Читать книгу The Chatsfield: Series 2 - Эбби Грин, Кейт Хьюит - Страница 19
ОглавлениеBY THE TIME the light of dawn broke through the edges of the tent door, Zayn had already been awake for hours. He was holding Sophie in his arms, warm, soft and bare, her skin pressed against his. Satisfaction flowed through his veins like warm honey, but then it hardened, turned bitter, as it mixed with the realization of what he had done.
Sophie did not deserve this. She did not deserve to have her virginity taken in a tent, in the middle of the desert, by a man who would have to ignore her when they returned to real life. She did not deserve to be the conduit by which he expended his frustrations. He had reached a breaking point, and it would’ve been far better for him to stand out in the rain and let it wash over him until he was numb again. Until he remembered who he was. And what his responsibilities were.
But she had been there, she had been there saying the things he wanted to hear, offering him the things he wanted most. And she had told him to pretend as though the rest of the world didn’t exist, and he had been far too eager to refuse.
And then, rather than distancing himself the moment he realized his mistake, he had pulled her into his arms, granting them an extension. Granting himself an extension.
Were his spot in hell not already well assured, and likely well appointed in preparation for his arrival, a space would certainly be reserved now.
Where was his sense of duty now? Where was the honor in taking advantage of an innocent woman and using her to sate his own lust? There was none. Because while Sophie might have believed she knew what she wanted, she had no real way of knowing. A virgin had no way of knowing the ways sex might affect her emotionally. And he had suspected as much, especially given what she had told him about the kiss. Her one and only kiss, with one man. He had known what that meant, but he had chosen to ignore it. And when he had decided to ask her about it, at the worst moment possible, after turning back was impossible, he had known what her immediate deflection had meant. Still he had ignored it. Because of what he had wanted.
It was his greatest fear realized. That he had not changed at all. That he was still the same selfish, spoiled boy he had always been. The years of adhering to a code of honor could be undone by lust that was just strong enough.
A moment that his selfishness could not transcend.
He sat up, pushing his hands through his hair, looking down at the woman sleeping next to him. She moaned, and rolled over onto her side, drawing her knees up to her chest. She looked so young, so vulnerable. And he felt even more like an ass than he had only a few seconds ago.
He stood, as straight as he could in the tent, and found his pants, which were crumpled on the floor. They were wet, still, and he probably deserved that. He pulled them on quickly, and went outside.
The sun was up now, the sky clear. The roads below looked like they had dried. They had no excuse to linger here. And indeed, they should not. He would only do more damage out here away from reality. He had managed to trick himself, but he would do it no more.
He looked back at the tent and cursed. He would still have to go in there and face her, would still have to see her all rumpled, naked, and deal with all of the heady memories from last night. How wonderful it had felt to be inside of her, to be skin to skin with her.
He went to the SUV and opened the back, pulling out their bags and slamming the tailgate shut. He hefted both bags over his shoulder, and went back to the tent. When he opened the flap, Sophie was stirring, the blankets pulled up over her breasts, her shoulders bare.
She blinked sleepily and scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. She was everything fresh and sweet, perfect. Everything he had no right to touch. No right to ruin.
“Good morning.” He dropped both bags on the floor of the tent. “The weather is nice, so we should have no difficulty getting back into the city.”
She blinked more rapidly, trying to focus on him, squinting at the light that was filtering through the opening of the tent. “Oh.” She shifted, holding tightly to the blankets. “It is morning.” She looked like she was thinking deeply about something, and it disturbed him. Made something ache in his chest.
“I can wait outside while you get dressed if you like.”
She nodded wordlessly and he turned away from her, taking the bag that contained his clothes with him, walking back outside. He took in a deep breath of air. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing when he’d seen her. But now his lungs burned. He dressed quickly, out in the open, discarding the damp pants and trading them for a dry pair, and a T-shirt.
He waited a few moments, then went back to the tent, throwing the flap aside. She was dressed in a loose-fitting top and a pair of linen pants, sitting in the nest of blankets they had used as a bed the night before. She was looking at him, the expression on her face expectant, but of what he had no idea. He didn’t know what she wanted from him, because the reality of what was possible in the fantasy that had been last night created a gulf between them that was so wide it could not be crossed.
There was no way to bring any of it back with them. There was no way to keep pieces of it, keep it hidden. Keep it going.
It was a clean break here, and there was no other option.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head, looking away from him.
“Then we will leave soon.” She didn’t rise from where she was nestled in the blankets. “And you will have to be out of the tent, so that I can dismantle it.”
