Turkish Delights Series (28 page)

“Hey, doll. Where’d ya go?”

She shook his hand off. “You found me so why don’t you tell me where I went. Dumbass.” The last word she whispered. He tightened his grip, not letting her escape.

“I may be a dumbass, but I know prime pussy when I smell it.”

She laughed. “You must get all kinds of it with that sweet pickup line.”
I’m a real creep magnet lately
.

“I do, as a matter of fact, like I’m about to right now.” He yanked her close, rubbing his crotch against her leg. Lale squirmed and tried to escape. He leaned in, the sour smell of whiskey nearly made her gag. “And you know you want it. I can tell.” He tried to capture her lips.

“Get
off
me, you creep.” She looked around. Figures she’d find the darkest possible hallway and allow herself to get cornered in it. He tried to kiss her again. She pushed against his chest. He was surprisingly strong for such a scrawny dude. “Seriously, I mean it. I’m gonna....”

“The only thing you’re gonna do is suck my—” A sudden rush of air escaped his mouth. Lale gaped in surprise as an impossibly large hand wrapped itself around her stalker’s neck, nearly lifting him into the air.

“I think you need to leave.” The huge, gorgeous man who’d been staring at her earlier kept a grip on the guy's neck. With a stare of terror at the giant manhandling him, the skinny creep bolted. The other man turned to Lale. She sucked air, frozen with fear, and no small amount of lust at the specimen in front of her. His eyes shone. Something gave out around the area of her knees, and she made a concentrated effort not to fall to the floor in front of him.

“And you need to not act like that. It only attracts assholes.” He had a curious accented lilt to his deep voice...familiar, but not, at the same time.

Her skin prickled at his tone. “Well thanks, but you can spare me the advice. I'll act any way I want.”

He took one step into her space, grabbed her wrists, and pinned them over her head against the wall. She squirmed, but his gaze held her still. The marble felt good, cool to her overheated skin. Lale prepared for his lips as he leaned toward her. Couldn’t wait to get a taste. But he bypassed them and whispered in her ear.

“If you were mine, you'd never act like that again.” She shivered and had to clench her thighs together against the heat that gathered between them. Trying to marshal defiance to his comment, she stared up at him. His very presence provoked the oddest sensation—almost a melting feeling—inside. But no one talked to her that way, no matter how huge, or hot, or utterly kissable.

“Well, good thing for us I'm
not
yours. I belong to nobody.” Her heart pounded in her ears. He was…incredible. And Greek. She suddenly placed the gentle swell of his accent in her ear. Now this could get interesting. Lale pictured her grandmother’s horror if she told them she’d married a huge Greek.
Married? Jesus, that’s a bit of a leap, isn’t it?

She shut her eyes against the sensations of his teeth on her earlobe, of his hands trapping her wrists against the wall.
What a colossal bossy asshole
. But damn if she didn't want to hear more. He chuckled and pressed into her body. The sensation of his massive erection against her stomach made her gasp. But then he simply released her, taking a step back. Her wrists were cold, abandoned. She wanted his hands back where they were. But she drew her face into a frown and crossed her arms. When he flicked at the piercing on her lower lip, she tried not to flinch.

“How many more of these are you hiding?”

“None of your fucking business, Greek.” She spat on the floor.

His grin turned wolfish, as he gripped her upper arm, yanking her back to his side. “I'm glad you figured that out.” His full tempting lips hovered out of her reach. Lale tried not to whimper or beg. But the inclination hovered there nonetheless. “Just so we know where we all stand, Turk.”

She tried to regain her composure. His grip got tighter. The eroticism of the moment immobilized her. She groaned when he crushed his lips to hers, possessed her with his tongue, his hand never letting go of her arm. His warm mouth invited, and she sensed the man knew just how to use it. It took all she had not to climb up his large frame and wrap herself around him. The odd, disturbing need for him, his words, his help, his presence, swept through her. But this would not do. She needed no one. Lale made herself break away. Staring into his swarthy face, she growled, “Let. Go. Of. My. Arm.”

