Читать книгу Royal Weddings - Annie West - Страница 16

CHAPTER SEVEN

TARIQ STOOD, ARM BRACED high against the open window as he stared at the winking stars. The desert night sky glittered, diamond-bright. A soft breeze feathered across his chest and rippled his loose cotton trousers against his thighs. But it did nothing to cool him. Even the plunge in the oasis and a cold shower later hadn’t brought relief from the heat simmering within.

What he needed was a distraction, but the children were in bed and paperwork couldn’t hold his attention. Usually it was no effort to work through the evening. But he’d grown so used to Samira’s presence, he missed it now. This last week he’d spent most of his time with her, getting reacquainted over a game of chess or backgammon, or discussing the boys. But he’d decided an evening apart was a wise precaution.

A mirthless laugh escaped. He’d planned to accustom her to his presence, use every moment of every day to remind her how good they’d be together and how foolish she was to try denying the inevitable.

How that had backfired!

He was the one so needy he all but climbed the walls with wanting. He was the one who couldn’t settle.

He should have made her see reason that first night. Despite her haunted eyes it wouldn’t have taken much to seduce her. She was such a sensual woman he could have overcome her doubts in no time.

Now he was paying the penalty for his scruples.

Tariq shoved aside the half-formed suspicion that mere lust shouldn’t torture him so. After Jasmin, he knew he was incapable of feeling anything more profound for any woman.

He swung away from the window, intending to dress for a night ride across the desert, when a figure emerged from the shadows near the door.

‘Samira!’ Even in the gloom she took his breath away. Her long, pale nightdress shimmered with the lustre of a thousand pearls as it shaped her voluptuous form. Her hair lay loosely plaited over one shoulder, trailing down past her breast, lifting with every breath she took.

Tariq swallowed hard, his eyes travelling from her luscious breasts to her tiny waist and the smooth flare of her hips. She moved and a narrow slit revealed one leg all the way to her thigh. He breathed out gustily, trying to rein in his impulse to reach for her and slam her against his body.

‘Hello, Tariq.’

‘What are you doing here?’ He flexed his fingers, then linked them behind his back, away from temptation.

‘I want to talk with you.’

Tariq shut his eyes, trying to conjure the willpower he needed. She came to his room dressed like that and expected to chat? More and more he wondered just how experienced his bride was in matters of passion.

He’d reached the end of his tether.

‘We can talk tomorrow, Samira. It’s late.’ He strode to the wide bed and dragged back the covers. If that didn’t scare her away, nothing would.

Yet she stood her ground. In the dim light he saw her chin jut.

‘This won’t take long. I know how disrupting a visitor can be just as you’re trying to get to sleep.’

Tariq repressed a grunt of laughter. So this was payback for him walking into her room the night of the wedding? If so she had no idea how disruptive that had been for him. If she knew she wouldn’t have dared venture into the lion’s den.

Deliberately he sat on the side of the bed and gestured for her to do the same, knowing she wouldn’t.

‘Thank you.’ To his amazement, she sat down. Not at the far end of the bed, either, but a prim arm’s length away.

Tariq took one look at the toned thigh peeping out from her satiny gown and dragged his gaze up to her face. She was tense but more than that he couldn’t read in the gloom.

‘I wanted to ask you...’

‘Yes?’ It came out as a growl because inevitably his gaze had dropped again to where she fidgeted with the slit now gaping wide on her thigh. There was only so much temptation a man could withstand.

When she didn’t respond immediately he looked up to see her biting her lip.

‘Yes?’ He managed to sound a little more encouraging.

‘How are you sure we can completely separate sex from...’ she shrugged and spread one arm wide ‘...from anything else? How do you know we can keep sex and love separate?’

Tariq felt his pulse pound hard once, twice. He forced himself to sit back, planting his arms behind him on the bed. As if every cell of his being didn’t clamour for him to reach for her now. If she’d come this far...

‘Bitter experience.’

Her gaze had settled on his chest but now it swung up. ‘Because of those other women? Because none of them have been able to fill the gap your wife left?’

‘Partly.’ The truth was far more difficult and painful. He had no intention of going there. ‘I assure you, Samira, love isn’t something you need fear from me.’ Tariq’s mouth twisted at the irony of his situation. If only she knew. ‘And your experiences have cured you of that too.’

Slowly she nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

‘See? It’s simple when you think it through. You’ve already taken a step to build a better life without it. To think with your head not your heart.’ That was his strength, what he’d been trained to do from birth, eschewing anything that might cloud his judgement. He held out one hand, palm up, on the bed. ‘I admire your courage in learning from your mistake and reaching out for what you really want.’