“Is it cold outside?” she asked, not looking at him still.
“It is not cold.”
She sniffed, drawing her knees up to her chest. “I don’t like being cold.”
“Well, you will not be cold.”
She looked up at him, and stood slowly. “I had better not be.” Then she walked past him, her head held high, her chin pointed upward. She looked like a little sheikha, all haughty and defensive. And it made him want to kiss her lips until she was no longer pursing them. Until she was soft, until she was pliant and ready for him again. But he had no right to do that. None at all. It should not have happened last night, and it could not happen again.
* * *
Sophie held herself together as she waited outside the tent while Zayn took it down. She held herself together on the drive back to the palace. She held herself together until she was safely in the privacy of her own room. And then she wept. Great gasping sobs that seemed to come endlessly. And when she was done, she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up, curling into a ball. She felt miserable. She felt changed.
Last night everything had made sense. It felt so amazing. But when they had come down the mountain she had failed to collect her armor. It was lost somewhere out there in the middle of the desert, and she did not know if she would ever be able to retrieve it.
But it was over now, that much was clear. Zayn had made that clear when he’d gone cold on her this morning. And it was for the best. Because it could not go on. Because they could not go on.
He was marrying another woman.
The thought sent a stab of pain straight through her chest. She should never have touched him. She didn’t have the right.
She looked up at the ceiling, tears sliding down toward her temple, disappearing down into her hairline.
Unfortunately, though she knew she’d had no right to touch him, it didn’t change the fact that she was afraid she might have fallen in love with him.
She had no idea how that had happened. It had something to do with the fact that he had managed to get beneath her protection, that he was the first person to ever reach beneath all the layers she had built up around herself. He had touched her heart. And once that had happened she never had a chance.
She loved this man who wanted nothing more than to serve those around him. Who had taken a tragedy and allowed it to turn and twist inside of him until it had wrapped itself around him like tree roots until they had taken control over him, worked their way in so deep they couldn’t be extracted. Until they had changed who he was, controlled him in every way.
She had worked all of her life for recognition, for validation. While he gave everything in the service of his family, in the service of his country. How could she not be changed by knowing him? How could she not love him?
And yet, she would have to figure out a way not to love him. Because she would be leaving here soon and when she did she would need to leave these feelings behind, too.
No matter how difficult it was.
* * *
Sophie successfully avoided Zayn for the next few days. She busied herself writing up an article detailing what she had learned so far about Surhaadi and its culture. She couldn’t bring herself to write about his personal tragedy. Couldn’t bring herself to write about Zayn at all. Because she had a feeling that every word would bleed with her love for him, and that it would be obvious to anyone who saw it. And while she was exposing herself a bit more lately than she had ever done before, that was a step too far.
Part of her had hoped that Zayn would end the silence between them. That part of her was foolish, and she acknowledged that, but it didn’t stop her from wishing he might.
She stood up from her computer and rubbed her fingertips over her forehead, trying to smooth out the lines she was certain were etched there permanently now. No matter how many days, no matter how much distance, between her, Zayn and that tent in the desert, her skin still burned with his touch. Her chest aching with the memory of what it had been like to be joined with him in that way. With what it had been like to feel so close to someone.
She hadn’t realized how much of her life she’d spent alone until that moment. Until that moment of perfect togetherness.
If there is only myself, then I choose you.
His words played over and over in her mind, echoed in her heart. Made her hope where there should be none.
Before she realized what she was doing, she had walked over to the door of her bedroom and wandered out into the corridor. As usual, her end of the palace was empty, and only the sound of her footsteps kept her company as she moved down the long hall.
She continued to walk until she reached the entryway, where there were a few staff members still milling around. It was late, and it seemed as though nearly everyone had retired for the evening.
As usual, no one looked at her. She wondered what they really thought of her. Who they really thought she might be. If they had assumed from the beginning that she was Zayn’s lover, if they cared either way.
She wasn’t entirely certain of what she was doing, only that she needed to find him. Only that she needed to end this separation. They hadn’t even seen each other for meals, so skilled was his avoidance. He was always consumed with something very important, something that always took precedence over sitting down with her again.
Because he was avoiding her, too. Which she actually found encouraging.
This love thing was a strange business.
Her stomach tightened as she got closer to Zayn’s quarters. Anticipation, nerves, excitement, all vied for top position as she continued to walk through the palace.
When she came to the doors, she paused. Should she knock? Probably. But would he answer? Was he even in his rooms? If not, it was probably locked. That meant she could at least try the handle.
