Bollywood and the Beast (Bollywood Confidential) (20 page)

Her eyes flashed. “So you presented yourself as a volunteer to find me?
Ah-ha
,
ki
generous,” she dismissed, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

A sudden smile tempered the righteous indignation—and all the other emotions— coursing through his system. Unlike Trish Chaudhury, who’d grown up a Bombay girl and fired off Hindi like a weapon, Bengali was still Priya’s default. During the shooting of their one and only film together as actors, he’d constantly marveled at how she switched between three languages. He’d marveled at
everything
about her.

She was no less marvelous now, with her hair loosed, face clean of makeup and sparkles, dressed in a simple ankle-length nightgown. She didn’t look like the soft, baby-doll nineteen-year-old he remembered, but neither was she the seductive item girl who’d brought nearly every man on the set this morning to instant erection. She was something else. Something new. But his wanting…that hadn’t changed one bit. It still tasted sharp and young and reckless.

It was that recklessness that prompted him to remind her, “There was a time you didn’t mind my brand of generosity.”

Priya recoiled, shutting the door and pressing up against it. And then she looked to her vodka. “
This
is my brand tonight.”

“Oh, really? I can guarantee it doesn’t taste as good as a kiss.”

She was well within her rights to strike him for his boldness. Instead, she tipped back the bottle, draining the last of the small measure of booze. She made a show of licking her wet lips. “No need, Rahul.
Yeh kafi hain.
This is enough.”

The hell it was. He crossed to her, plucking the tiny glass bottle from her fingers and tossing it aside. “Liar. It’s not enough for you, and it’s certainly not enough for me.”

There had been others in his life over the years. Even a brief engagement arranged by his father. But the prospect of bedding sweet Rashmi on their
suhaag raat
had turned his stomach. He’d been one girl’s first—God, and his arrogance, willing, her
only
—how could he be another’s? He’d cried off before the wedding cards could be printed. Every good memory he had of love was wrapped up in the woman before him. So how could he not wrap her in his arms?

Here, too, she should have slapped him, but Priya didn’t move. Pale faced, her beautiful brown eyes huge with surprise…it was as though he’d embraced a statue. A warm, soft, breathing statue. Minutes seemed to tick by before she reacted. And when she did, it was with a single, barely audible, word: “Yes.”

“‘Yes’ what, Pree?”

“To what you came for.” This was louder, but still remote. Almost mechanical. “That is why you’re here,
na
? To take me to bed?”

Yes. No. Definitely yes.
He could lie to her. Lie to the world. But not to himself. Till his dying day, he would want her. Rahul reached out, stroking a wild strand of her hair before tucking it behind her ear. “I don’t want to
take
, Priya. I want to
share
.”

She wasn’t quite unresponsive when he kissed her. More…
unmoved
. Holding herself back, away, as if she was only humoring him. “
Nahin
, Priya,” he chided against the curl of her lips. “Don’t invite me and also reject me.”

“I didn’t invite. I accepted the inevitable. Big difference
hain
.” She showed him the details of such difference then, leaning in and returning his kiss. Here was her emotion: her fury, her resentment, her
missing him
. It was in the vodka-sharp taste of her mouth and the insistent attack of her equally bladed tongue. She raged, clawing at him, saying all the things with her kisses that she was still too sweet to speak aloud.

Rahul groaned, sweeping her up into his arms. It was a short trip to her bed and an even shorter fall to nirvana. Tugging up her gown, undoing his jeans, remembering to rescue the condom from his wallet. He kissed everything he could reach, committed to memory the altered plains of her body. There were straight lines where once there had been curves, ridges of muscle where there’d once been rolling hills. But he didn’t dare linger. Not when her favor clung as tentatively as her hands to his shoulders.

Thankfully, her body was more forgiving. She was slick and hot and ready, and they joined too fast, too hard…too in tune for a pair who hadn’t said so much as
namaste
in six years. She panted his name against his ear: harsh, erotic gasps. He cradled the points of her hips, rocking into her as deep as he could go. Not an invite, she’d said, just the inevitable. And, inevitably, it was over when it felt like it had just barely begun. Ten, fifteen, minutes crunched into a haze that seemed like mere seconds.

“Baby, I missed you so much,” he confessed as he collapsed into her…only to find that the gates were shut once more. She was utterly still, devoid of any passion—passion he
knew
she’d shared. There was no warmth to be found, no shelter after the storm. Still, he knocked. Thrice gently against the cage of her ribs. “Pree, let me in. Please,
jaan
.”

“Never. Never again.” She slid out from beneath him. As if the very rub of his skin was a trespass. “Get out,” she whispered, clutching the sheets to her chest. “
Jao
. I never want to see you.”

He tried to touch her, to stroke the sweat damp silk of her shoulder, her throat, but she jerked away. Something shifted in the pit of his belly, and his breath caught in his lungs. So this was how it was going to be: a dirty little secret. Something she could condemn, deny and then forget. Rahul zipped and buttoned his jeans and then climbed, slowly, from the bed. Only when he was fully armored against the coldness of her eyes, did he trust himself to speak. “
Nahin
, Priya. Too bad and too late. You
will
see me again.”

She would see him again…and she would
love
him again. It was all he’d ever
wanted, and if he could not accomplish it in one night…he had eternity stretched ahead of them. Forever was a long time—just long enough for success.

She is the one dream that never had a chance to come true…until now

Exhale

© 2013 Dakota Harrison

Takeshi is finishing up a brutal double shift in the ER when a familiar—and bloody—face erases all thought of heading home. The broken body of the woman fighting for her life belongs to Gabby, his best friend’s mother. A woman he has rarely seen since he turned nineteen and foolishly declared his love for her.

She’s not dying today. Not on his watch. And not with a promise left unfulfilled.

