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Her pain eased.“Oh.I see.”
His gaze sharpened.“What are you thinking?Or should I ask what were you thinking a moment ago?”
“I thought… you were… ashamed for them to know about me.”
He inhaled deep and long.“Ashamed.Jesus, on top of everything else going on, do I have to take the time to show you again how much you mean to me?How incredibly fucking blessed I feel to have you in my life?”
Her heart did that crazy gooey shit again.“I… No,” she said hurriedly.“I’m good.”
He put his hands on his hips and glared at her.“You better be.A reminder fuck would take too long.”
She couldn’t stop her smirk.“You have somewhere else to be?”
“No, but I don’t want to be accused of distracting you.I sent you the final list by the way,” he threw at her, then he resumed pacing.
She wanted to tell him she’d finished her work for the evening, but she had a feeling sex would very quickly climb back up the menu if she confessed that.And more than anything, she wanted to establish a connection with him some other way.
“So what are you going to do about the photo?”
“My attorney is dealing with it.I can’t have direct contact with her family.”
Her eyebrows rose.“They filed a restraining order against you?”
He reefed his fingers through his hair.“No.We just agreed that it would be better that way.”
“God, just what the hell happened?”When he stopped pacing, she raised her hands.“I know you can’t talk about the actual event, but tell me something… anything!How did you and Farrah meet?”she asked in a rush before he could tell her something inane that told her nothing.
He stared off into the distance and swallowed.
A terror-filled breath caught in her throat as she walked slowly toward him.“Would you like a drink?”
Turbulent grey eyes refocused and stared down at her for an age.Finally, he nodded.She went into the kitchen, got a couple of glasses and a corkscrew, and grabbed a bottle of red from her alcove.He was seated when she returned, albeit leaning forward with elbows on knees and thrumming with tension.
He took the bottle from her and patted the seat next to him.When she sat, he worked the foil loose and held out his hand for the corkscrew.He poured and handed her a glass before pouring his own.
Sitting back, he pulled her in to his side, his fingers sliding through her hair to gently caress her scalp.For several minutes he stayed like that.And although outwardly he may have looked calm and assured, she heard the erratic beating of his heart.
Remembering Marrakech when she’d been sick with jealousy that he was dreaming of another woman, she fought to hide the acid bite of envy that a woman could create such a powerful reaction within him.
The feeling grew and grew until she wanted to block her ears, when he finally started to speak.
“We met in grad school.You know she’s Moroccan.She grew up there.Her parents were very wealthy, very influential.She was… very beautiful.”
She winced, and his fingers convulsed in her hair.He pulled her head back and stared down at her in a narrow-eyed way that questioned whether she was okay.
When she nodded quickly, he exhaled and continued.
“I said that because her parents were very strict, and she told me it was partly because of her looks.They were right, I guess.She turned heads wherever she went.”He stopped and drank.
“Grad school was the first time she’d known any real independence.She was completely innocent and beyond naïve.Hell, she could barely meet my eyes when we first met.”
Her heart squeezed tight.“Is that why you liked her, because she was submissive?”
His bitter laughter ricocheted around the room.“Trust me, she wasn’t submissive for very long.Once the culture shock wore off, she fully embraced her inner wild child, right along with the wild partying.Even changed her PhD to reflect her new outlook on life.”
She frowned.“What was she studying?”
His mouth twisted.“I don’t remember what her initial course was—a doctorate of some sort—but she changed it to sexual psychology.”