She did, and much to her surprise it gave. Heart thundering in her throat, she pushed the door open.
The lighting in his study was dim, and her eye was drawn to the brightest thing in the room—the fire, which blazed in the hearth. She was so distracted by that, she missed the dark outline of Zayn sitting in one of the chairs until he moved.
It was a subtle motion, his hand lifting his glass from the side table.
“Oh, I didn’t expect to find you here.” She stood near the door, not sure if she should stay, or run. Although, since he had seen her already, running seemed a little bit of an overreaction. It wasn’t as though he was going to throw her in a dungeon.
“If you didn’t expect to find me here, what did you expect to find?” He took a sip of whatever drink he had in his glass, and set it back down on the table.
“Well, I hoped to find you, I just didn’t expect to be successful.”
“I see.” He took another drink. “And why were you looking for me?”
“Because we hadn’t seen each other. Because...because I thought we might do another interview.” She didn’t know that’s what she thought until she spoke the words out loud. But the moment she did, she knew it was true.
“I think I’ve told you all I can.” He looked up at her, his eyes dark, glittering hollows in the firelight.
“I haven’t.” Her heart was pounding hard, her throat dry.
“Are you suggesting that I interview you?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”
He was silent for a long time, looking at her, his expression unreadable, shrouded in darkness. Then he finally spoke. “Have a seat.”
She obeyed, moving deeper into the room and settling in the armchair across from him. She clasped her hands in her lap, and waited.
“So I’m meant to ask you anything?” he asked, his eyes fixed on hers, unreadable.
“It’s your interview.” The blood in her veins seemed to have slowed, breathing becoming difficult.
“I have nowhere to sell the story.”
“So, then I suppose it’s up to you to decide what is most interesting.”
“Then I’ll start with what interests me most.” She braced herself. “Why were you a virgin?”
Her stomach tightened, she might have known that this was the question he would ask. Well, she might have known that had she taken the time to think through where this might be going. The idea had come to her on the spur of the moment and she hadn’t really thought it through to the end game.
“See, now I have to think about myself. And it’s much easier not to. At least, it’s much easier to just keep doing what you’ve always done and never ask yourself why. But now you’re asking me why, and I guess that means I have to know. The easy answer is that I never wanted to be like my mother. That I never wanted to be enslaved to the kind of passion she seemed to be held captive to. But now? Now I think there was something else.”
“And what was that something else?”
“You have to get naked to have sex.”
He looked her over, his expression inscrutable, but his eyes filled with heat. “You have nothing to be concerned about on that score.”
“I’m not just talking about physically. Making love with someone makes you vulnerable. Even without having done it, I knew it. That’s what I had seen in my mother that scared me so much. Vulnerability. And when you get stripped down to the point of revealing your vulnerabilities, you can’t hide anything. You can’t hide who you really are. And it’s funny, because I told you about the way I think about finding my dad. About how I’ve had fantasies about going to that party, and saying all of that stuff to him. And in those fantasies I’m an entirely different person. That’s my entire life. Working to become something other than what I was born into. To become the thing that I thought I deserved to be. But that had nothing to do with who I actually am. I’ve been afraid of exposing who I am, because I’ve always thought that person might be looked at and found wanting. Because if somebody doesn’t like your facade, then you can change it. But if someone doesn’t like you...that’s much more difficult. I think what I was avoiding was being naked in that sense.”
A metallic flavor filled her mouth, something she recognized as panic. Because this was the most terrifying moment of her entire life. The most frightening thing she had ever admitted. That with him she was real, that she was desperately afraid of being found wanting. This was honesty, and it was easy for her to see why she had avoided honesty in the past.
Zayn didn’t speak, instead he reached for his glass and took another drink.
Silence filled the room expanding like a living thing, building upon the fear that was pressing on her chest.
He set the glass back down on the table, the click on the hard surface nearly deafening.
“And have you been naked with me?”
It was the question she feared the most, and yet she knew she had no choice but to answer it honestly.
“Yes.”
“Have I seen you?”
“Yes.” She looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “Have I seen you, Zayn?”
He spread his hands. “I’m not certain what you mean by that. Of course you have seen me.”
“I’ve seen the ruler. I have seen the sheikh. But have I seen the man?” She thought of him, trembling above her as he found his release, the intensity that had passed between them. She felt as though she had seen glimpses of the man, like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. But a shaft of light shining briefly through the darkness did not make for a clear day.
“The sheikh is the man, the man is the sheikh, et cetera.”
“If there were no kingdoms, if there were no kings, who would you be?” she asked, her voice rough as she echoed the words he had spoken to her when he’d held her in his arms.
