Trapped in His ocean

SHE WAS JUST ANOTHER TOURIST WALKING THROUGH THE SPICE MARKET When he noticed HER THERE. The Spice Market is an ancient market place in Tehran that is well-known for selling spices, dried fruits, and a thousand different kinds of tea. Just another curious traveler, she did have blonde hair, blue eyes, and red jeans that clung to her curves like a second skin. Her eyes were wide open, Not that he had any interest in the matter. It was nothing more than curiosity that kept him watching as the vendor took advantage of her stillness by holding out a plate of his best Iranian delight for her to sample as she lifted her camera to take a photograph of a shop hung with glass lanterns of every imaginable design and color. He slowed his steps as she lifted her camera to take a photograph of a shop that was hung with glass lanterns of every imaginable design and color. She took a hesitant step backwards when she realized that she had not gone unnoticed, murmuring apologies and shaking her head, which caused the messy knot of blond hair at the back of her head and its loose tendrils to dance. However, the plate followed her retreat, and the eyes of the seller joined in his entreaties for her to just have one tiny taste. Nabil's feet shook as he approached the stall that was directly across from him. It wasn't his usual, but he told himself that he was curious, and this shop would do. Nabil placed his order for the dates that he had come to buy for Mehmet, and then he glanced back over his shoulder to see whose will was stronger: the stallholder's or the tourist's. Now that he had her attention, the vendor kept smiling—a toothy smile in a wrinkled face that was as friendly as it was seductive while he proceeded to engage her, picking countries out of the air as they did here, and trying to guess where she was from—America? England? The owner smiled and exuberantly assured her that the Iranian people loved Swedishs as the woman plucked a piece from the plate in front of her and raised it to her lips. It was as if the woman knew when she was beaten and gave in, saying something that he couldn't make out. However, the woman did give in and said something that he couldn't make out. His attention was diverted as he handed over a large note in exchange for his dates and was asked to wait a few moments while someone fetched his change. He was a long way from home when he registered, but he didn't seem to remember much about it. He didn't mind. Having to wait wasn't a problem at all. The traveler had an interesting mouth to look at. As she popped the sweet into her mouth, her lips were luscious and wide, and she was still wearing the hint of a smile on her face. After a short while, her grin was back in full force, her blue eyes were wide with delight, and even though she was surrounded by bright displays of every dried fruit imaginable, every sweetly scented tea, and vats of brightly colored fragrant spices, she still lit up the vaulted marketplace like a lantern. He experienced that grin as a jolt of fire that shook his loins and brought his thoughts back to their primal state. Since then, he hadn't been with a partner in quite some time. It had been quite some time since he had felt himself to be seduced. Now he was being tempted. His eyes swept the area for just the right amount of time to ensure that there was no sign of a companion hiding around, and that there was no sticker on her jacket that indicated a tour group that was close and ready to gobble her up and take her away. She was by herself. If he really wanted her, he could have her. This understanding came to him with the conviction of someone who had been rejected by a woman who was available very infrequently, and who had also been propositioned by a large number of women who were not available. It was not arrogance on their part. Whether you call it history or experience, the fact remains that the odds were in his favor. Nothing more needs to be said. Her face was still animated by a smile as she persisted. She was ready to make a purchase and was already reaching into her bag, making her stand out like a ray of sunshine and splash of color in the midst of a sea of black winter coats and dark headscarves. He had a chance to win her over... And the same unwavering certainty that told him he could take her also gave him the assurance that she would be valuable to him if he did take her. Oh, yes, it would be well worth it to have her. He could imagine himself idly removing the coverings that covered her one at a time in a leisurely manner. Before removing those provocative red jeans from her long legs, she carefully unzipped and peeled away the leather jacket that lovingly cradled her breasts and contoured to her waist. He would then unwind the honey-blond hair behind her head and let it cascade down over her shoulders to curl and whisper against breasts that were plumped and peaked and ready to be taken. What layers were left would be similarly discarded until she was revealed in all of her fair-skinned splendor. Her lips would be moistened, she would grin, and she would reach for him. Her mouth would taste sweet, like the Iranian delight that she had tried, and her blue eyes would be black with heat. He was aware of everything. It was all within his reach, and he could have everything he set his mind to... Then, as if she was aware that she was being observed — almost as if she was aware of what he was thinking — her eyes landed on him. Eyes not just blue, but intensely so, practically the color of lapis lazuli itself, he realized in that moment