2

Chapter 1

Heat surrounded Marty. A sizzling, sultry, humid heat that washed over her naked body, lapped at her sensitive nipples, and tingled at the juncture of her thighs. It glistened and shimmered over her oil-coated body and sank inside her flesh, almost reaching that spot inside her that always seemed empty, always dark.

Behind her closed eyelids soft color existed, compliments of the sun pouring down around her. There was just the summer surrounding her, heating her, causing her to tingle from the tips of her bare toes, over her waxed pussy and her pale breasts, to the top of her head.

She stretched beneath the heat, luxuriating in it as she hadn't been able to do for far too long.

She should have joined her mother and aunts in France, she thought. They were sunning themselves on the beach, drinking fruity little drinks with umbrellas in them, and relaxing. If she'd had any idea of the surprise her insane boss had intended for her yesterday, then she definitely would have made plans to join them.

She would have enjoyed the laughter that always resulted when her mother and aunts got together.

Instead, she was lying here, wondering what she was missing and why the hell she was here alone.

Just as she would have been doing if she were in France, she thought with amusement. She would have fussed internally every day she was there as she wondered what she was missing at home.

She would have wondered what Khalid was doing. Sexy, charming, brooding, secretive Khalid.

She blew out a heated breath as the image of him rose behind her closed lashes. So tall, broad-shouldered, lean-hipped. A fantasy come to life if all a woman was looking for was the pleasure to be had from sex alone.

There were times she wished she could settle for just the sex. The stolen moments in the darkness of night, a few hours of satisfaction before she went on her way. If she were more that type of a woman, she wouldn't be as tormented by one man as she was by Khalid.

Stroking her fingertips along the bare flesh of her abdomen left a sense of sensual weakness washing over her. There were days, nights, when she ached for his touch. When every nerve ending in her body, desperate for his caress, seemed to throb just under the skin. A touch she had never known.

She almost laughed at the thought. She was pathetic, and the older she got, the more the ache seemed to intensify. She couldn't get him out of her fantasies, or out of her mind. She wondered if she was obsessed.

Marty never obsessed over anything, and definitely never over a man. Khalid seemed to be the exception to her rule. Rolling over on the thick towel cushioning her from the cement surrounding the pool, Marty drew in a hard, deep breath and tried to force the ever-present erotic images of Khalid out of her mind.

She had decisions to make while she was on vacation, decisions that did not include Khalid's arrogance and sexuality. Decisions that could change her life as well as the direction she had once chosen for it.

The private security firm she had been approached by last month had made an offer she found hard to refuse. An offer she might yet accept.

Climbing the ladder in the bureau was beginning to look next to impossible. Her godfather's position as head of the federal offices held her back in ways she hadn't anticipated. She was protected and watched over, and then Deerfield had the nerve to accuse her of "crying" to Zach when things didn't go her way.

The wall to advancement that she was facing at times seemed insurmountable.

The private security firm, on the other hand, looked promising. She had no blood relation working there, no friends, and, even better, her father and godfather weren't involved in any way. She would have a sense of freedom, fewer rules and regulations, and more action and satisfaction. It seemed like a win/win situation so far.

So far.

She hadn't told her fathers about it yet, she hadn't discussed it with her mother, and every time she considered doing so, something stopped her. As though the thought of it were suddenly abhorrent. But she was an adult; she wasn't going to feel like she had to ask permission to play on the other side of the playground.

And while she was considering options, was she going to pull her towel over her naked body sometime before Khalid Mustafa stepped from the family room to the patio where she lay?

Peeking from beneath her lashes, she watched as his shadow lingered for long seconds at the French doors before he stepped into the brilliant rays of the sun.

Like a shadow come to life. Black eyes, black hair, deeply bronzed flesh. The man was like a living sex god. Hard muscle shifted beneath the white silk shirt he wore, just as lean, powerful legs flexed inside the form-fitting jeans that covered them.

"You're going to burn." His shadow eased over her, dulling the heat that had been sinking slowly into her back.

"I never burn." She fought to keep the arousal that whipped through her out of her voice as she lay beneath his gaze. "What are you doing here? Zach's at Dad's house. Next house down the street, if you're not sure where that's at."

