rush that shook her body in giant spasms of delight, each one like a wave cresting through her.
His release followed on the tail end of hers. She felt each erotic shudder, heard his guttural groan as he emptied. She held him to her, reluctant to break the connection before all the sensations had subsided. His head was buried beside her neck, his warm breath caressing her skin, his chest rising and falling on hers.
He finally eased back on his elbows to look down at her. ‘No regrets?’
Juliet touched her fingertips to the sculptured perfection of his mouth. ‘None whatsoever. You?’
He nibbled at her fingers, his eyes holding hers. ‘So, you want the left side of the bed, right?’
She smiled as she traced a line down the length of his nose. ‘Am I going to have to wrestle with you for it?’
He gave her a wickedly sexy grin that made her spine loosen. ‘What do you think?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
J ULIET HAD BEEN awake for an hour, watching Marcus sleep beside her, when he suddenly jolted upright with a short, sharp expletive. He threw off the covers and leapt out of bed. ‘What time is it? What day is it?’
‘It’s seven-thirty on Saturday.’
He rubbed a hand down his face. ‘I had a dream. A nightmare.’
She sat up and hugged the sheet around her knees. ‘What was it about?’
He raked a hand through his sleep tousled jet-black hair. ‘I dreamed I missed the meeting. I got the day wrong. I turned up on the wrong day.’ He shook his head and gave a relieved sounding laugh. ‘It was just a dream.’
Juliet rested her chin on the top of her knees. ‘Why is this project so important to you? It’s not as though it’s the biggest project you’ve done. Surely the sheikh’s was bigger?’
He sat on the edge of the bed next to her. ‘It’s not the size of the project.’ He trailed a fingertip down her arm from her shoulder to her wrist, making her skin lift in a shiver of reaction. ‘You know that Biblical saying about a prophet not being welcome in their own country?’
Juliet looked into his dark blue eyes; she saw the determination there, the drive and steely ambition. He was so centred and focussed. Goal-oriented. She had always admired that about him. He worked hard and didn’t allow anything to distract him from his mission. ‘You want this more than anything, don’t you?’
He took her hand and turned it over in his, stroking her palm with the broad pad of his thumb in a slow caress that triggered a hot spurt of longing deep in her pelvis. ‘The Chatsfields are one of Britain’s richest families. To design a yacht for them would open lots of doors for me here and abroad.’
Juliet touched his stubbly face with her hand. ‘Why do you push yourself so hard?’
He held her hand to his face by covering it with his own. ‘You already know the answer to that.’
‘Because you don’t want to be labelled a layabout aristocrat like your father.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘There you go. A direct quote from one of the tabloids.’
She studied his expression for a moment. ‘Where do you go after here? Back to Dubai?’
He stood and ploughed his hand back through his hair. ‘Let’s not have this conversation right now, okay?’
Juliet pinched her lips together. Fool. Why did you spoil it all? ‘I’m sorry.’
He let out a harsh sounding breath. ‘I knew this would be a mistake. Sex blurs the boundaries too much. I wish I’d never—’
‘Don’t say it.’ She stared at her knees. ‘No regrets, okay? This is just for the weekend. I know that. I’m okay with that.’ No, I’m not!
He came back over to the bed, sat beside her and turned her face towards him with the tip of his finger beneath her chin. ‘Are you sure?’
Juliet ignored the tight spasm of pain in her chest. His eyes were so dark they reminded her of deep outer space—infinite and unreachable. ‘It’s my fault we’re in this situation and I accept full responsibility for it, but don’t worry,
His release followed on the tail end of hers. She felt each erotic shudder, heard his guttural groan as he emptied. She held him to her, reluctant to break the connection before all the sensations had subsided. His head was buried beside her neck, his warm breath caressing her skin, his chest rising and falling on hers.
He finally eased back on his elbows to look down at her. ‘No regrets?’
Juliet touched her fingertips to the sculptured perfection of his mouth. ‘None whatsoever. You?’
He nibbled at her fingers, his eyes holding hers. ‘So, you want the left side of the bed, right?’
She smiled as she traced a line down the length of his nose. ‘Am I going to have to wrestle with you for it?’
He gave her a wickedly sexy grin that made her spine loosen. ‘What do you think?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
J ULIET HAD BEEN awake for an hour, watching Marcus sleep beside her, when he suddenly jolted upright with a short, sharp expletive. He threw off the covers and leapt out of bed. ‘What time is it? What day is it?’
‘It’s seven-thirty on Saturday.’
He rubbed a hand down his face. ‘I had a dream. A nightmare.’
She sat up and hugged the sheet around her knees. ‘What was it about?’
He raked a hand through his sleep tousled jet-black hair. ‘I dreamed I missed the meeting. I got the day wrong. I turned up on the wrong day.’ He shook his head and gave a relieved sounding laugh. ‘It was just a dream.’
Juliet rested her chin on the top of her knees. ‘Why is this project so important to you? It’s not as though it’s the biggest project you’ve done. Surely the sheikh’s was bigger?’
He sat on the edge of the bed next to her. ‘It’s not the size of the project.’ He trailed a fingertip down her arm from her shoulder to her wrist, making her skin lift in a shiver of reaction. ‘You know that Biblical saying about a prophet not being welcome in their own country?’
Juliet looked into his dark blue eyes; she saw the determination there, the drive and steely ambition. He was so centred and focussed. Goal-oriented. She had always admired that about him. He worked hard and didn’t allow anything to distract him from his mission. ‘You want this more than anything, don’t you?’
He took her hand and turned it over in his, stroking her palm with the broad pad of his thumb in a slow caress that triggered a hot spurt of longing deep in her pelvis. ‘The Chatsfields are one of Britain’s richest families. To design a yacht for them would open lots of doors for me here and abroad.’
Juliet touched his stubbly face with her hand. ‘Why do you push yourself so hard?’
He held her hand to his face by covering it with his own. ‘You already know the answer to that.’
‘Because you don’t want to be labelled a layabout aristocrat like your father.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘There you go. A direct quote from one of the tabloids.’
She studied his expression for a moment. ‘Where do you go after here? Back to Dubai?’
He stood and ploughed his hand back through his hair. ‘Let’s not have this conversation right now, okay?’
Juliet pinched her lips together. Fool. Why did you spoil it all? ‘I’m sorry.’
He let out a harsh sounding breath. ‘I knew this would be a mistake. Sex blurs the boundaries too much. I wish I’d never—’
‘Don’t say it.’ She stared at her knees. ‘No regrets, okay? This is just for the weekend. I know that. I’m okay with that.’ No, I’m not!
He came back over to the bed, sat beside her and turned her face towards him with the tip of his finger beneath her chin. ‘Are you sure?’
Juliet ignored the tight spasm of pain in her chest. His eyes were so dark they reminded her of deep outer space—infinite and unreachable. ‘It’s my fault we’re in this situation and I accept full responsibility for it, but don’t worry,
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