Anything He Wants: Castaway #2 (Anything He Wants 7) (6 page)

And I couldn’t bear to let him go. Not yet. Pure selfishness on my part, but I knew that to give him up would break me, knew
now
what the revelation would do to Jeremiah. Our fate was sealed but for this one moment.

“
Please,
” he ground out, body quaking beneath my palm, and the last of my resistance fell away. Rising up on my tiptoes, I pulled his head down and brought his mouth to mine.

That small kiss, barely a brush of lips, shook him free of his paralysis. He cupped my face tenderly in his hands, the touch feather-light which only emphasized the shaky control he exerted. Deepening the kiss was therefore left to me, and I crushed myself to him, desperate for as much contact as two bodies could allow.

Outside our little tent, the wind roared and howled, drowning out the sounds we made. Jeremiah swept me off my feet, moving us across to the small mattress. He laid me carefully on the bed, kneeling above and wiping another tear from my eye before settling between my legs and taking my mouth in another kiss.

––––––––

I
n the darkness of our little world, there was only Jeremiah and myself. We were insatiable, neither of us able to take our hands off the other. What sleep we managed was only in between bouts of activity. Long after I’d grown sore and weary from our lovemaking, I still climbed on his hips when I felt he was hard again, riding him to another mutual orgasm.

My desperation for him was matched by his for me, and in those hours when we were together, I could pretend that this could be forever. That I would never have to give him up.

That I hadn’t made a mistake that would shatter us both.

The darkness hid us from view, but that didn’t stop my hands from tracing every outline of muscle, every curve of his beloved body. I memorized every inch of him, stowed the knowledge away in the back of my mind for the future. If tears wet my cheeks, he never saw them; I buried my own pain to give him everything he wanted, for this one night at least.

The sandstorm had died down by the last time I awoke to find him already inside me, staring down from above. Sated and deliciously sore, I still twined my arms around his neck and tilted my hips to meet his thrusts. Remnants of a dream where I had been one of the belly dancers still flitted through my head, and I rotated my hips, grinding against him to the beat of our hearts.

He exhaled raggedly before rolling us sideways so that he lay beneath me. I peered down at him through my hair, then coiled my naked body above him. Closing my eyes, I flipped my hair back and danced above him, a slow and sensual rhythm flowing through me. His fingers dug into my hips as I swayed above him. Gone was the fierce need for completion; I danced for him, twisting myself to the music in my head. His hands smoothed up my sides to cup my breasts, thumbs flicking the nipples.

I splayed my hands across his wide chest, leaning forward as I rolled my hips, bringing him in and out of my body. Only then did I finally open my eyes to see him staring up at me, an awed fascination in his gaze. “So beautiful,” he breathed, before capturing my face and bringing me back down for another kiss.

We stayed like that for a while, no goal except to pleasure and find pleasure in each other. Finally, at long last, I slept, unable to keep myself awake any longer.

When I awoke, I was alone inside the tent. Sunlight poked through the cracks in the tent, enough light for me to see my clothing strewn across the room. There was no sign of Jeremiah, but I could still smell him on me, feel his lingering presence on my skin. The ache between my legs was no lie, but I ignored it as best I could, dressing quickly before pulling back the flap on the door.

Light streamed in, and I squinted down the makeshift hallway into the bright area that was the camp’s center. My eyes hadn’t yet adjusted but I could make out figures milling about. It was still too bright for me to watch for more than a couple seconds.

“Don’t worry, nobody saw him leave your tent.”

I jumped, startled, and looked the other direction to see Lucas sitting on the ground next to my room. He was staring at his hands, idly wiping sand from between his fingers. All I could do was stare, frozen in place, wondering how long he’d been sitting there. The silence stretched too long, and finally I had to say something. “Obviously, you saw him.”

“Yes, but apparently I’m nobody.” He stood to his feet, continuing to stare at the other wall before turning to look at me. The smiling mask was gone; he wore a stoic expression that would have done Jeremiah proud. “So, you’ve made your choice.”

There had never been a choice.
But looking at the scarred man, I couldn’t say that out loud. “Lucas,” I started, but nothing else would come out.