"I know where it's located." Deep, dark, his voice washed over her senses with a velvety rasp that shouldn't have had the power to send her juices spilling from her vagina.

Why Khalid? she asked herself. What was it about him that made her so damned hot she rivaled the sun, when other men seemed to leave her cold? So cold that the thought of actually having sex with one of them was impossible to consider.

"Then why are you here?" She lifted herself up on her elbows and raised her head as he squatted in front of her, his dark head tilted, his thickly lashed eyes narrowing on her.

"You look like a virgin sacrifice. Laid out, naked, and tempting the sun to ravage as it chooses."

Wow. He sure as hell had a gift for words. She had known that about him; she just hadn't expected to have him use it to pay homage to her in quite that manner.

"It hasn't ravaged me yet." She looked up at him. "No matter how much I tempt it."

What was that flaring in his gaze? There was more than simple lust there, though the lust was there in spades. A hunger echoed through her body, tightened her nipples, and caused her abdomen to clench in anticipation of pleasure.

And how the hell was she supposed to know it would be pleasure? She had to be the only twenty-seven-year-old virgin left in the country. A woman who knew more about sex than the highest-paid call girl and yet had never known the touch of a lover, because she had to be the most stubborn woman in the world, too. She wanted Khalid. She had wanted him since she was fifteen, and no other man was going to do.

"Some would say you're tempting it as you speak," Khalid stated, his gaze flickering down to the rounded curves of her breasts.

Marty swore she could feel the swollen mounds hardening further, her nipples aching, throbbing with the need for his touch.

This was what he did to her. What he had always done to her. "Tempting it as I speak?" She glanced up at the clear blue sky before turning her gaze back to him. "So far, it hasn't responded."

His lips lifted in a half-smile. "You might be surprised."

"I rather doubt it." Rolling over she sat up, drew the light robe from her side, and pulled it over her as she rose to her feet.

Turning to face him once again, she reminded herself that this man was way out of her league and a damned sight more male than she might be able to handle. That didn't keep her from wanting to try.

"So why are you here if you know Dad and Zach are at the other house?" she questioned, as she gathered up the towel and her gun and the tanning oil beside her towel. "Shouldn't you be there?"

His gaze flickered to the holstered gun before coming back to her.

"I didn't say I knew they were there. I said I knew where it was. Your father is scheduled to meet me here soon. He did not mention the meeting changing to his home."

"You'll have to wait, then." She shrugged.

"I can see this becoming a problem."

Response slammed through her. The rough edge of his voice was just enough to slice through any doubt she may have had that for the moment his attention was focused solely on her.

"It looks like you're stuck with me until he returns then." Her heart was racing, and excitement was building inside her until it felt almost impossible to contain.

"That it does," he agreed.

"No objections then?" Stepping through the French doors, she turned and headed to the kitchen. "That's quite an about-face. The last I noticed, you enjoyed making certain there was an absurd distance between us."

He rarely spoke to her, especially during the past two years while she had been following him on her rabid boss's orders.

"It could be well measured," he chided her, as she stepped to the fridge and pulled it open. "And perhaps that distance is best for both of us."

And he had stated that several times. As they danced at the parties they both attended. Or during her visits to Courtney Sinclair's home on the Sinclair estate that housed the men's club he was a member of. Each time they had come in close contact, he had warned her against it. Warned her until she did no more than roll her eyes at the warnings now.

"Fine. It's not wise. You can leave now." Pulling a pitcher of sweet iced tea from inside the refrigerator, she shot him a look that dared him to go.

Did she have the courage, she wondered, to be the woman she wanted to be? Seducing him was her dream, but did she have the courage to face possible rejection? More than once?

Pulling two glasses from the cupboard, she poured the tea before setting the pitcher on the counter and giving the glass to him.

"Thank you." His eyes locked on hers as he lifted the glass to his lips and sipped.

There was pure sexual hunger in his gaze. Lust filled it, shaped his sexy lips, and tightened the skin over his cheekbones. He watched her like a hawk watches its prey: narrow-eyed, intent, hungry.

"How much longer are you going to wait, Khalid?" She set the glass on the counter as she confronted him. "Forever?"

