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,’ he warned huskily, and she saw his pupils dilate. No doubt her thoughts had shown in her eyes, and he was thinking something along exactly the same lines.
All he had to do was dip his head slightly and he’d be kissing her again. Tasting her. Inciting her to taste him, touch him in return. And, Lord, she wanted to touch. Taste. Feel him filling her.
She swallowed hard.
Whatever was wrong with her? She never, but never, turned into a lust-crazed maniac. For the last four years she’d been single and perfectly happy with that situation. She had no intention of getting involved again. But this man had drawn an instant response from her. Made her feel the way nobody had before.
Which, as he was a total stranger, was insane.
This shouldn’t be happening.
She only hoped the people who’d come out onto the balcony would go back into the main room again. The longer they had to stay behind the potted palm, the more embarrassing it would be when they finally emerged.
Again, his thoughts must have been in tandem with hers, because he said softly, ‘The French doors are the only way out. Unless you’re a gymnast in disguise and can launch yourself off the balcony onto a distant drainpipe, then shin down it.’
‘Hardly. And I haven’t been on a double-oh-seven training course,’ she said ruefully, ‘or I could’ve magicked a steel line from somewhere and clipped it onto the ironwork and we could both have abseiled down to the balcony beneath this one and escaped through the downstairs flat.’
‘Great idea.’ His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘I wonder if my watch…?’ He tapped it gently with his forefinger. ‘Sadly, no. It’s just a watch, I’m afraid. I didn’t do the double-oh-seven training course, either.’
His teasing smile was the sexiest thing Lily had ever seen, and she almost—almost—found herself reaching up to pull his head back down to hers. But she managed to keep herself under control. Just.
‘Looks like we’ll have to wait it out, then,’ she said quietly.
A wait that grew more and more awkward with every second; she didn’t dare meet his eyes, not wanting him to guess how much she wanted him to kiss her again.
But then, at last, the hubbub of voices on the other side of the potted palms grew quiet and finally died away, followed by the distinct sound of the balcony doors closing.
Alone again.
And although the feeling of danger should’ve vanished with the people who’d