For long seconds she contemplated his outstretched hand. Then, just as his patience frayed, she laid her palm on his. It was delicate and soft, but not weak. He smiled as he folded his fingers around hers.

She was his. Just as he’d planned.

Victory tasted sweet in his mouth. But not as sweet as Samira would be. Already he was salivating, anticipating pleasures to come. He stroked his thumb from her palm up to the pulse point at her wrist and she shivered delicately, her nipples peaking against the clinging nightdress.

‘You expect a woman to reach out and take what she wants?’ There was a delightful breathless hitch to her voice that awoke a visceral possessiveness in Tariq.

He’d wanted Samira so long. Since the year she’d turned seventeen. Instead of abating, his hunger had intensified with each passing year, torturing him. At first Samira had been untouchable because of her youth and innocence, because of who she was, because their paths lay in different directions. Yet now, against the odds, here she was, his wife.

‘Why not?’ His voice emerged as a low rumble. ‘It’s what I’d do.’

His words hung in still air. Then a warm palm planted itself on his chest, fingers splaying as she leaned close. Tariq’s breathing faltered. He felt the imprint of her hand right down into what passed for his soul. For a fleeting instant doubt hammered him, the remembrance of all he couldn’t offer her.

Then her fingers moved, learning the shape of his body, and doubt fled.

This time it was simple attraction, he assured himself, heady with relief and anticipation. There would be no painful emotional complications.

This time it would be okay.

The knowledge reassured him and fed his arousal.

His eyelids lowered as he fought to rein in rampant hunger to a level that wouldn’t panic her. His need was so profound.

‘I want you, Tariq.’ She whispered the words against his collarbone, pressing a kiss to his burning skin, then another and another, working her way in towards his throat, her mouth soft and hot.

Tariq arched back his head, exhaling with relief and shuddering anticipation. He grabbed her shoulders and with one surging movement hauled her onto his lap, groaning as her satin-clad bounty pressed against him. Her taut backside was on his thighs, his erection nudging her hip, the glorious weight of one full breast in his hand.

Was ever a woman created with the sole purpose of driving a man crazy?

He was near explosion point and they were still dressed. He hadn’t felt such urgency since he’d fumbled with his first woman.

Tariq dragged in a breath that smelt of sugary cinnamon with a hint of musk. Sex and Samira, a heady combination.

His mouth found her shoulder and he bit down on the spot that curved up to her neck, knowing how sensitive it would be. The taste of her in his mouth was as heady as he remembered.

She gasped, twisting closer, her breasts thrusting, her buttocks sliding across his legs. The friction of her hip against his shaft was excruciating pleasure. So was the knowledge that Samira was as aroused as he. She trembled all over as if sensitised to the very weight of the air against her body.

Tariq smiled and sucked gently at the spot he’d nipped. She grabbed his shoulders, fingers digging hard, her breath a low moan that was music in his ears.

‘I told you I could make it good for you, Samira.’

But she was past answering. He wasn’t even sure she’d heard. Her eyes were slits and her breath came in little pants as she shifted restlessly against him.

To hell with it. Foreplay could wait till the next time. This thing between them was too urgent, too elemental, for games.

He grabbed her waist, the silky material on her delicious body too flagrantly appealing. With a surge of energy he lifted her up to face him, the muscles in his arms locking hard to support her.

‘Move your leg over mine,’ he growled.

Her eyes opened, looking directly into his, and Tariq felt the impact of her stare thwack him in the chest. He read dazed confusion and a desperation that matched his own.

His arms shook as he lowered her gently onto his lap, pulling her close so her thighs wrapped around his hips. He struggled to breathe in, but the sensation of her heated core hard up against him was almost too much. He gritted his teeth, praying he had the stamina to last.

His hands slipped up her thighs and he found the lace-edged slit on one. Instantly his fingers were under the material, questing over skin every bit as enticing as the delicate, slippery fabric.

She shifted, rising clumsily on her knees, and somehow the silk ripped as his hand plunged higher.

‘Sorry.’

For answer she shifted her weight onto one knee, then the other, dragging the material out from under her legs, clearing the way for him. By the time she’d done that he’d yanked open his trousers, freeing himself from the folds of fine cotton.

As she sat back down, Samira gasped and shuddered, her silk-clad breasts exquisitely arousing against his bare torso. Flesh on flesh, heat on heat...the sensations were exquisite torture. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her still against his recklessly pulsing heart.

Did he imagine a flicker of something like anxiety cross her taut features? It couldn’t be. It was too late for second thoughts. Yet some part of his almost numbed brain still worked. To his amazement he found himself asking, ‘You’re sure?’