He stared back at her silently for a long moment.

"What do you want, Marty?" he finally asked, his tone darker now. "You can't know what you're getting into here. You can't know what you're actually reaching for."

"I want you."

Yes, she knew exactly what she wanted, who she wanted. Just as she knew he wanted her. He could deny it until hell froze over, but the truth was there in his eyes, in the hard contours of his face and the sensual fullness of his lips. He seemed to freeze. Like a predator suddenly catching scent of prey, his nostrils flared, his gaze narrowed as it flickered over her and seemed to reflect an intent, dangerous hunger.

He wasn't a man to play with; she had known that for years. There was something intrinsically predatory about him, a silent warning that nothing about him was as it seemed. Unfortunately, that something drew her in ways she couldn't fight.

"Stop tempting me, precious. You may not like what you find on the other side," he said harshly.

Marty inhaled slowly, allowing her tongue to run slowly along her lower lip, as though hesitant, as though considering his warning.

His gaze flared with hunger, with dark, gleaming lust.

Oh yes, he wanted her. Perhaps almost as badly as she wanted him.

She let a smile curve her lips before lifting the tea and sipping it slowly. She wasn't going to argue with him any longer. There was nothing to argue about. They both knew what lay between them like a fire threatening to blaze out of control.

"I understand." She finally nodded. "I'm not a woman who already has a lover. It's rather hard to remain unconnected from a woman when she's your lover rather than another man's."

He was known to share other men's lovers instead of having one of his own. He was the perfect third, from what she understood. Kind. Caring. Considerate. And having absolutely no desire to capture the heart or the loyalty of the woman he slept with.

"Perhaps," she continued, "I should simply find someone willing to consider my choice of a third. Would you be interested then, Khalid?"

She had to admit that the thought only infuriated her. It was Khalid she wanted, totally. His bed she wanted to share, his life she wanted to be a part of.

"I may become murderous," he murmured, before cursing himself for allowing the words to slip free.

Khalid watched Marty now in ways he hadn't allowed himself to before. The threat of another man coming into her life pricked at the darkness that brewed inside him. A sense of possessiveness, of dominance that he had sworn he would never feel again, roiled inside him like a beast struggling to break free.

He had fought too many years to stay the hell away from her. The fascination with her that had built inside him. It was a desire that ate at his soul.

He shouldn't allow himself to touch her. He should never tempt himself as he did now. To touch her would be to risk her, and he knew exactly the cost of that risk.

As he watched her, he realized not for the first time how incredibly fragile and delicate her small body was. It made him see how easily she could be taken, broken. And he had enemies who, though they had remained silent in the past ten years, would strike at her at the slightest opportunity. But even the knowledge of that couldn't still the hunger tearing through him or the desperation that thickened his cock and left his balls pounding with lust.

"I completely understand how such an offer could frighten you, Khalid." Her tone was as gentle as a Southern rainfall, and yet as cutting as ice. "After all, I do believe such things are against club rules, aren't they? The member himself chooses his third. Perhaps I should stick with a lover with a tad more possessiveness."

He almost laughed in surprise. The little wench had managed to turn this around on him and leave him scrambling to find his balance.

"Fear is not quite the emotion I would attribute to what I'm feeling at the moment." He let his gaze rake over her, remembering in exact detail how she had looked glistening beneath the sun, as she lay by the pool's edge.

He watched her flush and saw the innocence, despite the knowledge in her gray eyes. She was self-aware, independent, and, her father swore, willful. But she wasn't a woman who shared herself easily; he rather doubted she had shared herself at all. Yet here she stood, daring him to take her, challenging him with those quicksilver eyes of hers and that damned mocking smile.

They had been playing this game for ages, it seemed. The thrust and parry, the challenge and retreat had gone on so long that he had nearly given in more than once. Until he had learned that she was investigating him.

Did she know, he wondered, how he had missed the flirting, the teasing, the choice that had been taken from him when he'd learned he was a suspected enemy of his country?

There had been nights when he had thought of nothing more than touching her, than filling her eyes with knowledge rather than curiosity, with lust rather than innocence.

The nights he had nearly broken down, had prayed that his past was that, in the past, and that he could reach out for her.