“Gladly. I don't like girls who don't do what they're told. They waste my time. Especially Turkish ones. They’re the worst.” He turned on his heel and stalked away. Lale watched the fine vision of his dark-denimed ass and licked her lips.
What a prick.
She shook her head to clear it and made her way back out onto the dance floor. But her brain overflowed with images of a large, sexy, bossy Greek in black.

***

Andreas walked past the group of men gathering in the club’s foyer and out the door. His face burned and his cock throbbed. He couldn’t believe he had done that—grabbed her and tried to make her surrender to him. He sensed she would, eventually. It would require some time and patience on his part. But after one taste of that woman’s delicious lips, he simply could not imagine spending another second in the damn club.

“Hey, Andreas, you going with us?” A voice called from behind him. He closed his eyes.

“I’ll, um, meet you there.” He hopped on his Harley and fired it up. The motor vibrated between his thighs. The power there soothed him, calmed his rattled nerves. He exited the parking lot, unsure if he would actually make his way to the strip club or not. His brain swam from the smell, sight, and feel of her. And of his need to control, to take her, like he sensed she wanted to be taken.
And a Turk on top of it all
. A smile crept over his face as the hot wind attempted to blow the woman out of his head. His dear, departed grandmother would be rolling in her grave. There was “no love lost” between the two countries, as closely as their histories and cultures intertwined. Each had a penchant for blaming the other for all their woes, some founded, some not. “‘No hate left unsaid’ would be more like it.”

He took a breath and fought the urge to head home. Who knows, a few expensive lap dances and glitter on his clothes from the beauties at the Rhino and perhaps the damn Turkish girl would be gone from his consciousness. But he knew better. He parked the bike in the busy parking lot of Vegas’ largest and most popular gentlemen’s club, tossed his keys to a valet and sauntered in. He had two gorgeous, topless women hanging off his arms within seconds. But the dark eyes of the woman from the club never left him. Not once.

Chapter Six

Lale wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror and stared at herself. “Blind date” had never been part of her vocabulary, ever. She never needed a setup, could get her own men, at least for the short term. Dressed and ready within minutes, she skipped her usual heavy hand with makeup, keeping it simple. She wandered out onto her balcony, letting her thick black hair dry naturally, and sipped some wine. Her heart pounded.
Good Lord, am I actually nervous? About a stupid date?
Visions of the Greek from last night kept intruding, making her sigh and shake her head.

She glanced at the clock for the millionth time. Approximately four minutes had passed since the last time she looked. Her phone beeped with a text.
Emre.

Have fun tonight. Keep an open mind. You never know what can happen.

Whatever. I don’t need to be set up. I don’t know why you did it.

I didn’t, remember? Elle did.

You back in her good graces yet, you pig?

No
. Lale winced. She didn’t know how to reply. But he took care of that by adding:
But I’m going back Monday. We have had lots of conversation, and I am truly sorry for saying that to you. Not just because my wife kicked me out over it either.

Good. Gotta run. My dream date awaits.

I love you
. Lale frowned at the screen. To her knowledge Emre had never said that to her in her entire life.

I know.

Try to behave. Or barring that, be polite.

All right already, brother. I gotta go
.

***

Andreas was early—normal for him. He liked to get a handle on his surroundings, and frankly, nervousness made him even earlier. Blind dates were not usually his style. He liked to meet women on his own terms, not as part of some elaborate set up, like this one. He nursed his scotch. The previous night had been a late one. He’d stayed sober, enjoyed the expensive attentions of some lovely ladies at the club, and fallen into bed around three a.m. A long morning workout had helped dispel some of his tension. Hopefully this little dream date thing would not only get his sister off his back, but would force the dark-skinned sultry girl from the club out of his brain.