He waited several seconds for me to continue, but when I didn’t continue he sighed. “Did you tell him?” he asked in a low voice.

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and gave a jerky shake of the head. “You’re not going to tell,” I started, unable to complete my question.

Annoyance played out across Lucas’ face. “It isn’t my secret to tell,” he said firmly. For a moment he looked at a loss for words, then those blue-green eyes met mine. “Did I ever have a chance with you?”

I closed my eyes briefly, unsure how to respond. As much as I wanted to forget, or rather go back and change, my choice to turn to him for comfort, it had happened. Lucas had, whether I wanted to admit it or not, given me the comfort and safety I’d needed. He deserved an answer, but I couldn’t begin to process the question, not now. Not here.

His eyes trailed over my shoulder, then in the blink of an eye the smiling mask was back. “So no, sandstorms aren’t normal for this time of the year, but isn’t it just a great coincidence that one happens just as... Well, speak of the devil.”

I blinked in confusion, then turned my head to see Jeremiah and Rashid duck into the small hall. Jeremiah gave his brother a frosty look then turned to me. His face softened but he didn’t try to touch me, just stood close enough that his arm brushed my shoulder.

“Rashid, my old friend.” Lucas’ words seemed deliberate, the smile on his face forced. “I came for answers to questions, not a tour of this lovely desert. I thought you would have something for us by now.”

“Alas my old friend, it is you who are mistaken.” Rashid pulled an envelope out from under his arm and handed it over to Lucas, who took it gingerly. “Your task was not an easy one, nor was it cheap.”

Lucas eyed the other man thoughtfully as he opened the yellow envelope and pulled out the contents. Frowning at the paper in his hands for a moment, he passed it over to Jeremiah. “Do you know him?”

I peered over Jeremiah’s arm as the billionaire studied the photo. The picture was grainy, like it had been taken from far away and blown up. The single man pictured was wearing sunglasses, and could have been any other dark-haired, sunglass-wearing men in the world. Jeremiah gave a growling sigh. “This was the best you could do?”

“Hardly.” Rashid favored the man beside me with a small smile. “I also got a name.
Alexander Rush
.”

Jeremiah shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Well, it should. Apparently, he’s your brother.”

I was going to end this part here. Then I thought...

Nah. ;-)

––––––––

N
either Jeremiah or Lucas said anything for several long seconds, and then I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“
Another
one?”

Both men turned to look at me, and I squared my shoulders, staring back. Two Hamilton men in this world were enough for my taste.

Jeremiah looked between Rashid and the photograph for a moment, then shared a glance with Lucas. “There have been several people over the years who claimed Rufus was their father,” he said carefully, handing the photo back to Lucas. “How do we know he’s who he says, and how do we know you’re correct?”

Rashid shrugged. “Whether he is or is not related is of no concern to me. He believes he is, and that is enough.”

“How did you find out about this?” Jeremiah persisted.

“Don’t ask him that,” Lucas interrupted before Rashid could answer. The arms dealer was peering intently at the photograph, appearing to ignore everyone else. “He gets all cryptic and shit, saying
he has his ways
or something.”

Rashid flicked an annoyed glance at Lucas. “My cryptic bullshit may have uncovered the man out to murder you,” he snapped.

Lucas grinned widely. “Hey, I didn’t say you don’t produce good results.”

The exchanges made me wonder just how “friendly” the two men were. I remembered that, when we’d exited the helicopter at the hotel, neither man had shaken hands. Rashid might have owed Lucas a favor, but despite the assertions of friendship, neither man seemed to like the other much.

“I do not like to be mocked.” Only slightly mollified, Rashid turned back to Jeremiah. “I have an extensive network of informants, but I must tell you this information was difficult to attain. Whoever Mr. Rush may be, he is exceedingly difficult to track or learn about.”

“It’s a start, and more information than we had previously. I’ll get my people working on it as soon as we get back to the hotel.”

“You’re in contact with them?” I asked, surprised.

Jeremiah nodded, and pulled something from his pocket. “I picked it up from a retailer in the hotel the morning we left. Haven’t been able to call out yet as there isn’t much reception in the middle of the desert.”

