"Yes." He was, he realized, very possessive where his wife was concerned. So possessive that he didn't want to share her with anyone, certainly not with the bitchy crowd that frequented those glamorous parties.
Unfortunately, as if he'd conjured it put of thin air merely by thinking of it, it became impossible to avoid going to one of those very same parties. With their travel plans to Zulheil being rescheduled, they were going to be in town on the date when an illustrious member of the business community was being given an honorary dinner.
"We have to attend," Marc told Hira the night before the dinner, pulling off his shirt. He'd arrived home only an hour ago after an intense day at the office. To his delight, his wife had waited up to have dinner with him. Such a little thing, but it meant so much, coming from the fiercely independent woman Hira was blooming into. "I respect Artie and it'll hurt him if we don't go when he knows we're still in the city."
"That's fine, husband." Hira closed her textbook and put it on the bedside table. "I don't mind attending these functions. It's one of my duties as your wife."
He gave her an exasperated look, trying not to be seduced by the sight of her in that lacy black slip she'd shimmied into. "Do you do everything because they're duties?" He wondered if she'd worn the sexy garment to tempt him, and his heartbeat accelerated. A woman who purposefully dressed to pleasure her husband had to have some feeling for him. Some need.
She thought about it. "No. I lie with you because I wish to. We are together too many times for it to be duty."
Then she gave him a slow, sultry smile. "I wouldn't dress this way for you if it was only duty." A teasing light in her tawny eyes, she shrugged a slender strap off one honey-skinned shoulder. "Oops."
He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. "Hell, I guess I think of these things as duty appearances, too. At least you'll make it bearable." Keeping his eyes on her, he peeled off the rest of his clothing.
She held out her arms. "Come to bed, husband mine."
He walked over, determined to say what he had to before the light of welcome in her eyes reduced him to incoherent passion. "I want to warn you—the crowd at these parties will stab you in the back if they have the slightest indication that you're vulnerable."
"Me? Vulnerable?" She gave an exaggerated sniff. "I am ice, husband."
"I'd forgotten." He stopped by the bed, waiting for her to shift so he could climb in beside her, and begin doing things to her that would leave her drenched in sweat. Pleasing his wife turned him on like nobody's business.
"You're so hot."
Instead of accommodating him, she moved until she was facing his erection. "Hot, hmm?"
His whole body shuddered as she dipped her head and took him to his own private vision of heaven. "Yup, damn hot." Those were the last words he said for a long, long time, because his desert beauty was in the mood to pleasure her husband.
Slowly.
Ten
The party was as he'd expected. Except for a few men and women he respected, the glittering ballroom was full of debutantes who did lunch and slept with other women's husbands, and those same husbands. None of them dared to approach Marc because he wasn't known to be kind to their species, but he noted the way they looked at his wife.
"Stay close," he warned her.
She gave him an amused look. "I can negotiate these waters. I'm used to being talked about."
He nodded. "Don't let them hurt you or I'll have to get mean."
"Yes, sir." Laughter lit her eyes.
Despite her words she did stay close to him for most of the night. Toward the end of the evening she whispered, "I'm going to powder my nose."
He nodded and watched her walk off. Lord, but she was stunning. The other men had been noticing all night.
But, scared off by her ice-queen expression, none of them had had the temerity to approach her. He had to hide a grin. His wife was anything but ice but she could do ice extremely well.
At that, an earlier thought intruded. Underneath her glittering beauty, Hira had been just a little stiff ever since they'd arrived, though on the drive over, she'd been her usual warm self. It was hardly noticeable, but he knew her well enough, had seen her without her shields too many times to be. fooled. The second they were alone, he'd find out what was bothering his wife. And then he'd dedicate himself to soothing her. Smiling, he turned his attention back to the party.
He got caught up in a conversation with the guest of honor for the next ten minutes, and when he looked around for Hira, he couldn't see her. Intuition had him heading out to the hallway, off which the ladies' powder room was located. His eyes narrowed when he saw Lydia walk out of the white-painted door, a smirk on her face.
Her blue eyes lit up when she saw him. "Darling!" She went to kiss him on the cheek. Behind her back, he saw the door reopen and a familiar figure walk through.
Without any hesitancy, he pushed Lydia aside. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He hated being manipulated. Even worse, he hated being used as an instrument to hurt his wife.
Lydia wobbled in her high heels. "But, Marc, our relationship..."
He'd been trying to be gentlemanly, but when he saw Hira's eyes darken in pain, he stopped pulling his punches. "Last time I saw you, you were showing me your breasts and asking if I'd like a taste. I believe I refused and told you to get your tail back to that old man you married. Isn't. That. Right." He made it a command.
Lydia's face went white. "You bastard."
"I may be, but I'm an honest one. Why the hell would you interest me when I've married a woman who outshines you by megawatts?" Walking over, he hauled Hira to him. She came without hesitation. "By the way, if I ever again catch you taunting Hira, I'll ensure that the tape of you propositioning me finds its way into your husband's hands."
"You're lying." Lydia sounded shaky.
"Do you really think I'd trust you an inch?" He turned and looked down at his wife's still face. She'd been hurt by Lydia. Without further words he headed for the exit.
Marc flicked on the light in their bedroom and turned to Hira. She hadn't said a word on the drive home and he hadn't pushed, though his simmering temper had demanded to know everything. Hauling her inside, he locked the door, shutting her in with him.
"Now, you'll tell me every lie that bitch spouted." He crowded her until she was pressed against the wall. Her purse dropped to the floor as he wrapped one hand gently around her nape.
"How do you know they were lies?" Her pulse pounded against his hand, but her tone was defiant, her eyes beginning to burn with inner fire.
"Because Lydia wouldn't know honesty if it bit her."
He crowded her some more until her soft breasts pressed against the jacket of his tux.
"Stop giving me orders," she hissed. "And back off."
"No." His woman had been hurt and he wanted an explanation as to why she'd let that happen.
She blinked at the uncompromising denial. "You are not behaving as American men are supposed to."
"How am I behaving?"
"Like one of the desert chieftains. They're known to be primitive."
"Is that so, cher? Then you'd better start talking. Us primitive types aren't known for our patience." His eyes drifted to the lushness of her lips. Before his civilized side could talk him out of it, he leaned down and kissed her the way he'd been wanting to all night. Pure heat and pure, possession.
Her soft lips parted for him, inviting him into her mouth. He took the invitation and claimed her sweetness. His free hand went to her breast but he didn't like the feel of her sparkly dress against his skin. Without releasing her lips, he pushed the strap down and slipped his hand under the dress to close around one heavy globe.