as her eyes fell on him. As he looked, they became darker, like stone that had been roasted over flame; it was almost as if she recognized him or as if she was responding to him. She blinked her eyes once, and then again after a moment. He watched as her smile gradually faded away, even as the smokey look of recognition appeared in her eyes as they maintained that connection despite being separated by the crowded marketplace. She had just blinked her eyes when the vendor who was standing next to her said something that caught her attention. At that point, she reblinked, but this time she turned away. After a quick shake of her head and wave of her hand, she was practically running away from the market, leaving the dissatisfied vendor wondering how his sale of an item that was already in the bag could have gone so badly wrong. Nabil was given his change and an explanation for why he had to wait with a tap on the shoulder from someone standing behind him. Both were things that he accepted in the same way that he accepted her disappearance. Philosophically. Simply because he had no interest in it. To be honest, no. After all, he had prepared himself to pay Mehmet a visit. A woman wasn't something he was looking for, he reminded himself once more, perhaps feeling a twinge of regret in the process. Especially not one who would flee like a startled rabbit. He left the rabbits to the boys who liked to chase. In his world, the women came to him What the hell had just happened? Nicole Pyne stumbled blindly through the market, past shops with their displays of dried fruits and spices and all manner of bright and beautiful souvenirs, ignoring the calls and the banter from stallholders on either side as she passed. Because everything was fuzzy. Nothing was distinct or clear, the sights and sounds of the market that she’d found so fascinating just minutes ago now all a blur. All because she’d been blindsided by a man with golden skin and whose eyes had burned bright like a brazier at midnight. A man who’d been watching her through those heated eyes. It had been more than any niggling prickle of awareness—it had been a compulsion that had made her turn her head to catch him staring—and she’d felt the gaze from his dark eyes like a rush of heat—a darkly heated wave that had sent a ripple of promise down her spine and collected in a hot swirling pool deep down in her belly. Why had he been watching her? And why had she seen s*x in the dark depths of his eyes? Hot s*x. Jet lag, she thought, searching for logic to lend explanation for the sensation. She was bone weary and operating in a time zone nine hours later than her own. In three hours her body would expect her to be tucked up for the night in her bed back in Stockholm, whereas here in Tehran it was barely time for lunch. No wonder it suddenly felt so crowded in the marketplace. No wonder it suddenly felt so hot. Fresh air was what she needed—to feel the late winter breeze on her skin and let the sea air cool down her heated, clearly travel-weary body. She stepped outside the entrance to the marketplace, removed her scarf and then her jacket, and took several deep breaths of the cool air as it swept away the heat from her body, soothed her shattered nerves, and brought peace to her frantic thoughts. And along with the sense of relief came logical and sensible thought, as well as a small bit of disappointment in herself. When she decided to travel half way around the world to follow in the footsteps of her great grandmother, she made a vow to herself that she would become a powerful and independent lady. Well, that plan didn't work out so well. If she could be frightened by the gaze of only one man, it was clear that the old Nicole was still present. This was the risk-averse version of Nicole who would choose to pursue something less desirable rather than go after what she truly desired. Because it hadn't been jet lag at all. It was him, and the artist's charcoal had been slashed across his face to create the portrait. Him, who possessed such an utmost assurance that he was the owner of the place that he filled, to the point that the air really shimmered around him. She shuddered, but this time it had nothing to do with the cold January weather. She was impulsively, even insanely, missing that brief rush of heat that had warmed her core and made her think of long nights and intense s*x. How could that have taken place in the space of a single instant? In the two years that they had been together, Morgan had never once been able to turn her thoughts to long, steamy s*x with just one heated gaze. This was one of the few things she regretted about their relationship. However, the strange man in the market possessed it. How on earth is something like that even imaginable? But despite this, his eyes had drawn her in; they were fascinating and forceful, and they appeared to communicate to her a dark promise in a way that her body seemed to comprehend immediately — and instinctively respond to. A sinister guarantee that has given rise to sinister musings about a wide variety of illicit delights. It was obvious why she had fled. Because, after all, what did Nicole Pyne even know about things that shouldn't be done? Morgan had not exactly fostered an environment conducive to creative thinking in the bedroom. Or, come to think of it, in any other room you choose. And there were times when he fell asleep next to her, and she would lay there in the dark and wonder if there wasn't anything else. Other times, he would fall asleep beside her. Because there had to be some more, right?