‘Absolutely.’ Her voice was that of a temptress, throaty and low. She speared her hands through his hair, clamping his head as she brought her lips to his. Sweet as wild honey, delicious as ambrosia. That was Samira. He plunged into her mouth, demanding complete submission. Elation filled him at her unstinting response. Yet even that wasn’t enough.

He let one hand trawl high to the soft hair at the apex of her thighs. It was damp and she jerked at the fleeting brush of his hand. He circled back and she tilted her pelvis greedily, inviting.

An instant later, hands bracing her hips, he lifted her bodily, not breaking their kiss, and positioned her over his erection. She sighed against his lips as he drew her slowly down.

Tariq felt his brain fog, every part of him focused on the sensation of slick pressure as Samira bore slowly down on him. Had there ever been a moment like this? So tight, so perfect, so right?

The taste of her in his mouth, her scent filling his nostrils, the feel of her surrounding him... He shuddered, already too close to the brink.

He devoured her with a marauder’s kiss, angling his body higher against hers till she took him all, and ecstasy hovered on the edge of his consciousness.

Samira moaned into his mouth and he swallowed her pleasure, the sound of it rushing through him in fiery trails.

Not yet. Not yet. He wasn’t ready to relinquish this.

But there was no holding back. Already he was lifting her high, supporting her as she finally found the rhythm they both needed. Tariq tilted his hips and stroked deep as she returned to him then rose, riding him harder, drawing him in as far as she could.

Fire flashed and her hands grabbed tighter, her movements growing jerky. His blood sizzled, his skin tingling, every sinew and tendon straining as he felt the first ripple of her pleasure drawing him closer to the edge. The ripples became shudders; the synchronicity of their bodies grew staccato, almost out of rhythm. Samira tugged her mouth away, gasping his name as she shattered around him. He’d never heard anything so beautiful.

With a last, desperate surge Tariq powered up hard, touching heaven and spilling himself in spasms of bliss.

A lifetime later he came back to himself. He held Samira tight in his arms: warm and sumptuous. Her thighs locked around him, her body trembling, each movement teasing him with agonised delight.

Tariq breathed slowly, filling burning lungs. His brain still swam. He felt dazed, as if he’d passed through some mysterious rite of passage.

He frowned, unsettled at the way something at once familiar could feel so extraordinary.

Samira snuggled closer, her breathing muffled in his collarbone, wetness smearing his shoulder.

‘Samira?’ He wouldn’t have known his own voice. It was a hoarse, unfamiliar rasp. ‘Are you crying?’ Dismay rose at the suspicion that glorious, white-hot sex had turned to something else. Something fraught with female emotion.

She shook her head. The movement brushed her breasts against his chest and Tariq sucked in his breath as pleasure stirred anew.

‘It’s just a little overwhelming.’

‘Good overwhelming?’ He found himself soothing her back with gentle, circular strokes.

‘Fantastic overwhelming.’ She sniffed and blinked, her wet eyelashes spiky against him. ‘I’ve never done it like that before.’ Her head tipped up and huge, soft eyes met his. He knew an insane urge to fall into those glowing depths and lose himself for ever. ‘Is that why it was so amazing?’

Tariq felt his eyes widen. She’d never had sex astride a man? It was hardly adventurous sex. Hastily he began revising his assumptions about her level of experience. It seemed that her famous ex-lover, despite his notoriety, had left Samira remarkably inexperienced.

Tariq couldn’t stop his hands from skimming up her sides to brush the edges of her breasts. Her jump of pleasure and her startled stare, as if surprised at her body’s response, told its own story.

‘No, that’s not why it was amazing. It’s just us, Samira. The chemistry between us.’

And the fact that she’d been in his blood for over a decade. No wonder his orgasm had been so explosive.

He felt the sudden tension in her and knew at once she was second-guessing the implications.

‘Good sex is like that, Samira. It’s nothing to fret over.’

Finally Samira dropped her head onto his shoulder, slumping sated against him. He rested his chin on her head, feeling the tickle of her hair, the softness of her body against him, her tight, enticing heat.

And as easily as that he was ready again, heavy with arousal, deep inside her.

Samira’s indrawn breath said it all.

Shock hammered him even as he moved tentatively, wresting a sigh and a little shiver of pleasure from her. Her lips pressed to his shoulder, her tongue swiping his damp flesh.

In all these years he’d never wanted any woman as much as he wanted Samira.

Nothing in his past compared with his passion for her.

Tariq swallowed an iron-hard knot of guilt but couldn’t dispel the shame in his belly or the burn of desire.

He’d never wanted Jasmin like this.

That was significant enough.

But it was more than that. The truth stripped him of honour, eating into his corroded soul.

He felt more for Samira after a week than he’d felt for his first wife after four years of marriage.

What kind of man was he?