It was that past that held him back. The knowledge of the horror and the blood that could so easily repeat itself. Yet still, he longed for her with a hunger that was nearly impossible to resist.

She had been built for touch, for pleasure. Her sweetly compact body, the full, high breasts, and the gentle curve of her hips were God's gift to any man who set eyes on her. She was beautiful in ways that other women could only hope to be.

From her button nose and pouty lips to her determined chin and stubborn expression, he could see the willful, independent little minx she was. But her eyes. Those eyes truly were the windows to her soul. If the look in them was any indication, then he knew she would burn him alive.

He let his gaze travel over the delicacy of her body once again. He wondered if her skin was as soft as it appeared, if her nipples tasted as sweet as they looked?

His entire body clenched at the thought, while his cock throbbed in heated anticipation. He could touch her, he thought. He could taste the sweetness of her and still pull back, he could still walk away.

He'd never intended to develop more with her than a very close friendship. A friendship that would allow him to share her with whichever lover she eventually chose. If she ever chose one. He'd be damned if he wasn't getting tired of waiting. Of wondering.

"Tell me, are you still a virgin?" He couldn't hold back the question, the need to know. Just as he couldn't hold back the desire that tormented him.

"Are you?" Anger shimmered in her tone, in her gaze. Better the anger than the invitation that glimmered in her eyes moments before.

"I? A virgin?" He grinned at that thought. "Sweetheart, I was born sexually aware. I don't believe I've ever been a virgin."

Of course, that wasn't exactly true, but he loved seeing her eyes narrow with interest and disdain. It made her all the more tempting, made anticipation burn through his loins as he considered all the ways he could touch her, challenge her, be challenged by her.

There was something about her that made him wary, made him fear the man he would be when he touched her. But on the flip side of that coin was the knowledge that inside this woman burned the soul of a sensualist--a lover who would meet him, match him. One who could burn down the night with him. For a while. If he could keep her safe long enough to learn all the intriguing secrets that shadowed her eyes.

"Yes, I also sincerely doubt you were ever a virgin." She gave a soft, ladylike snort at the very thought of it. "That doesn't mean it's any of your business if I'm one or not."

His brow arched at the challenge in her tone. Damn! She could make him harder faster than any woman he had ever known in his life.

"I don't know about that," he murmured, his gaze flicking over her. "When I push my fingers up your tight little pussy, I'd like to know if I should go hard and deep, or if I should merely tease and save such a delicacy for my cock to taste."

Before he finished, her face was flushing a brilliant hue, but her gray eyes were filling with arousal. He would bet his trust fund her pussy was silky wet now, slick and sweet, as her juices spilled from her.

The thought of it had his mouth watering for a taste of her before his common sense could reassert itself. He could easily go to his knees before her, spread her legs, and feast on the soft, silky flesh. She was naked beneath that robe. Her pussy was bare, waxed of the curls that would have shielded it. It would be sensitive to his touch, to his lips and tongue.

He could taste her, just for a moment. Just a moment wouldn't endanger her, surely.

"You're joking," she breathed out, her voice rough, her hands shaking as one lifted from the robe to swipe at the strands of dark blond hair that fell from the clip atop her head. She seriously believed he wasn't serious. He could see it in her eyes.

"Joking?" He tilted his head and watched her curiously. "Because I want to fuck you? Precious, there is no joke in the least in such a desire. The thought of touching you, of having your sweet flesh suck my cock inside you is enough to make me weak in the knees. I never said I didn't want you. I said it would not be wise to give in to such desires."

Her smile was scoffing. "It's not nice to tease like this, Khalid. What happened? Did you lose your little black book? Need a little entertainment to fill in the few minutes before my father's return?"

She watched the grin that tugged at his lips. She had never seen Khalid smile fully, she realized. A tug of amusement at the corner of his lips, a little quirk of a crooked smile, but never a true smile.

"As I'm certain you're aware, I'm never at a loss for playmates," he assured her, as amusement shone in his eyes.

Marty breathed in, slow and easy, fighting the dark fear that wanted to take hold of her as she saw the pure need that filled his eyes.