“It is a question that cannot be answered. For the fact remains that there are kingdoms. And I am the king of one of them. And I must do the right thing by my people.”
“And why is this the right thing? Why is marrying a woman you don’t love the best thing for your people?”
“The preparations are in full effect. I have given my word. Going back on that could be nothing but detrimental. Leila is... My sister is going through something. I can’t talk about it. It is not my secret. I failed one sister, Sophie. I failed to protect Jasmine. I will not fail on that level, not again. I have hurt too many people to ever risk it again.”
She could sense the desperation in his tone, read the urgency that ran beneath his words. And she could hear things that were not spoken.
“You are the strongest man I have ever met. You give more of yourself with every breath than I will ever be able to give in my entire life. I have spent years consumed with the idea of showing up some man who barely even cares that I exist. How is that even a life? What have I ever done for anyone?”
“You are here because of a friend, Sophie. Don’t think I have forgotten that. I don’t have a scandal for you. Not the one you were looking for.”
“It isn’t about that now. I’ll help Isabelle how I can. But I realize you don’t really know anything about the Chatsfields.” She had realized it for a while now, and she could barely bring herself to be angry about it. Because she had been doing something for a person she loved, and he’d been doing the same. But things were different now, now that she understood him.
Now that he had seen her naked.
“What is it about?” His voice was rough, frayed.
“Right now it just feels like it’s about you and me. It feels like...it feels like something I’ve never experienced before. I feel like a person I’ve never been brave enough to be before.”
“We needed to leave this in the desert.” He sounded tortured now, angry almost, but also desperate. And it was that desperation that she clung to. “We cannot do this here.”
“Please, just for one more night. Please be the man. Because the man is not the king. I want to see the man.”
“Sophie,” he said, his voice a growl now, “you don’t know what you’re asking. The man is better off dead and buried. He is nothing. He is selfish, destructive. He brought death upon his house. And he deserves to remain locked down so deep that he cannot breathe, much less move, much less resurface and destroy anything else.”
“No, I don’t believe that’s true. Because I think the man is wonderful.”
He rose, fire blazing in his eyes as he closed the distance between them. He reached down, wrapping his hand around her arm, tugging her up to her feet. “You are a fool.”
Perhaps she was, perhaps she was seeing things that didn’t exist. Or perhaps she was the only one who saw the truth. Perhaps she simply needed to make him see.
She rose up on her tiptoes, and leaned in, brushing her lips against his. The spark that burned between them quickly ignited, raging out of control the moment they made contact with each other. He tightened his hold on her, wrapping his other arm around her waist and pulling her firmly against him, crushing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest.
She tilted her head, deepening their kiss, her heart pounding out of control. She wanted to do for him what he had done for her, wanted to strip away the layers, strip away the obligation, every outside influence that had managed to wrap itself around him and reveal who he really was beneath it all.
No matter what he said, she knew that he was hiding himself. She knew she had to find him.
Because he had found her. And how could she offer him anything less?
She pulled at his shirt, desperate to have his skin against hers. Desperate to find that moment of clarity she had felt out in the desert. That moment of connection. So perfect, so unlike anything she had ever experienced before. He growled, and deepened the kiss, pushing her back against the wall, her back hitting hard against the stone surface. But she didn’t care. It didn’t hurt, on the contrary it felt wonderful. To have the intensity that burned inside of her matched in their movements on the outside.
He pulled her shirt over her head, giving himself over to this completely. There was no restraint in him, not now, and it was absolutely perfect. Everything she wanted, everything she needed. She wanted to release the man that he wanted to keep contained. Wanted to set him free.
And she damn well would.
She put her hands on his belt, working the leather through the brass buckle, then moving to the closure of his pants. She pushed them down his lean hips, taking his underwear with them, not even remotely shocked at her boldness. She would have been, only days ago. But not now. She had left her fear behind.
She had left her protection behind, too, and she was revealing herself. Now.
She lowered herself slowly to her knees, wrapping her hand around his hardened length, squeezing him gently. His breath hissed through his teeth, his head falling back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She could tell he was on the edge, could tell that she was close to accomplishing her goal. Because while she might be the one in the submissive position, he was the one who was at her mercy. On her knees before the king, she was about to bring him to his.
She leaned in, flicking her tongue over the head of his erection. She had no preconceived ideas about this act, she had never given it much thought. Yes, the subject had come up in groups of friends at university. But she had often tuned them out. Because it simply hadn’t mattered to her, because she had other things on her mind. She would simply sit there, and nod, and giggle at the appropriate moment. All the while her mind would be somewhere else.
