead she’d let a complete stranger whisk her off to the balcony to kiss her stupid. She’d followed her libido instead of her common sense.
Had she really learned nothing from the wreck of her marriage?
Karim, too, was restoring order to his clothes.
‘I really have to go,’ she whispered, keeping her voice low so she wouldn’t be overheard by the others on the balcony.
‘Not yet,’ he said, his voice equally soft. He traced the fullness of her lower lip with his thumb. ‘Or I think both of us will be embarrassed.’
‘But we didn’t…’ Lily’s voice faded as a picture slammed into her mind—a picture of what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. A picture of him drawing the hem of her dress up around her waist while she undid his bow tie and opened his shirt. A picture of him lifting her, balancing her against the wall, and then his body fitting against hers, easing in and then—
‘Don’t,’