I stared at the small phone in his hand, a sick churning starting in my gut. Something told me that my time in this life was coming to a close, and there was nothing I could do about it. The best thing would be to reveal everything and get it over with but... I looked up in Jeremiah’s beautiful face and felt the cracks in my heart grow wider.

“Lucy?”

I turned at my name to see Amyrah walking up behind her brother. She glanced around the throng of men, then back at me. “I was wondering if you’d like to ride back with me?”

Her offer was a godsend that I didn’t deserve. Swallowing back my rising anxiety, I gave her a genuine smile. “I’d love to, thanks.” Without looking at any of the men, I slid past them and followed the Arab girl out into the sun.

“What was that about?” she asked once we were out of earshot.

I shrugged. “Information exchange, testosterone fest, whatever you’d like to call it.”

“Ah.” She peered at me as we moved toward her vehicle. “Men being men, then?”

I laughed, cut short by a shaky breath. “I’m ready to go home.”

Amyrah nodded. “We’ll be back at the hotel in a couple hours.”

The hotel wasn’t the home I’d meant. I wanted, more than anything, to go back to who I was before, back to the life I’d lived before I even heard of Jeremiah Hamilton. My existence may not have been easy then, but the simplicity and straightforwardness of my situation had been easier to bear.

Now, I felt as trapped as I had when Jeremiah had offered me that contract.

“Is everything okay?”

Shaking my head, I gave Amyrah a small smile. “I’m just tired.” I followed her into the vehicle, wondering what adventures lay ahead of me now.

And finding that I couldn’t bring myself to care.

––––––––

“I
have something to show you.”

I sat on the bed while the other girl busied herself in the large bathroom. Amyrah’s suite was almost as large as mine and, as far as I could tell, seemed to be more like an apartment than a hotel room. Pictures of her brother and what I guessed were family lined the walls, and the closet that I had briefly seen was full of clothes. In a way it made sense; her brother owned a share of this hotel, perhaps they also lived here full time.

“You ready?”

I nodded, then realizing she couldn’t see me called out, “Ready.”

Still there was a pause, then finally the door opened and Amyrah stepped out. “What do you think?”

My mouth dropped open, and a genuine smile stretched across my lips. “You bought it!” I exclaimed, grinning up at the shy girl. The red dress looked as good now as it had in the store, and I could tell my pleasure made the other girl happy.

Amyrah blushed and bit her lip, but sashayed over to a full-length mirror in one corner of the room. She turned this way and that, admiring herself. “I’ve never owned anything like this,” she said. “I don’t know if I’d have the courage to wear it out of this room.”

“Sure you can!”

The other girl rolled her eyes. “My brother will think I am crazy,” she murmured, smiling at her reflection in the mirror.

“Screw your brother.” The words were out of my mouth before I even considered how inappropriate they were. It was one thing to make fun of your own family, another thing for someone else to say such things.

But my comment just elicited a startled laugh from the other girl. “Screw my brother,” she repeated, then giggled. “He would not like it if I told him that.” She studied her reflection for a moment, then lifted her arms to shoulder level and began moving her body like the dancers from the previous night.

I clapped my hands as she twisted her hips, moving in a small circle and ending with one last hip bump. “I’ll bet he wouldn’t like that either.”

Amyrah looked pleased with herself. “He is my brother,” she said, as if that answered everything. Perhaps it did. “I know he will love me, even if I choose to become a dancer.”

The idea of the conservative girl before me running off with the Bedouin camp to be a dancer should have been funny, but instead of laughter, I felt tears well up in my eyes. My breaths grew labored as I struggled against the sudden and inexplicable need to break down. No matter what I did however, I couldn’t stop the shivering that began in my belly and spread throughout my body.

Amyrah caught my eye in the mirror and spun around. “Are you all right?” she exclaimed, kneeling down beside me on the bed.

I nodded my head repeatedly, but couldn’t say anything. Finally, I shook my head. “No,” I croaked.

“Lucy, what happened?”