He hadn't touched her; he had only moved closer. She could feel the heat of his body but not the touch of his flesh. Still, it was enough to make her feel fevered, flushed. She couldn't seem to move away from him, to break the hold he had on her as his gaze stayed locked with hers.

"So I've heard," she mocked him lightly. "The 'playboy sheikh,' I believe is what they call you. Quite a reputation to have, Khalid." And one that bit at her every time she thought about it.

He reached out, his fingers feathering along the strands of hair that escaped her clip before brushing against her jaw. That smallest touch, that lightest stroke, had anticipation racing over her nerve endings.

"Oftentimes a reputation is no more than a shield to protect oneself," he said, his voice quiet, reflective. "To hold at bay the very things you know you cannot have."

Bullshit. This game was growing old, and it was one she was tired of playing.

"Stop messing with me." Stepping back from him, she fought to keep her breathing under control, to hold back the desire that assailed her.

The sexuality that was so much a part of Khalid was beginning to wrap around her, to work its way inside her. She could feel him holding back, feel him fighting himself. The thought that he felt he had to stay away from her confused her, left her wanting to push harder, to find out the limits of the control he was imposing on himself.

"You believe I'm playing?" He reached out to her, slowly. His fingertips touched her cheek and smoothed down her jaw, and she forgot to breathe until his thumb rubbed against her lips.

Swallowing tightly, Marty forced herself not to shake, not to whimper with the response that tore through her. God alone knew how desperately she needed that touch, and how unwilling she was to beg for it.

"Of course you're playing," she scoffed. "You've proven it over the years, Khalid. What's wrong, frightened of me?" She pursed her lips and blew him a mocking kiss.

"Fears are tricky things," he said softly, the flavor of his accent whispering across her senses as he ran the back of his fingers down her arm. "They lock themselves inside your mind and become rooted in your very soul. Fighting them is never easy, but once you learn how to control them . . ." He lifted his gaze to stare into her eyes, to mesmerize her, lock her to him. "Once you learn how to control them, precious, then you control yourself."

She wanted to roll her eyes at the teasing in his tone. She would have, except she heard the faintest thread of sincerity there.

"Then," he continued, "you learn that control can be your best friend. Your wisest counsel. When tempted by a woman who you seem to have no defenses against, it comes in rather handy." He whispered the last sentence softly against her ear. "Just as it comes in handy while showing a woman what should have always been hers."

"And that would be?" If he didn't kiss her, she was going to die. If he didn't touch her again, her flesh was going to burn to cinders from the need.

"A woman should always know pleasure."

She watched as his head began to lower, as he continued to whisper.

"A woman should revel in her sensuality, in that side of her nature that aches for touch, aches to be possessed." His voice lowered, rasped, throbbed with desire as his lips finally brushed against hers. "A woman, precious, should always be able to fulfill the desires that haunt that sensual core of her being. Tell me, Marty," he breathed roughly, "what desires haunt your woman's core?"

"Desires for you," she whispered back, and her breath nearly caught at the flare of response in his gaze.

He haunted her. She ached for his touch. She ached for his kiss. Her lips parted slowly as a near brutal need began to thunder through her body.

She had tracked him for two years. Followed him. She had seen the sexual excesses he immersed himself in, and she had seen the lonely nights where he stood in his window and stared down at her.

He had always seemed to know where she was, where she hid to watch him, how she ached. In his expression she had seen the brooding sensuality and a dark shadow of torment. A torment that sometimes reminded her of her own.

"I want to kiss you," he said. "Sweet candied lips. I look at them, and my body tightens with the need to possess you, Marty. To fuck you until you're screaming for more. Screaming for me. Common sense warns me to pull back. But the thought of those sweet lips keeps me coming back."

His voice hardened with a surge of lust as his eyes flashed with an inner fire a second before his fingers slid into her hair.

He didn't grab the strands. His large palm cupped the back of her head in a gentle if unbreakable grip as his head slanted and lowered.

Why she had expected a rough, bruising kiss, she wasn't certain. But what came was anything but ungentle. Firm lips touched her own, parted them as a cry left her mouth.

She was shaking in his grip, her hands lifting to hold his wrist as his other hand gripped her hip and held her to him. She could feel her nails digging into his flesh, feel a plethora of sensations rocking through her system as it seemed to overload on the most exquisite pleasure that she could have known.

