Turkish Delights 0.50 - 4.00 Series Bundle Read online

  And here she was, mere inches from him, her chest heaving with some combination of fear and anger and, if he wasn’t mistaken, lust. Levent was no virgin. His height was an anomaly among Turkish men, but he’d inherited it and the dark, olive-skinned good looks of his father. It made finding women willing to mess around pretty easy. Too easy. Now that he was feeling better about his business, about his place in the world, he needed something more. He wanted the woman standing here with him. But it simply could never be. He took a deep breath and a chance that a simple touch would calm her and reached for her arm.

  The spark that shot into his hand made him wince. He should take his hand off her, but didn’t. He watched, an objective observer, as he moved to the bare skin of her upper arm, down to her elbow, and took her shaking hand. As if he were watching from a distance, he saw himself pulling her close, taking a deep breath of her scent—a combination of citrusy perfume or shampoo and a spicy, seductive essence that he’d come to forever associate with Vivian. His brain tried to put on the brakes, but his body’s need to feel, to touch, to caress overruled all logic. It had been a long time coming. He couldn’t resist any longer.

  Her lips were set in a hard line, but he slipped the hat off and smiled at the sight of her shorn-hair rebellion. It was what he loved most about her when they were younger—her constant need to be thumbing her nose at authority. The passing thought that it would make her a difficult woman to live with flitted across his brain. The hard look in her dark eyes didn’t help. But he sensed her need as if it were a real thing between them. His was just as strong. He cradled her face in his hands, brushed a thumb over her lips.

  His voice sounded rough in his ears, raspy and full of emotion. “Dear God, Vivian. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, or held. How is this possible? You were only a girl.” He sensed her relax, so he pulled her close molding her body into his. It felt more natural than anything, holding her, pressing his lips to hers. When she moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, going up on tiptoe to reach him, Levent’s knees became suddenly unreliable. But he held on, swept into her mouth with his tongue, and prayed to everything he held holy that he would never have to be without her again.

  Her lush breasts pressed against his chest, her tongue met his, and she buried her hands in his hair, as the kiss picked up more energy, taking on a life beyond what Levent felt he could control.

  Control. He reached deep for it, but came up empty-handed, as those very hands ran down Vivian’s back, cupped her bottom and held her tight to his yearning body before roaming back up to grasp the back of her neck. He broke the kiss, as he risked utter explosion otherwise, and ran his lips along her jawline.

  “Please, Levent…I need you….” Her voice broke, and he caught a tear with his tongue.

  “I know. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” His chest clenched at the lie. He was here. But once they walked outside the walls of this ancient building, he would resume the mantle of “servant’s son” and she of “diplomat’s daughter.” It would never work.

  But for now? Levent groaned as she shifted, leaning back against the wall he’d found her standing on. His cock throbbed, pressing against his zipper with an urgency he’d never experienced. Once again, his hands took over. The heat from her nipples blazed against his thumb. The warm flesh in the vee of her shirt begged for his lips so he obliged, licking his way down her long neck, dipping into the indentation between her collarbones and still farther. The luscious curves of her body invited him, compelled him. He knew this was wrong. She deserved more than this grope session in the dark, but he’d be damned if he could stop now.

  “Yes, please.” She begged, her whisper curling inside his lust-addled brain and forcing him further. She stepped back, locking eyes with him, and lifted the shirt over her head, dropping it onto the grass. Levent swallowed and watched as she unhooked her bra and let it join the jumble of fabric at her feet. The moonlight slanted over her body, casting a sheen of white along the small nubs in the middle of those amazing breasts. Levent heard his breathing, harsh and rapid. And hers, coming in gasps as his hand once again took over, cupping the swell of one beautiful globe of flesh, running knuckles over the other, tweaking one hard nipple, then another, making her groan and arch back against the stone wall.

