Читать книгу Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 2 - Susan Mallery, Alexandra Sellers - Страница 13

Tariq’s arm tightened convulsively around her waist and the fire in his eyes blazed out of control. “No, this time I will ride.” He turned her in his arms and picked her up without effort. “A long, slow ride. You can have another turn later.” A hard kiss on her lips sealed the rough promise.

He laid her on the sheets after pushing aside the blanket. For the first time, Jasmine saw him completely naked. He was big. She hadn’t thought about just how much bigger than her he was, until that moment.

His eyes met hers and she knew he understood her apprehension. “I won’t hurt you, Mina.” He moved onto the bed and covered her body with his own. The heavy weight of him was like a full-body caress, a feast for her senses.

“You always call me Mina when you want to get your own way.” She spread her thighs for him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Tariq rewarded her trust by slipping his hands under her waist and cupping her buttocks. “I’ll always get my way from now on.” His statement was uncompromising, as was the blunt tip of his erection against her.

Then he kissed her, his tongue mimicking the ultimate sensual act. Jasmine knew she was ready; she’d felt herself slick and moist against his thigh. She knew it, but it took his kiss on her breast, his huskily uttered, “I’ll take care of you, Mina,” to make her believe.

“Now,” she whispered.

He gripped her hips and pushed. At the same time, he captured one strawberry-pink nipple into his mouth and suckled. Hard. Jasmine screamed and bucked under the onslaught of feeling, inadvertently easing his way. He surged inside her, tearing through the thin membrane that had protected her innocence. She gasped, her body taut.

“Mina?” He was frozen above her.

She dug her fingernails into his shoulders. “A long, slow ride,” she reminded him in a breathless murmur, still adjusting to the feel of his heat inside her.

Three torturously slow strokes later, she was begging him to go faster.

“You are too impatient,” he reprimanded her, but his body glistened with sweat and she could feel him trembling with the effort to hold back.

She tightened her legs around him and drew her nails down his back. His eyes flashed as his control fractured and then he slammed into her. Jasmine bit his shoulder when her desire reached a crescendo, and then she felt herself explode for the second time that night. Above her, Tariq went rigid as his own climax roared through him.

His body was heavy when he collapsed on top of her, but she was so exhausted she couldn’t move. Instead, she nestled her face in the crook of his neck and fell asleep.

Jasmine awoke sometime in the twilight hours when her stomach growled. Only then did she realize that, as a consequence of her nervousness, she hadn’t eaten since she’d left New Zealand. She attempted to shift, and found she couldn’t. One heavy male leg pinned her lower body to the bed and the arm curved possessively under her breasts immobilized her torso. Her stomach growled again.

“Tariq.” She turned her head and kissed his neck. Under her lips, his skin was warm and tasted faintly of the desert and the salt and spice of their loving. “Wake up.”

He groaned in his sleep and tightened his embrace. Sighing, Jasmine put her hands on his shoulders and shook him.

“You wish for your ride already, Mina?” His sleepy question made her turn bright red. Now that she wasn’t in the grip of passion, she couldn’t believe her boldness.

She frowned. “I wish for food. I’m starving.”

He chuckled and rolled over, taking her with him. She ended up sprawled on his chest. His eyes glinted at her from behind half-closed lids. “What will you give me if I feed you?”

Her stomach growled again. Loudly. “Peace.”

This time he laughed, his chest rumbling under her hands. “Ah Mina, you are never what is expected.” He gave a longsuffering sigh. “I’ll see if I can find you food.”

He put her aside with careful hands and slipped out of bed. Jasmine couldn’t help watching him. The well-defined muscles of his back bunched as he stood up and bent over to pick up the robe he’d pushed out of her hands.

“Like what you see?” he asked, without turning around.

Jasmine felt herself blush again. “Yes.”

He was pleased by her answer. She saw his smile when he turned to walk out, shrugging into the robe.

“Where are you going?”

“There is food in the dining area. I’ll bring it to you.”

After he left, Jasmine quickly found her rumpled gown and slithered into it. She was sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets, hoping the shadows hid the sheer quality of the gown, when he came back. Not saying anything, Tariq put the tray of food in the center of the bed and lounged on the other side like a lazy panther, watching her eat.

“So, what’s my name now?” she asked, once the sharp edge of her appetite had been dulled to something bearable.

“Jasmine al-Huzzein Coleridge-Donovan Zamanat.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened and her hand stopped midway to her lips. She stopped chewing. “Good grief. What a mouthful! I didn’t know that I got to keep my maiden name.”

“Zulheil’s women have always been cherished.” He stretched lazily. “It’s why we do not ask them to convert their religion upon marriage. The choice is yours.”