Electricity filled his kiss. Sensations unlike anything she had ever known whipped through her, destroying her senses as his tongue licked at hers, touching it with slow, thorough pleasure and destructive heat.

When he drew back, Marty could only stare back at him in shock. It was her first kiss in years.

She fought to draw in oxygen. She fought to simply stand upright as his head tilted, his lips moving along her jawline to the shell of her ear.

"So sweet," he whispered, as her lashes drifted closed and she became immersed in the sensual, sexual world he was building around her. "I could take you just like this, Marty. So slow and easy, like a gentle summer rain."

His fingers were at her shoulders, touching the bare flesh beneath her robe, drawing the material over her shoulders as she felt her breasts throb with the need for touch now. His calloused fingertips sent a blaze of friction over her skin and had her suddenly pressing closer, needing more, needing his touch like the land needed the sun.

"I've dreamed of you," she said. "Of you taking me, Khalid. Fucking me slow and easy, fast and hard." Her breath caught as his body jerked, as though he had been struck, while lust became a brilliant flame in his eyes and urged her on. "I want to watch while you take me. See your cock press inside me while the pleasure burns me alive. I fantasize about it. I masturbate to it."

Her nails bit deeper into the flesh of his wrist as that image tore through her mind.

It was an image she gave him, an image she shared with him as his dark gaze locked with her own.

His hand slid to her breast as his breathing became harder, heavier. He cupped the rounded curve and dragged a shattered cry from her lips as sensation seemed to sear every nerve ending in her body. The stroke of his thumb over her nipple sent a near painful surge of bliss tearing to her womb, clenching it with a hard, tight spasm that stole her breath.

Jerking her head back, her gaze went to where his fingers cupped her flesh. A strong, dark hand, fingers outspread, her pale flesh cupped within it as he lifted the hardened tip of her nipple to his mouth.

"Oh God!" The sharp cry tore unbidden from her throat.

His lips wrapped around the pale pink areola, drew it inside his mouth, surrounded it with fire. His cheeks hollowed as he began to draw on her, his black eyes stared back at her, flickers of light trapped in a midnight sky, as Marty felt her pussy begin to burn, her clit to swell tight and hard, a near rapturous pleasure surging through her entire system. She felt the wet heat spill along the naked folds of flesh, surrounding her clit, sensitizing it further.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She could only watch as he destroyed her senses with his suckling mouth and wicked tongue.

When his head lifted, she flinched. The absence of sensation sent a violent, silent protest racing through her body, causing her to arch closer, to plead for more.

"So pretty." His fingertip touched her nipple before his gaze lifted back to her. "So innocent. Tell me, precious, would you flush with the same dazed pleasure if I sucked your clit instead?"

Her clit pulsed violently, the ache centered in the swollen nub, radiating through her body as it demanded more. She wanted to push him further, wanted to see him slip past the limit of his control but couldn't find the breath to speak, to tease.

"Should I suck that pretty clit now and find out?" The suggestion had her lips parting, the breath rushing from her lungs as another spasm of pure pleasure tightened her womb.

She wanted to scream yes. She wanted to beg for it. She wanted to watch his face as he touched her there, suckling her as he had her nipple, laving it with his tongue.

Her pussy convulsed, vibrating with a surge of such intense pleasure that she cried out from the sharp contractions.

Khalid blinked. Staring into her dazed expression he felt a punch of pure lust as the small orgasm rocketed through her from nothing more than his suggestion that he suck her clit.

Sweet heaven, what had he begun here? The innocence, the pure shocked delirium that filled her face at once humbled and terrified him.

He let his hand slide from her breast, down her stomach to the bare, wet mound of her pussy as she arched closer to him. He was a dead man if she was still innocent. He would expire there on the floor from both shock and regret.

She was twenty-seven years old. Surely to God she wasn't as innocent as she seemed. She couldn't be.

His fingers slid through slick feminine juices. The heat nearly scalded his fingers, the plump, tightly swollen nub of her clit drawing his attention as his fingertip glanced over it.

He needed to be inside her. His cock was pounding, demanding action. The need to fuck her was destroying him.