  He had to taste her. His brain tried to engage, to make him hold back. This was wrong on so many levels he couldn’t even begin to count them, but as his mouth sucked one small pink nub between his lips, his body was flooded with her. He sucked first one then the other beautiful nipple between his lips, relishing the moans she made and the way her body angled into his. Dear God he was about to come in his pants like a kid. He groaned and pulled her face to his, diving into her mouth once more as she slowly turned him around, leaning him against the wall. The night swirled around him, making him dizzy and his gut ache with unmet need.

  Before he knew what was happening she’d unzipped his trousers and had him in her small velvety hand. “Oh Levent, please, I must have this.” She kissed him then, using her tongue to show him what she wanted from his body. His hips thrust forward into her grasp, as primal need rushed through him. He wanted this woman. Wanted inside her, all over her, wanted her in every way he could get her. He groaned as she ran her thumb across his head, using the collected moisture to lubricate her grip.

  He clutched her face. “Open your eyes, small one.” His voice was low. “Look at me, now.” She did, and he was shocked to see the blatant lust in her gaze that he knew matched his own. “Are you, have you….” He winced. Did it matter if she had? By Allah he wanted to take her, now, on the grass, and was ready to rut and mount her, own her, like a bloody animal but he had to know.

  “I am yours, Levent. All of me. Take it, take my virginity I want you to.” She leaned in and bit his lower lip, licked down his neck as he fisted his hands in her newly shorn hair. Her hand increased its rhythm.

  Levent called on every single resource of self-control he could muster and put his hand over hers, making her stop before he exploded between them. He brought both her hands to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her, when he realized he simply could not do this to her. “My darling, beautiful girl. I cannot.”

  She took her hands from his, anger clouding her eyes once again. His cock twitched in agony as he tucked it back inside his trousers. Her breasts, pink tipped and ready for his lips, nearly broke his resolve. But he summoned a reserve of strength he didn’t know he had to stop. Before he did something utterly and completely irrevocable to her. It was not the time, or the place. He was a better man than this, and he’d prove it to her.

  “Guzelim, please listen to me.” She turned away, refastening her bra, taking those glorious mounds out of his line of sight, which was undoubtedly a good thing if he were going to maintain his tenuous control. Her lips quivered as she pulled her shirt over her head. He yanked her close, held her as she struggled and cursed him. Ran his hands over her hair, down her back.

  “I hate you, Levent. I fucking hate you. You and my father and all of you. Let go of me! Now!”

  She eluded his embrace, clutched her own elbows and glared at him. His heart sank. “My darling I am only trying to—”

  “My God why don’t you want me? What do I have to do? You didn’t want me all those years ago. You stopped being my friend, just disappeared. Now you…you…kiss me and hold me, and I know damn good and well your body wants me.” She cupped his crotch, which still boasted a fabric tent. “I need you, Levent. I want you. Please?” She stepped into his space, wrapped her small, lush body around his, making him moan with consternation as he kissed her, owned her mouth once more, his hands again roaming into forbidden places. He smelled her lust, the earthy spice of her need, and he nearly threw her down on the grass and had her, but he stopped, looking up at the night sky now lit by a million twinkling dots. Her tears dampened his neck and his shirt as he held her.

  “I am not meant for you, my darling Vivian. And I cannot take fr
om you a most precious gift you can offer a husband. I…won’t.” His soul sank, his heart ached but his brain kicked in, took over. He knew he spoke truth. He would not let his body rule this day.

  “I hate you,” she muttered, as she kept her arms around his waist. They stood like this, her face pressed to his chest, his chin on her head as their bodies cooled and the night wind wrapped around them, binding them, but forcing them apart.

  “You don’t. And I promise you.” He tilted her face up and leaned in to press his lips to her forehead. “I will be something someday. And I will find you. Once I’ve proven myself, I will speak to your father. I will ask for his permission to make you mine.”

  She stepped out of his arms. He felt cold although she was still a foot away from him. Running an arm over her face, she sniffed. “No you won’t. You still think you’re not good enough. And besides you’re too late.”

  His eyebrows knitted into a frown and his skin prickled. “What do you mean, guzelim?”

  “Oh, just can it with the darlings and beautifuls already, Levent, okay?” She walked away from him, but her next words shot an ice cold spear into his soul. “I’m moving to Ankara. After the Marine Ball next weekend. With, oh hell. Why am I telling you anything?”