The words sent a warm glow through her. Yes, she thought again, there was hope. “So Donovan was your mother’s name?”

A flicker of darkness seemed to shadow his eyes, but his response was easy. “You know she was Irish.” He plucked a fig off Jasmine’s plate and put it into his mouth. For a minute, she just stared at the sensuous shape of his lips, reminded of the things he’d done to her with that clever, clever mouth.

“When we have a child, he or she will have al-Huzzein Coleridge Zamanat as their name. Al-Huzzein Zamanat is the name of the ruling family, but their mother’s name is also always carried by the children.”

He glanced curiously at her when she didn’t reply. She blushed and transferred her attention back to her food. The thought of carrying Tariq’s child caused bittersweet pain. She knew she had to tell him her secret…but not now.

“You have her eyes.”

“Yes. And…” He paused. When Jasmine looked up, he smiled his dangerous smile. “Some would say I have her temper.”

“They’re obviously bright people.” She picked up a dried apricot and fed it to him. He caught her wrist in a lightning-fast move and licked her fingers clean, like a great big cat lapping at his meal. His eyes never left hers.

“You must miss them.” Swallowing, she fought the sensual promise in the air to address something far more important.

He looked away from her, into the shadows. “They are gone. I must lead my people now. I have no time to mourn.”

Jasmine hurt for him. Everyone should be given the chance to grieve. Even a sheik. She’d opened her mouth to offer her support when he took the tray of food and put it on the floor. “Enough talking.” He tumbled her to the bed.

Tariq did not wish to talk of his parents. The pain of their deaths had been intense. What he’d discovered afterward had almost driven him mad with grief. His beautiful, loving mother had been dying of cancer. His parents had been on the way back from a clinic when the car crashed.

The woman he’d trusted most in the world had kept a secret that had stolen her from him before her death. He’d had so many things to tell her, but because she hadn’t had enough faith in him to share her secret, he would never get the chance. And he’d never know if there was something he could’ve done that would have averted tragedy.

Shaking off the memories, he pressed Jasmine into the mattress, pleased by her instant acceptance. Here, there would be no lies between them. There would be no secrets in the pleasure their bodies found in one another. He shoved aside the errant thought that there couldn’t be such passion without emotional consequences, unwilling to concede that this tiny woman, with her gentle smiles and lush sensuality, might have already found a foothold in the lost places of his soul.

“You are sore?”

He could tell that she blushed by the hotness of her skin under his palm. Her heart’s ragged beat became even faster.

“No.” She hid her face against his neck.

“I won’t force you, Mina. Never will I take what is not freely given.” He stroked her back and pressed a line of kisses down her throat, luxuriating in her softness. Mina’s delicious curves made him want to conquer her feminine secrets with slow, languorous enjoyment.

“Can I force you?”

He was startled for an instant by the suggestive whisper, and then he smiled. “Do you want me so much then, my wife?”

“You know I want you.” Those eyes of hers flashed fire at him, unexpected and delightful. Again he had to acknowledge that this Mina wasn’t the same girl who’d almost destroyed him four years ago.

He leaned down and tasted her lower lip. Her teeth scraped gently over his in return. Yes, he thought, this Mina was no tame kitten to be ordered to heel. This Mina had claws. Would she use them to fight him or fight for him?

New excitement flickered through his bones.

Two days later, he walked into a turret room at one end of their suite, just in time to see Mina raise her arms above her head and say, “Perfect!”

Surrounded on three sides by clear glass, the room was bathed in sunshine. As Mina danced across the floor, dust motes whirled with her, as if excited by her laughter. His whole body clenched. Buried feelings shook off their bindings. So easily, she could once again hold his heart in her hands.

Shocked by the knowledge of his susceptibility to a woman whose loyalty had never belonged to him, he fought off the tenderness she’d aroused.

“What’s perfect?” he asked at last.

Startled, Jasmine froze and met Tariq’s dark gaze. His power and charisma seemed to have increased in the hours that they’d been apart. “This room,” she managed to answer. “I thought I’d use it for a workroom. Is that okay?”

Tariq moved farther inside. “This is your home, Mina. Do as you wish.”

His generosity gave lie to his harsh words in the car. Jasmine smiled and hugged him. He didn’t react, and she drew away before he could think to push her away. Affection was something completely different from touching in bed, and Tariq had given no sign that he wanted anything from her outside of that sensual arena. The knowledge hurt, but she was determined to break through the barriers between them.

“Thank you.” Walking over to one of the windows, she found that it looked out into their private garden. “This room would be perfect for your painting. Where’s your studio?”