He counted punctuality as one of his pet peeves so by the time a female figure appeared alone in the doorway of the exclusive restaurant, back lit so he couldn’t see her face, and nearly twenty minutes late, he frowned. Dressed in a short skirt, her long legs were fit, but not skinny. She had womanly curves exactly where he liked them. The cinched in, wide belt accentuated her hips and the very appealing swell of her breasts. Her sleeveless and filmy shirt allowed just enough of her rich olive skin to show. His eyes traveled up the long expanse of her long neck and came to rest right on the very eyes that had haunted him since the night before. She took a step into the restaurant’s dim interior. His cock sprang to instant, painful attention. He gulped down the remainder of his drink and watched her take a few more steps inside, using the time to really assess her perfection. The patent leather stilettos made him groan. He was fucked, well and truly. And the girl had serious attitude to match her good looks if he remembered correctly. He sensed his natural Dom rear up, take control for the first time in months, maybe even years. He stood, buttoned his jacket over the bulge in his trousers and made a decision. He’d tell her everything, exactly what he wanted, and let her decide.

The dim light forced Lale to take a few moments and figure out where everything was in the restaurant. Her ears buzzed with nervousness. Something in the room shifted, a puff of cool air blew past her, ruffling her hair as she took a further step inside. Within seconds, she locked eyes with the Greek. Taking an involuntary step back, Lale immediately realized he had to be her date.
Mas allah
…. She put a hand to her throat. But then he smiled at her—an amazing, beautiful thing that lit up his entire, incredible face. When he shrugged and held out a hand, an eerie, unfamiliar calm settled over her psyche.

She took a deep breath and walked to the table where he stood, holding out her chair. She glanced down, unable to meet his eyes for some reason and sat. The moment he joined her, a plate of succulent fruits, nuts, olives, cheese, and some smoked salmon appeared in front of them. Her wine glass got filled with something red and rich smelling. Lale blinked then looked up.
Dear God, he is gorgeous. And something else…something dark, yet lovely…just out of reach
….

“Cheers.” He lifted his glass. “Nice to meet you.”

She raised hers, clinked his and took a sip. Realizing she had yet to speak, she cleared her throat, touched a soft napkin to her lips, stalling.

“So, I guess I should know your name, otherwise you are going to be ‘the Greek’ to me all night.” Lale winced at herself. “I’m, um, Lale.” She held her hand out over the small table.

The electric spark that crawled up her arm to the base of her brain when he touched her nearly made her moan. Sweat beaded her upper lip but the rest of her body shivered. She gulped as his huge hand engulfed hers.

“Beautiful Tulip, eh? Nice. Very apt. You are lovely.” He let go. Lale frowned. He stayed quiet, munching on an olive, staring holes into her. She sipped more wine. The silence stretched out beyond anything resembling comfortable or even polite.

“Okay then.” She reached out for an olive, popped it in her mouth, and nearly choked on it. He stood and pounded her back. She grabbed water, mortified. After she regained her breath, he sat back down and motioned for the waiter without taking his eyes off her.

“The lady will have the Circassian Chicken, no bread, with a spinach salad, hold the onions and blue cheese. I’ll have the
osso buco
, extra bread, no salad,” he ordered in textbook perfect French. Lale gaped at the man, amazed, pissed at his assumptions and suddenly starving at the thought of the chicken dish. Easily one of her favorites; she hadn’t had it since leaving Turkey.

“How did you know I…?”

He held up a hand. “Let me clarify this for you now, my dear. I like to be in control. I expect it, frankly.” He took a sip of wine. Lale’s core continued its dangerous meltdown. She had no idea what he meant, but something in her already responded in ways she couldn’t fathom. “I take pride in knowing what my, um, partner needs from me. I noticed you didn’t eat a bite of the cheese. I have some other Turkish friends—although I loathe to admit it—who are lactose intolerant. I think it is common in your country, this digestive weakness.”

“But—” Lale’s face burned and her temper rose to meet the lust that roiled through her, keeping her skin pebbled and her heart thudding.

“I’m not finished.” His voice stayed low, firm, sexy. “Yes, I played football. In Miami. For seven years, I hit the center of the opposing team as hard as I could, trying to get to the quarterback. I played this position well because I’d been the center in college at Arizona. After my third major concussion I retired.” He refilled Lale’s wine glass. She kept staring at him, transfixed by his face, his eyes, the soft cadence of his voice. “Yes, I have been married. My ex-wife started out as my sub, or my submissive, then transformed into a slave. Our relationship was very complex, exciting and as it turns out, a complete lie.”