  It only took two long strides to reach her, to grasp her arm, and turn her to face him. “You are mine,” he growled, surprising himself. She raised an eyebrow. Before he could stop himself, he slanted his mouth over hers, shoved a thigh between hers, yanked her halfway up his body, pressing his still rock hard need against her soft, deliciousness. She met him halfway, and their tongues tangled and teeth clicked as they tried to position themselves for maximum satisfaction.

  “Oh dear God in heaven help me,” he muttered into the skin of her neck. “I refuse to take you here, Vivian, like some sort of homeless peasant on the grass. I will have you, and soon, but—”

  She laughed and stepped away from him. The sound was the opposite of pleasant. It had a hard edge he’d never heard from her. “No, you won’t. Let’s get out of here. I’m glad you stopped. I don’t want you, not anymore.” Her face was a mask of anger tinged with regret.

  He stood back, allowed her to walk away, as everything in him screamed for him to move, to speak, to do something or lose her forever. But she was right. Some things can’t be, and it was fruitless and shameful for him to keep tempting her and stopping. And at that realization, a part of him curled up in the corner and simply died.

  Chapter Six

  Vivian lay on her stomach, a new journal open in front of her on the bed. She bit the end of her pen, frustrated when neither words nor images would come to her. She rolled over and hit the volume of her radio, the scratchy sounds of the Rolling Stones got louder. The same pirate style radio fad that had gripped England had reproduced itself here, as a bunch of Turkish men sat out in the middle of the Bosporus and played edgy music to anyone within a ten mile radius. She usually loved it. The rebellious concept resonated deep in her psyche. But tonight it irritated, represented useless noise that meant nothing.

  It had been a week since the night she’d last seen Levent, the night she’d wanted more than anything for him to fill all the emptiness she’d carried with her since childhood. Her body had ached for him. She’d done everything she knew how to do to prove it to him. But he’d denied her.

  She sighed and put a hand over her eyes. They could be together. She knew it. He was what she wanted, but apparently her father knew what she needed and had conveniently produced him in the form of one Major Ronald Harrison, tonight at the dinner table. He’d made valiant noises about her newly shorn hair. Deflecting her father’s scorn over her action, he’d been very supportive. But she had been in no mood to tolerate either of them. Trying to ignore the small voice that spoke, telling her that Levent may want her but had done the right thing cutting off their encounter last week, she blew out a puff of air, rolled onto her back, and berated herself.

  She truly didn’t want to act spoiled. But from the moment she could remember having a thought, she knew her father dismissed her as a burden—a female he had to support and then pawn onto some other man. She’d found her own happiness, first with Levent as a child until he was taken from her, then as an ignored daughter in her mother’s house. She’d found a few friends, but they had been ripped out of her life when she had to return to this god-forsaken country once again. It simply wasn’t fair.

  She sighed and ran a hand down her breasts, memories of Levent’s eager touch, the huge bulge under his zipper that she’d caressed briefly. Her face flushed and her thighs trembled. Damn him anyway. What was his problem? She was willing to forgo anything her father might provide in the way of approval. But he was so…oh hell. So utterly and completely sexy, so masterful with his lips and hands, and so bloody stubborn.

  His voice permeated her dreams, his laugh, the wicked gleam he’d get in his eyes just before he taught her something dangerous or forbidden all those years ago, it was maddening. She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, willing him out of her head. But he wouldn’t go.

  She glanced over at the expensive formal dress hanging on the dressmaker’s dummy in the corner. It was red, at her insistence, cut classically on the bias with a tight skirt and guaranteed to hug every curvy inch of her to perfection. Turkey was full of stellar dressmakers. Her father had procured one who’d produced one of the most beautiful dresses she’d ever worn. But she didn’t want it. Didn’t want to go to the stupid dance with Ron. Handsome, yes, and polite, and very straight laced, he had tried to grope her a little tonight when her father had left the two of them along in the study after dinner. “Your hair will grow back,” he’d kept reassuring her as if she cared. She’d let him touch her. Why not? It left her cold, but she was ready to unburden herself of virginity. It was obviously something she didn’t need. If the chosen one wanted it, she might just let him have it.