The vibration of the floor beneath her bare feet warned her of his approach. Seconds later, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “I am a sheik, Mina. I don’t have time for such things.”

Jasmine frowned. “But you loved painting.” She treasured the painting he’d done for her in New Zealand. It had become a talisman of sorts, keeping her focused on her dream.

“We do not always get to do what we love.”

“No,” she agreed, shaken by the implacability of his statement. Her Tariq, who’d been gentle enough in his heart to truly love, was now buried under the stoney facade of this sheik. Doubts about her ability to reach him surfaced once again, though she tried to fight them. For a woman who’d never been loved by those who were supposed to treasure her despite her faults, it was a task that required a mix of defiant courage and desperate hope.

Tariq closed his hands around her neck and caressed the sensitive skin with his thumbs, his eyes hooded and mysterious. “We do not have the time for a wedding journey, but I am scheduled to visit one of the desert tribes tomorrow. You will come.”

He was giving her no choice, but Jasmine didn’t want one. She’d spent four years apart from him. It was enough. “Where are we going?” Her skin felt as if it was on fire.

Tariq rubbed his thumb over one particular spot. “I marked you this morning.”

Her hand flew to her throat and touched his hand. “I didn’t realize when I chose this blouse.”

He looked at her, the green of his eyes altered by emotion to something close to black. “You are mine in every way, Mina.”

She didn’t know what to say to the possessiveness in his tone. It was a little frightening to be the wife of this dangerous man. Sometimes her Tariq appeared, but mostly, all she saw was this cold, glittering mask.

“Such soft, white skin, my Jasmine.” His throaty words made her relax. Tariq’s desire she could cope with, but when he retreated behind his shields, she wanted to scream with frustration. “You mark so easily.”

“Tariq, what—” she began, surprised when he started to undo the buttons on her scoop-necked blouse.

He ignored her fluttering hands. Eyes wide, Jasmine watched his dark head dip and then felt his mouth on her breast. Sizzling. It was the only word to describe the sensation of his lips against her skin. She clutched at his silken hair as he began to suck at the soft flesh. Her body felt like one big flame, his touch the fuel. A minute later, he moved away.

Picking up her hand, he touched one finger to the small red mark on her breast. “See this and know that you are mine.”

She stared at him, stunned by the possessive act. Yet she was also aroused beyond comprehension, her body reacting to the primitive maleness of his actions.

“Keep thinking those thoughts.” He kissed her once, a kiss calculated to keep her aching. “I will satisfy us both tonight.” Then he turned on his heel and strode out.

Jasmine felt her knees begin to buckle. She grabbed the window ledge behind her for support. Unbidden, one hand rose to her breast. He’d deliberately marked her as a gesture of possession, of ownership. She remembered the glittering satisfaction on his face, the harsh lines of his cheekbones, the lush sensuality of his lips, and shivered. Part of it was desire, but the other part was a painful uncertainty. She didn’t want to believe that Tariq felt only lust for her, not when he treated her so tenderly at times, but this act of branding had been driven by something darker than love or affection. Something that she instinctively knew could destroy their relationship if she didn’t find and confront it.

The next day dawned with skies of crystal clarity and beauty so pure and pristine it made Jasmine’s heart ache. Such glory humbled her and yet gave her courage.

They left Zulheina in a limousine for the five-hour journey into the hinterlands of Zulheil. From there, they would have to go by camel to the important, though small, desert holding of Zeina.

“Who are the others following us?” she asked Tariq, after they had pulled out of the palace.

“Three of my inner council are coming.” He crooked a finger. Jasmine smiled and moved to sit beside him. He cradled her against his body. Unlike the steely intensity of his passion the night before, today he was relaxed, content to just hold her. “At the end of the road, we’ll be met by two guides sent from Zeina to lead us to the outpost.”

“It sounds isolated.”

“It is the way of our people. We are not like the roaming Bedouin tribes, because we settle and set up cities. But for the most part, our cities are small and isolated.”

“Even Zulheina isn’t that big, is it?”

Tugging off the tie at the end of her plait, he unraveled her hair. Jasmine laid her head against his chest and basked in his unexpected affection. Just yesterday, she hadn’t believed it possible that he’d enjoy this gentle touching.

“No. Abraz is the biggest city, the city we show to the outside world, but Zulheina is the heart of the sheikdom.”

“Why is Zeina important?”

He moved his hand to her nape and began to rub his fingers over the sensitive skin in a slow caress. She arched into his touch like a cat. “Ah, Mina, you’re a contradiction.” His amused words made her tilt her head back to meet his gaze.

“In what way?”

He touched her parted lips with his fingers and said, “So free and uninhibited in my arms and yet such a lady in public. It’s a delightful combination.”

