Pure Desire [Pure 3] (Siren Publishing Allure) (9 page)

She touched his arm, and it felt like searing heat blazed beneath his skin.

“Are you always this brazen?” He intentionally sounded affronted, hoping she became intimidated and scared. She didn’t move.

She dropped her hand, and he instantly wished she hadn’t. “A man has his right to privacy. You intrigue me, Noor, and I’m afraid my curiosity was unavoidable. I didn’t mean to pry and make you uncomfortable.”

Too fucking late
. “Nor did I mean to be abrupt, but you seem straightforward for a woman.” The notion didn’t bother him in the least. His preference in females tended to side with the fiery challenge, as opposed to the meek and submissive this circa cultivated, if he remembered what he learned. It was something to say. To keep his thoughts in the right direction where Allura was concerned, he needed to remain focused.

She laughed in a fluttery and husky tone that encased him in the delightful yet arousing sound. He wondered if her voice would deepen to a sultry contralto as she purred and withered beneath him while he drove his cock inside her. Immaculate Providence, help him. The mere thought left his cock ramrod straight and aching with a vicious need.

“Channing warned me about such.”

“You apparently don’t listen to your brother,” he murmured.

Her eyes brightened, teasing, as she stared boldly. “Are you offended, Noor? I know my bluntness tends to put some men off.”

It was all he could do not to throw her over his shoulder, carry her away, and assuage the lust simmering through his body straight into his cock. He felt the heaviness press against his pants, to the point he feared he might embarrassingly come.

“You don’t frighten me, Allura, if it’s what you are asking.”

Allura laughed again, a throaty rasp that intensified the hunger inside him. Noor swore the sun brightened two shades, leaving him sweltering, wanting, desire eating at his flesh. He shifted his feet to adjust the material hugging his cock, in hopes of some comfort, damned relief for her effect on him. When he met her gaze again, he saw her eyes glued blatantly centered on his erection. The tip of a slim pink tongue snaked out and moistened her lips. Noor fought the groan rising in his throat.

“That is good to know, Noor. Not that I’m surprised. If you were similar to the men I’m accustomed to encountering, you would have high-tailed it out of here by now.” She giggled. Her gaze flickered over the outline of his cock straining against his crotch.

Noor leaned forward, captured her chin between his fingers, and tilted upwards. He ran his thumbpad over the cute dimple delicately carved into her chin. “I’m not like most men, Allura,” he said ultralow. He studied the pouty lips, kissable mouth begging for a kiss, and forcibly made the action to step back and let her go. “Remember such, please.” He gritted his teeth.

“My goodness, you almost sound as if you’re warning me.”

“You’re astute, Allura. I like that. If you don’t mind showing me to my quarters, I would like to have time to freshen up before supper.” He held her stare briefly, and then turned away and finished securing his things. Intentionally, he dallied, wasting time, doing anything but face her again. Not until he got the sizzling desire to hike her skirts around the slender waist and fuck her right out in the open. He sensed hesitation, confusion, smelled her arousal, all mixtures of sensations and pheromones easily invaded his nostrils and brain, making him acutely aware his salacious thoughts weren’t one-sided. Lord help him if she didn’t back down, Noor thought. He wasn’t made of granite. His cock felt as stiff but he knew the steely reserve centered in his lower extremities ended there.

“Once again, if I offended you, I apologize.”

A sign of relief washed over Noor. At least one of them was sensible.

This time he walked beside her instead of behind her to keep his mind on the mission and his eyes off her ass. If he was lucky, he would survive the night without having his wicked way with her.

Maybe.

At least he managed to make it to the room that adjoined to the main house but had a separate door off to the right of the porch without incident. He waited for Allura to unlatch the door. She entered, and he walked past her trail of sweetness into the chamber.