  When the interference noise on the radio became too much to bear, she pushed the whole stupid thing onto the floor. Pacing the room accomplished nothing. Her skin crawled as if covered with ants, her every nerve ending exposed and raw. She’d skipped class for a week, unwilling or unable to risk seeing Levent again. She didn’t trust herself around him anymore. She was either going to throw him down on the floor and make him take her, or she was going to gouge out his beautiful eyes if he told her once more it “wasn’t meant to be.”

  She settled on a bath and yanked the faucets all the way hot. The servant girl came running upstairs at the sound, fresh towels stacked in her arms. Vivian dumped an entire bottle of lavender scented flakes into the large, claw foot tub, pulled her clothes off, and stepped into the steaming water. The girl fussed around, putting out towels, picking up Viv’s clothes, making a huge show of not looking at her.

  “If you have something to say, say it,” Vivian grumbled as she sank deep into the flowery smelling water. Grateful she had enough colloquial Turkish to make her point, she stared at the girl who was blushing and shuffling her feet nervously.

  “Missus, it’s Mister Deniz.”

  Vivian stared at her. “What about him?”

  “He’s been here, a couple of times, asking about you. He is so very rich, and handsome and successful.” The girl’s face got all moony, irritating Vivian to no end.

  “Yes, well maybe he has a crush on you, that’s why he keeps coming around? I know it’s not me he wants. He proved that.”

  The girl frowned at her. “Oh no, missus, he is very much asking about you. He is obviously taken with you. I think it very romantic. And sad, he always looks so sad.”

  “Sit down already, you’re making me nervous.” Vivian didn’t mean to sound bitchy, but the girl obviously wanted to tell her all this. As if it mattered. “I don’t know what to do, honestly. I….” Vivian was alarmed to feel tears slip out of her eyes. She ducked back down under the bubbles, ran her hands across her breasts. Her nipples had hardened at the thought of him. She sighed and slipped a hand between her leg
s, pressing, as if holding something back, needing something she couldn’t identify. The girl sat on the ornate bench positioned at the mirror.

  “You should go to him, missus. We all think so. He’s the son of our beloved Deniz uncle, his parents worked so hard to provide him with money and an education and now he owns several companies, did you know?”

  Vivian yanked her hand up and clutched the edge of the tub. Shook her head, unable to speak. The girl kept talking.

  “Yes, he does. His construction company just got a new contract. He told us yesterday. They are building a large new hotel. And he bought into Imperio Ottomano—the rug and spice company that has twelve different locations and sells to all the tourists and foreigners.” She sighed. Vivian felt a stab of jealousy when she realized this girl had a major crush on the man. But she startled when the young woman spoke next. “You must prepare yourself for as man such as this. Are you clean?”

  Vivian frowned at her. “What do you mean? I’m always clean.”

  “No, missus, you must be clean of all body hair. It is the way of the Ottomans. He would want you that way.”

  Vivian blushed and sank back into the water. When she reemerged, the girl was kneeling by the tub, her dark eyes earnest. She took Vivian’s hand and whispered as if there were anyone within earshot who cared. “I will have the driver take you tomorrow. There is an old woman who works magic with her sugar waxes. Then, you should to the hammam, around the corner. Pray to Allah. Be cleansed and go to him.”

  Vivian’s mind spun. The whole houseful of servants wanted her to be with him? How strange. She stood, stepped out of the tub as the smooth scented water sluiced down her body. The girl toweled her off, lingering over her hardened nipples, running the towel between her legs, studying her with an intensity that made Vivian blush. “You are beautiful. Womanly. You will have much love with him and have many beautiful children. It is destined. I feel it.” She passed her rough hand over Vivian’s stomach, let her fingers trail down into the dark hair below. Vivian bit her lower lip at the girl’s touch. “Allah’s blessings on you, missus.” With those words, she gave a small bow and ducked out the door.