“Why do I know you’re going to add something else?”

“I find I relish stripping away that ladylike facade in my imagination. It’s very enjoyable to spend time planning exactly how I will make you cry out.”

“Now every time I look at you, I’ll think you’re thinking that.” She blushed.

“You would probably be correct.” His laughing eyes warned her of his intention before he covered her lips with his own.

Jasmine wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed into the slow and lazy loving. Tariq was in no hurry. Pulling her into his lap, he caressed her breasts with hands that knew every inch of her, and gave her a lesson in the pleasures of kissing. He tasted the inner sweetness of her mouth and nibbled at her lips when she needed to breathe, then returned to tempt her with his tongue, seemingly willing to do this forever. She was the one who got so heated she began to wriggle.

“No more,” she gasped, and broke the kiss, aware of the hard ridge of his arousal under her bottom.

His eyes were slumberous, his desire clear, but he pulled down her tunic and settled her beside him on the seat again. “You’re right, Mina. I would need hours to finish this.”

Flustered and aroused, she scooted to the other side of the car. “Tell me about Zeina before you start your work.”

His smile was very male as he gazed at her heaving breasts. “Zeina is one of the major suppliers of Zulheil Rose. For some as yet unknown reason, the gem only exists alongside deposits of oil. It is a strange crystal.”

Jasmine whistled. “Talk about double dipping.”

“It could be like that, but over centuries, the tribes of Zulheil have set up an interconnecting system that means that not just those people living near such bounty will benefit. For example, the Zulheil Rose leaves Zeina in a condition close to its raw state. It then goes out to two tribes in the north, who train the best artisans in the world.”

Jasmine knew Tariq’s pride was justified. The artisans of Zulheil were considered magicians. “Wait a second.” She frowned in thought. “If the crystal is only found next to deposits of oil, why isn’t Zulheina an oil center?”

“Zulheina is odd in more than one sense. Contradictory as it seems, our engineers and geologists insist there is not an ounce of oil in the area,” he informed her. “So we think of the palace crystal as a gift from the Gods.”

“I can’t argue with that. It’s so beautiful.” She sighed in remembrance. “What’s the purpose of this trip?”

“We’re a scattered people. I make it a point to visit each tribe at least once a year.” He stretched out his long legs, taking up even more of her space. “I’m afraid I must read these reports now, Mina.” He gestured to some papers that he’d slipped into one of the pockets lining the limousine doors.

She nodded in acquiescence, thinking over everything he’d said. It was clear that while Tariq didn’t yet trust her with his love, he had no qualms about sharing the business of his sheikdom with her. For the first time in her life, she felt a part of something greater, not just an outside observer. With hope renewed in her heart, she plucked a small sketchbook out of her purse and began to design a dress of moonlight and silver.

Tariq looked up from his papers to find Mina’s hand flying in graceful strokes across the page. Her face was intense in concentration, her mouth set in a way that suggested something had caught her attention. He was fascinated.

When they’d first met, she’d been a student, but her studies hadn’t captured her interest. Today, she was fully absorbed in her thoughts. This was, he realized with a sense of wonder he couldn’t fight, the first time he’d truly come face-to-face with the woman his Mina had grown into.

“May I see?” he asked, wanting to learn about this new Jasmine, this woman who threatened to catch him in a net far stronger than the one that had ensnared him four years ago.

Startled blue eyes looked into his, but then a slow smile bloomed. “If you like.” At the shy welcome, he moved to sit beside her, his arm along the back of the seat.

He looked over her shoulder. “An evening gown.”

“I thought that I’d use material shot with silver.”

Her hair was soft against his fingertips as he leaned down to study the clean lines of the drawing. “You’re talented. This is lovely.”

Her cheeks flushed with color. “Really?”

There was hunger in the need she tried to hide. He recalled her defensiveness about her designing when he’d first questioned her—the reaction of someone whose dream had never received support. Distanced from the rapier-sharp pain of the past, he began to see a glimmer of the forces that had shaped this woman and her decisions. A kind of furious tenderness for her rose inside him. The urge to punish those who had hurt her while she’d been lost to him was so strong, he had to exercise conscious effort to control it.

“Yes, really. You might find some material to your liking in the shipment that comes from Razarah in the next month.” In fact, he’d make sure that bolts were delivered for her perusal. “Tell me about your designs.”

Eyes bright, she did. The journey passed in easy companionship that surprised him. Since he’d ascended to the throne, he’d never been free to simply “be” with anyone. Now Mina, with her laughter and her dreams, was tempting him to relax. To play. Did he trust her enough to unbend that much?