Gabby has never forgotten the taste of the kiss Taka gave her under the mistletoe all those years ago. Or the silly promise that surely by now he’s forgotten. She’s wrong. Taka remembers. And she melts as he uses every trick in his highly trained surgeon’s hands to heal her—and rekindle the heat between them.

But there’s a secret lurking in Gabby’s past. And when it follows her all the way to Seattle, it threatens to drag the one man she loves into the nightmare she thought she’d left behind.

Warning: Contains a reluctant cougar heroine with a planeload of emotional baggage, a hot Asian surgeon who knows how to kiss it and make it better, and smoking hot love scenes that’ll give you a new appreciation for the tenacity of younger men.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Exhale:

Gabby threw her keys down on the hall stand.

Lights blazed, welcoming her home. There was nothing worse than coming home to a dark house—it was so mournful. She kicked off her boots and padded through to the kitchen. Her jeans swished faintly on the timber flooring as she walked, the soft sound oddly reassuring. They were always a little too long when she bought them.

She flicked on the kettle and waited for it to boil.

The movie had been great. A nice little romantic comedy, the type that she could never seem to get Matt to agree to see.

She’d checked on them all only minutes ago. They hadn’t noticed her stick her head through the door and look around. Some had been dancing, some were already asleep in their sleeping bags, but most were still bouncing around having fun. So, she had decided to come up to the house and settle down in bed with a good book.

Untwisting her hair from the ponytail she’d forced it into, she dropped the heavy mass and rotated her head a few times to try and loosen up the kinks in her neck. She always came out of that cinema with a stiff neck. The seats were so old they must have been around with the dinosaurs.

The faint click of the kitchen door caught her attention. The smooth, firm line of Taka’s back muscles played under his tight-fitting tee shirt as he closed it. He looked at her and smiled.

“Past your bedtime?” She glanced at the clock. It was only two a.m.

He grinned nervously at her, a strange expression shadowing past his eyes. Gabby looked closer. What on earth had him nervous?

“Nope. I just wanted to catch you before you went to bed. You have a sore neck?” He motioned at her hand where she was rubbing at the base of her head.

Gabby pulled a face. “Mmm, yeah. Those seats at the Palace are a little on the old side.”

“Here. Let me.”

He walked over and turned her around by the shoulders. His long fingers shifted her hair and draped it over one shoulder, then gently cupped her head to tilt it forward. “Hold still.”

Taka leaned her body back into his, kneading the tense muscles of her neck. She sagged bonelessly back into him as he worked his fingers up her neck into her hair.

“Mmm… Oh, that’s real good,” she mumbled, chills running the length of her spine.

His hands worked their way up and down her neck to her shoulders and back again. A soft moan of pleasure wound its way from her throat. She heard Taka’s sharp intake of breath and his hands stilled.

“Please don’t stop.”

Goose bumps erupted down her back and legs as his hands went below her shoulders. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck, his forehead pressing against her hair. His hands massaged down to the flare of her hips, then one hand reached around her waist to stroke up to her ribs.

It felt so good that Gabby couldn’t think straight. His other hand reached up the side of her neck under her hair and started to massage her head above her ear.

She tilted her head into the sensation, the exquisite chills from his touch on her skin causing her to shiver. She vaguely felt his head move, then the touch of his warm lips pressed against the tender skin of her neck.

His mouth skimmed over her skin up to her exposed ear. The sensation of his lips, barely touching her, tore a whimper from her throat. An answering sound worked its way out of Taka, sending shockwaves spiraling down her legs, leaching the strength from her knees.

Gabby reached up and worked her fingers into his hair as his mouth made full contact with her neck. His hand slipped beneath her shirt and up under her breast as he started kissing her neck and jaw openmouthed.

“Taka, what are you doing?” Her voice was a coarse whisper in the silent room. She felt his smile curve against her neck.

“I thought that would be obvious,
Marishaten
.”

Taka’s hand moved higher to cup her breast. His fingers massaged her through her lacey bra as he drew his thumb over her taut nipple.

Her back arched into the sensation his hand was creating. Her head fell back against his shoulder, pushing her breast harder into his hand. Her moan of pleasure sounded loud, even to her. She couldn’t control her reaction to him. She fought hard to think through the molasses that had drowned her brain. His touch was so damned nice, and she hadn’t been touched in so long.

Something tried to screech at her through the fog in her head.

This shouldn’t be happening.

“Takeshi, no. We can’t.”

His teeth nipped at the underside of her jaw then back toward her ear. She couldn’t remember for the life of her what she was trying to say.

“Why not? Don’t you like it?” he whispered, his hot breath scorching her skin where it trailed behind his kisses.

Gabby pushed her hand up under his jaw to push his delicious mouth away from her so she could think. She turned to face him and stepped back, her breath heaving, as she tried to gain some perspective. Being so close made it too hard.

She stared into his eyes
. So beautiful
. His desire for her was written all over his face. That kiss at Christmas hadn’t been a fluke after all.

Taka lifted his hand to her face. Her eyes closed as he rubbed his thumb over her cheek.

“Oh, Takeshi. I’d have to be dead not to like it. But—”

His thumb pressed against her lips, stopping her mid-sentence.

“No buts.” He moved closer, his lips a whisper above hers. “I want you. So much.”

He ran his hand up into her hair, his long fingers kneading her scalp. Her head fell back, exposing her neck to his mouth. The heat from his lips burnt her very soul as they grazed her skin again.

“You’re too young. We can’t do this. It’s not right.” She could barely speak through the exquisite reaction her traitorous body was having to him.

“We’re both consenting adults. What’s not right?” His muffled words rumbled against her hot skin. He tore his mouth from her neck, his black gaze burning through her. “Do you want me?”