The area was spacious and scented heavily of pine and outdoors, which made up the unique landscape. He surveyed the room, noticing the dated items with Native America ancestry. He had read and seen pictures about the artifacts. All the items constructed precisely as he recalled viewing the crafts during his history lesson. The leather beaded and feathered headdress hung over the fireplace mantel. An orange, brown, white, and tan multicolored rug cushioned his boots, covered the hardwood flooring. A buffalo hide draped over a cream leather couch and sturdy, distressed wooden side and coffee tables with iron handles were positioned to make a comfortable sitting area. Atop the table weaved baskets sat adorned with fresh wild flowers. Allura had added her touch, he assumed. She carried the same scent. A potent fragrance eased inside and teased his nostrils, leaving him to wonder if she rolled around in the flowers, or perhaps she bathed with soap, regardless, the scent wreaked all kinds of hell on his senses.

“The rooms were an added addition to the main house when my mother’s uncle came to stay with us before the great exodus where most of the Indians in these parts were forced to Oklahoma to the reservations. He was a full-blooded Cherokee, unfortunately aged by then and unable to flee into the mountains with others of his tribe. Hearing of his plight, Mother refused to allow him to stay behind and die or get slaughtered like so many of his people. Like his nature, his name was Strong Wind. He was a very proud man. He lived with us until his death. I miss him. We spent countless hours together. As a child he intrigued me.” She laughed slightly, smiled warmly. “I believe once he became familiar with me, we fascinated each other. I taught him English, he tutored me in the Cherokee dialogue, educated me about my ancestors, and we became very close, inseparable before his death. Fortunately, I was able to convince him to write his memoirs.” She looked at Noor. “There is so much to learn of his story, and I believe you would find what he had to say, his point of view, interesting. If you want, I could bring the books to you and in your spare time you could read them.”

“I think I would like that very much,” he said, continuing to view the room. Then he shifted his attention when she walked in front of him and stopped.

“Strong Wind sometimes lapsed into his own language and drew pictures and symbols instead of writing. It was easier and more comfortable for him. I could help you translate, if you like.”

“I look forward to reading the material.”

Allura stared at him. Noor countered the gaze, doing his best not to be affected by the sight he should have been accustomed to by now. As if he could ever get used to her. It was all he could do to keep from touching the creamy, tanned, flawless skin and curvy form, sexually appealing delights that dazzled the eyes and heated his blood. His fingers trembled to touch her and validate if Allura existed. Had his imagination gone into such a sensual abyss, it ran amuck? If he ran his fingertips over the ultra- feminine column of her throat, would she fade away?

She broke the magical spell saying, “Allow me to show you around.” She moved before he could stop her. He needed to make her leave. For his sanity, and her wellbeing, he didn’t know how much longer he could take the torment of being in close proximity without pulling her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her, caress the coal silky strands falling over her shoulders like dark wings, and taste everything feminine about her. Which was much, and all gloriously packaged to perfection, making him consider biting his tongue to feel the sting of pain replace the wanton edge to fuck her. He considered it, just to keep his mind in check and his body from screaming with the uncontrollable urge to sensually stroke her from head to toe. With a deliriously slow methodical caress, he knew he would lose himself in the temptation, willingly, he feared.

In lust, blind and numb, he followed her into the bedroom. The first thing he noticed was the oversized bedstead centered in the room. Handcrafted dark pine with short solid posts nearly covered the entire space in the chamber. The comforter’s fabric, rich in muted coral, brown, and forest green patterns, covered the bed, generous oversized pillowcases with bold stripes matched the brown hues, which were masculine and appealing. The ceiling, high, arched, with wood trimming running along the seams and intersecting in the middle, gave him ample height allowances. The armoire, deep wood, iron handled, complimented the night table standing on one side of the bed. The room reflected the calm yet bold, man who it was created for. Noor could feel Strong Wind’s presence.