Right now, it was certainly in the present. And right now, she knew exactly what she wanted.
“Sophie,” he growled, his hand going to her hair, holding her fast. “Be very sure you know what you’re doing.”
A sense of freedom flooded her, something intense blooming in her chest, spreading outward. A feeling of strength, a feeling of confidence. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never done this before. I’ve never even fantasized about doing it before. I’ll probably do it wrong. But I want to do this with you.” For the first time, she felt completely at ease admitting that she wasn’t an expert, she didn’t feel the need to stumble through, pretending that she was in her element. She didn’t need to be in her element, not when she was with him. She simply needed to be.
“You couldn’t possibly do it wrong,” he said, his voice rough.
She leaned in, sliding her tongue more confidently now over the head of him. Because he had said she couldn’t do it wrong, and now she felt confident in that. Felt free in that. She parted her lips, and took him in deeper, running her tongue along his length, tasting him fully. She squeezed the base of him with her hand, continuing to tease him with her mouth.
He tightened his hold on her hair, tugging hard as she continued her sensual assault. She could feel the layers he’d wrapped himself in starting to fall away. Feel the grip he had on his control loosening, as his grip on her tightened.
He pulled up hard, and she froze. “Stop it, now.” She had never heard him sound so close to the edge, and the thrill shot through her, canceling out any discomfort she felt from his hold on her hair.
“Why?” She knew why, and that was the best part.
“Unless you want it to end this way.”
Her face got hot, arousal rushing through her. “That might be nice.”
“Oh, no, I can make it so much better for you.”
He took hold of both of her arms, and lifted her to her feet, before shifting positions, and sweeping her up into his arms. He held her tightly to his chest as he strode through the study, heading deeper into his quarters. She looped her arms around his neck, her eyes fixed on his. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking ahead.
She leaned in and kissed his neck, pressing her lips right over the place where his pulse throbbed.
He pushed open the door, and she looked away from him so that she could take in their new surroundings. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw the size of the bed at the far end of the room. Being with him had been perfect, even in a pile of blankets, in a tent. This, this was a fantasy. A fantasy and a half. One she had never allowed herself, one that she almost ached over not having had before. Because it might have made the moment more poignant. Because it would have been the culmination of a dream, rather than the realization of all the dreams she’d never let herself have. Though this moment needed nothing to be more important. It was impossible for it to be more important. It was everything.
Her heart swelled in her chest as he deposited her on the bed, curling his fingers into the waistband of her pants and taking them down, along with her panties. He positioned himself between her thighs, his dark eyes blazing into hers. “I will take the time to explore you, later.”
They both knew there was every chance there would not be a later. But it didn’t matter. It made for a lovely fantasy, added to all the fantasies she’d never had before. She might as well have one now. In this moment, she might as well believe that anything was possible. In this moment, she might as well believe in the possibility of everything. She shoved aside all of her practicality, all of her cynicism, and simply embraced this moment.
She nodded. “Later.”
He kissed her deeply as he tested the entrance to her body with the blunt head of his arousal, sliding inside of her slowly. She clung to him as he did, as he closed the distance between them. He shifted, gathering her wrists in his hand, and pushing her hands above her head, holding them there, as he continued to kiss her. He flexed his hips, sending a spike of pleasure through her body.
She lost herself in the motions, and the feeling of him inside of her. He broke their kiss, lowering his head and taking one nipple in his mouth, sucking it in deep. He lifted his head as he quickened his movements, as he started to lose himself in his own pleasure. She loved that she could recognize that, that she could feel the control burning away. It was what she wanted, it was what she craved.
He released his hold on her wrists, adjusting his position so that he was holding her hands, his fingers laced through hers, holding them above her head as he continued to thrust deep inside of her. She watched him, watched as the lines of tension in his forehead deepened, before they finally relaxed, as he shook, gave himself up to his orgasm and released his hold on the world. As Surhaadi fell away, as his need to care for everyone but himself fell away.
She watched his face as he became Zayn. Nothing more.
And then she was caught up in the same storm, everything ripped from her as pleasure took over, as she joined with him at the summit, caught in a storm that consumed them both.
She held him close after, listened to him breathe, felt his muscles tremble beneath her fingers.
And with every bit of confidence she had, a confidence that was now placed in herself, in who she really was, and not just in her ability to fool people into thinking she was something they wanted to see, she knew what she wanted. She knew what she needed. She knew how she felt.
“I love you.”