The concern in her voice bolstered me enough to get myself back together, at least somewhat. “I made a mistake. A
huge
mistake, and I’m...”
Afraid.
God, I was so afraid. Not about what would happen to me, but what would happen to Jeremiah when he found out what I had done. I knew he loved me, knew it with every fiber of my being.

And I knew my betrayal had destroyed that forever.

Amyrah grabbed my hand, pulling me forward, and I collapsed sobbing onto her shoulder. Breathing was difficult but I didn’t care. Anguish about what I knew I had to do coursed through me, spilling out in wrenching gasps and muffled cries. Soft arms wrapped around me, holding me tight like I hadn’t been held since before my parents died. Guilt and agony poured out of me, and I clung to the woman before me.

Eventually, I realized I was blubbering all over a beautiful red gown, being held by a girl who had known me barely a couple days. I leaned back, scooting over on the bed, but Amyrah kept a tight grip on my hand. “What happened?” she asked again, enunciating every word.

“Have you ever made a mistake so big, it feels like you’ll never get past it?”

Something about her concerned look gave me my answer, that she was free of that burden. She still squeezed my hand, moving around so that she was in front of me. “Would you like me to call your men?” she asked, her tone serious.

I barked a laugh at her phrasing. “No,” I said, the sudden humor too much right then. “No, I’m fine. This isn’t because of them.” A bold-faced lie, but it seemed to do the trick.

“You didn’t kill somebody, did you?”

I turned startled eyes to Amyrah. “No,” I said in a rush, and felt her relax.

“Then whatever is wrong can be fixed, right?”

But I was wrong, I realized. I might as well have killed love, at least when it came to Jeremiah Hamilton. Everything I knew about his history, the way he had looked at me the last few days, told me my news could shatter that inside him forever.

Closing my eyes, I covered my mouth and focused on breathing normally. It took several deep breaths to calm my quaking lungs.
Such a drama queen you are, Lucy Delacourt,
I admonished myself, mortification settling over me like a blanket. I certainly had a high opinion of myself, thinking I had that much control over another man’s emotional well-being. Smoothing the hair from my face, I wiped my eyes hastily with the back of my hand and stood. “I’m sorry,” I said, balancing precariously. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Lucy,” Amyrah called as I turned to go. Biting my lip, I turned to look at the other girl. Concern and anxiety was written all over her face, and her hands were clenched tightly in front of her body. “If you need any help,” she said, “please let me know.”

I gave a jerky nod, dashing away new tears that leaked from my eyes with one hand. “You do look gorgeous though,” I murmured, attempting a smile. Apparently I didn’t do a good job with the expression because the worry in her face deepened, but I couldn’t stay there any more. “I’ll call you soon,” I mumbled, then turned and left the room, heading straight for the front door.

––––––––

I
stood outside Jeremiah’s front door for several minutes before I finally got the nerve to give it a light rap. Really, it was barely more than a whisper, and I forced myself to knock harder a minute later. I didn’t want to be there and had no idea what I would say when the door opened, but was never given the chance to find out. The door remained closed, even after a third attempt, and the pressure around my heart decreased slightly as I turned toward my own room.

Light streamed through the open windows, as bright as the desert sands we’d gone through the previous afternoon. Somewhere in the room came the faint hum of a fan, and the gossamer curtains across the window swayed in the small breeze produced. I leaned back against my door for a moment, allowing the nervous shaking in my legs to ease a bit, before moving further into the room.

Reaching up, I pulled out the clip from my hair and let it fall in a tangle to my shoulders. A shower and nap sounded divine; my nerves could use the relief. I had already started unbuttoning my shirt, moving through the living room to the bathroom at the back of the suite, when I saw something nearby me move.

I gave a startled squeaked, stumbling back against a nearby chair as Jeremiah rose to his feet from the couch beside me. He’d been sitting there the entire time, and I’d been so preoccupied that I hadn’t seen him. My heart racing, I leaned against the chair and placed my hand over my chest as he crossed the room, pausing to look outside. “Jeremiah,” I said breathlessly. “I was just...”

“When,” he asked, his voice as cold as I’d ever heard, “were you going to tell me you
fucked
my brother?”