A large watercolor painting, with a hand carved sturdy frame, hung over the bed by entwined barbed wire. Noor stepped beside the bed and stared at the sturdy frame that held the painting. He admired the painting’s authenticity on the stretched leather canvas. Riding through Legend, he recognized the scene someone artistically mastered on canvas. All vibrant tones of nature: a cluster of trees in front of towering mountains, splashes of blue hues for the stream, dots of wildflowers winding along the river’s edge of tall willowy grass. He could see the soft brush strokes of greenery gave the impression it blew in a brisk wind.

Her pleasant aroma became prevalent once again, and he knew she stood behind him before Allura spoke. “It’s where my uncle is buried. This is where he lived, just over the ridge of mountains, right here.” She balanced on tiptoes, leaned forward, and pointed a finger at the mountains. “During the season strong winds sweep down the valley and swirl around the area like a great gust of breeze disrupts the calm, hence, his name Strong Wind. He loved the landscape, majestic beauty, and peaceful solitude it offered him when he needed to escape and think past his troubles.” She straightened, looked at Noor. “One of the best joys of my life was to give it to him before he died.”

“You did this excellent work? You have exceptional skills.”

She smiled, seemingly pleased by his compliment. “

“Thank you, Noor. I have a creative nature and many talents.”

Instead of asking her to expound on her comment, he moved away and walked to the door in the corner of the room, to keep from speaking his scandalous thoughts aloud. He considered himself a bit of an art connoisseur, collected various Van Gogh originals, paintings and sketches, and his ever-growing collection was enough to fit a small gallery. He appreciated Allura’s interest in art but frankly, his present thoughts couldn’t get past the question of her talents in the boudoir. He swallowed hard, concentrated. “I assume this is the cleansing chamber?”

Allura looked at him oddly. “If you mean by that the bathroom, yes.” She swept by him before he could reach the door. She opened it for him. Noor did a quick assessment, noting nothing inside piqued his interest except the large, oblong object with the white smooth surface and silver hardware. The long and deep basin, large enough for two, definitely spiked his curiosity, as he wondered to its use. As he considered all types of possibilities, he leaned against the doorframe. “Thank you for showing me around. I believe I can manage from here. I will see you this evening, Allura.” His tone was soft and dismissive at the same time. When she didn’t take the hint, he took her elbow gently and led her from the room toward the living area.

He was surprised, maybe not, Allura being Allura, when she shrugged out of his hold. “You needn’t shoo me out like a mother hen would her chicks, Noor.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” he lied. The yearning for her greatly ebbed and flowed through his body and set him aflame with a maddening urge to touch, caress, and kiss her. Definitely fuck her. As if he could taste her, he licked his lips, suffered through the ripe emotions of primal lust that frothed on the surface, threatening to shred his composure.

Sex was sex, a means to an end to appease the appetite for gratification that followed a lustful night of cohabiting. His lover’s list was extensive, and very few, if any, had ignited anything close to the ravenous urgency he experienced in her presence. All the emotions fresh, and he had yet to experience her.

Damn it, he was in trouble.

Under the constraint of bursting from need, his tone came out rough. “Allura, you should leave. Now.”

She arched her eyebrow, questioningly. “Why?”

He wrapped his fingers around her arm again, said firmly, “You know why. A, if Channing comes looking for you all hell will break free, and B, if you don’t go, I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

A slight curl of her lips indicated Allura was pleased. Her eyes flashed teasingly. “You
are
scared of Channing, aren’t you? I told you Channing does not govern me.”

Noor pressed forward, dangerously close, within inches of her lips, whispering. “Maybe that is where the fault lies. Are you trying to get a rise out of me?”

Bold as brass, sassy too boot—he could think of several southern clichés to describe the fiery temptress who sufficiently, easily, heated him to boiling. Noor inhaled sharply as lust-filled ripples cascaded down and settled in his groin. His cock throbbed, so fucking hard it ached like a toothache, snatching all sanity, and he wondered if he shouldn’t kill himself. For his thoughts, what he wanted to do to her, he was a dead man anyway once Channing found out. He wouldn’t make it back home, so the agency consequences were inconsequential. Channing would kill him first.