"Marty, we're home."

Khalid's gaze jerked from her face to the doorway as her father's voice sliced through the pleasure-dazed atmosphere of the room.

Hell, Mathews would fucking kill him. Jennings would drive a stake into his heart with a smile.

Before he could think, Marty jerked from him, her hands shaking. Her face flushed and filled with dazed confusion as she stared back at him and attempted to right the thin robe she wore.

"Marty?" Joe Mathews and Zach Jennings stepped into the room, and came to a hard, surprised stop.

There was no missing what they all knew had been going on. There was no mistaking the shock on Marty's face or the reddened rasp from the stubble of Khalid's beard against her neck.

Mathews took it all in, as did the other man. Eyes narrowed, they stared at Marty, then at Khalid.

"I'll just . . ." She swallowed tightly, panic filling her eyes now. "Shower." She nodded quickly. "I need to shower."

Like a teenager caught making out with her boyfriend, she turned and ran as Khalid watched her with amusement. The temptress, though still present in her gaze, fought to hide in the presence of her fathers.

While pushing his fingers through his hair, Khalid restrained the hard breath that would have escaped. He breathed in slowly, roughly, before crossing his arms over his chest and staring back at the two men with more arrogance than he felt at the moment.

That arrogance did little to affect the senator or the FBI director. Both men stared back at him in shock.

"I've lived the whole of her twenty-seven years and never had to catch her with a lover," Joe suddenly snarled, as he glared at Khalid. "I would appreciate never seeing it again, if you don't mind very much."

Khalid had to admit, he knew how she felt when she ran. He felt like a teenager caught with his hand in his girlfriend's pants, and damned if it wasn't awkward.

"I believe I could go the whole of the rest of my life and never have you walk in on such a thing again." Khalid cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Joe's outrage was a tangible thing as he stared at Khalid, but it was Zach's silence, the quiet, thoughtful look on his face that worried Khalid. Of the two, Zach was definitely the more dangerous.

Khalid refrained from giving in to the sense of discomfort that threatened to overcome him as Zach's look continued to pierce him with cool hazel eyes.

"Stay away from her unless you intend to do more than simply share her bed for a few nights," Zach finally stated, as he moved into the kitchen and over to the coffeepot. "She's not a toy to be played with, Khalid."

Khalid didn't miss the edge of steel in his voice.

"Of course she isn't. I realize that." He gave a sharp nod of his head.

He did understand. The world he was a part of existed on rules, rules that were not made to be broken, because of the very nature of the men involved.

Zach had given the ultimatum in front of a club witness. It didn't matter that the witness was also Marty's father or that he and Joe were both lovers with the same woman. Zach was Marty's godfather, equivalent to her father, and his wishes couldn't be discounted.

"Do you?" Zach turned back to him. "I've watched her obsession grow over the years where you're concerned, just as I've seen the way you watch her. But I also know you, son. You're not the forever kind. You're content to be no more than the other lover. That's not what she'll want from you. That's not what she needs."

"I understand, I need no lectures from you," Khalid bit out coolly, barely restraining his anger. "You may have caught us acting like teenagers, but that doesn't mean I'll be talked to as one."

"When you're caught acting that way in my house, with my daughter, then you can expect it," Zach informed him just as coolly. "Now stay the hell away from her unless you intend to force my hand in this. You don't want to do that."

Khalid stared back at the other man, assessed the degree of sincerity in his tone, and recognized the very serious warning he was being given.

And while he recognized the warning, he could have told the other man that it would be just as powerless against the hunger building between himself and Marty.

Instead, with a sharp nod, he strode from the room, then from the house. It was a warning he couldn't ignore, he told himself, as his driver, Abdul, opened the limo door and he slid inside. A warning he shouldn't discount. He wouldn't until he came against the fiery need in her gaze once again. And it was likely a decision he would pay for.

Zach wasn't just a member of the very exclusive club they both belonged to; he was also a part of the judicial committee that governed it and one of the most powerful members sitting on that panel.

The rules to their lives were simple, straightforward. They had to be for the club to have survived the past two centuries.

Until now, though, Khalid had never found them restrictive. Until now, he had never regretted them.