Читать книгу Midnight in Arabia - Люси Монро, Trish Morey, Люси Монро - Страница 16

FOR the second night in a row, Iris found herself walking with Asad toward her room at bedtime. It was much later this night though, the last of Asad’s guests having just left.

“There is one chamber you have yet to see in my home,” he said as they reached her door.

She’d spent the last hours of the party wrestling with what to do about Asad and had come to a decision.

One thing was certain—he wasn’t giving up. She knew how determined he could be and was under no illusions that this time would be any different. He wanted her. He would do his best to get what he wanted.

She could spend the next few weeks doing her level best to avoid him and stifle her own desire for him, but she was not convinced of her own ultimate success.

If she let herself love him again, she was lost. There was another option though, wasn’t there?

She’d come to believe that sharing his bed again would help heal her heart. Sometimes the only way to rebirth in life was through the fire. Just like a Phoenix. She would be the one to leave this time and because of that she would not spend the next six years seeing his face every time she looked with interest at another man.

She’d come to the conclusion that the way out of the isolated existence her life had become was the same way into it. Through Asad. This time she knew he wasn’t looking for a future with her and she would not allow herself to look for one either … or fall in love with him again.

That would dictate the difference in the outcome. It had to.

“You’re right.” Her voice was husky, but not tentative. One thing her feelings about this man had never been was tentative. “I haven’t seen your room.”

“Would you like to?”

“It will not offend your grandparents?” Iris was not naive enough to believe they would not figure it out, even if she left Asad’s bed in the wee hours as she meant to.

This kind of thing always seemed to get out eventually. Physical intimacy had a way of showing itself, even when those involved did their best to hide it. And Asad was too proud and arrogant to even try.

Iris was no good at hiding her emotions, even if she wanted to. She would show the change in her relationship with the sheikh, even if she did her best not to.

He pulled her around to face him, his expression dark and serious. “I am sheikh now. There is no offense in me doing as I see fit in my own home.”

She took leave to doubt that culturally it was easy as that, but then this man lived by his own rules, no matter how traditionally Bedouin he could be at times.

“Your arrogance is showing again.”

“I am certain of my place.”

She nodded, for the moment equally certain of hers. “Show me.”

His nostrils flared and his eyes burned her. “It will be my pleasure.”

“If I remember right, the pleasure was always very mutual.”

“Yes.”

He led her into his room and she was surprised to discover that the chamber was the same size as hers, but the bed was much bigger. Covered in pillows and a silk quilt embroidered with a roaring male lion in the center, it was easily twice the width of her bed. Between it and the sparse furniture, there was no extra room as in her chamber.

The sound of rustling clothes had her looking back toward him only to discover he was already disrobing, his kuffiya discarded, revealing dark hair that framed his fierce features even better than the head covering had done. He’d also tossed off the ornate robe he’d worn to the feast. Under it he had on the traditional loose trousers and … an Armani shirt?

She grinned.

“What?” he asked, arrested in his movements while looking at her.

“You’re wearing Armani with your traditional garb.”

He shrugged. “I prefer their shirts.” He dropped his trousers. “And their shorts.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his muscular legs. Darker than they used to be, and rippling with even more muscle she wanted to touch.

There was a time when she had believed that body belonged to her. She knew now that it did not, but she could still revel in the knowledge that as long as she shared his bed, for all intents and purposes, it might as well be hers.

“Nice,” she said, unable to hide the catch in her voice.

His hardness pressed against the black silk of his Armani boxers, letting her know that his desire for her was real. He unbuttoned the shirt, letting it fall open to reveal the sprinkling of black curls that lightly covered his chest and abdomen.

“You used to shave that,” she observed.

He frowned momentarily. “I was trying to be more urbane.”

“But why would you want to? You were always so proud of your heritage.” It was one of many things about him that had impressed her.

Asad had known who and what he was in a way she had still been trying to achieve for herself. But maybe, he hadn’t had it as together as she’d believed. That knowledge cast the past in a different light once again, one that eased old hurts even further.

She’d made the right decision to let him make love to her. This coming together would be healing … it already was.

“Another time, we will discuss these things.” He moved toward her. “But now is not the time for talking.”

She wouldn’t argue. It had been six years since she felt the level of excitement coursing through her body now and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

He rectified that with a swift movement, bringing their bodies flush and their mouths together in perfect union. Passion and need exploded inside her with nuclear power.

Everything she’d been suppressing for six years, but especially over the past two days broke through her mental restraints, making her body strain against his even as her lips gave him kiss for kiss, caress for caress.

He broke his mouth from hers, gasping. “It’s been so long. Too long.”

She had to agree. “Yes.”

“For you, as well?” he asked, his brown eyes almost black with the depth of his feeling.

And she could not deny him the truth. “For me, too.”

It had definitely been too long since she touched him, as the depth of her excitement showed. They’d had one explosive kiss and she felt like it would take only the slightest touch to her intimate flesh for her to climax.

He’d always known just how to touch her to bring her the ultimate in pleasure, but this was something different. This bliss was coming from deep inside her at the knowledge that, for a little while, they were going to be one again.

But she would not love him. Not this time. Their bodies would join, but not their hearts. She was too smart for that. Please, God, let her be too smart for that.

He shrugged his shirt off. “Come with me to my bed. Let us make new memories to supplant the old.”

He knew exactly what to say, but that should not surprise her. Other than when he dumped her, Asad had always known exactly what she needed to hear from him.

“New memories,” she agreed breathlessly as he gently pulled away the scarf covering her hair.

“I always loved your hair, the red is so rich and unique. It feels like liquid silk.” He combed through it with his fingers, his expression intent.

“That’s the shampoo and conditioner I use,” she said with a smile.

“You think?”

She nodded. She wasn’t a vain woman, she didn’t think, but Iris had always insisted on using salon quality products on her hair. The way it slipped through Asad’s fingers now made her little idiosyncrasy worth it.

“I think it is the magic of the woman, myself.”

“You think I’m magic?” she asked softly, tears stinging her eyes that she would not let fall.

“I do.” He stopped with his hands poised to undress her. “You are sure you want this?”

She was shocked by his question, but maybe she should not have been. No matter how determined Asad was, he was and had always been a man of honor.

She nodded.

“We will erase the ugly memories of the past.”

“What memories are you trying to erase?” she couldn’t help asking, though she so wanted to move forward with the seduction.

He shrugged, but then surprised her by following it up with words. “You were the last woman I bedded that brought nothing but honesty to our time together.”

“You were honest, too.” Though for a long time, she’d thought he hadn’t been.

“Yes.”

“So, this is a reset? For both of us?”

“Yes.”

She got that. He’d been hurt badly by Badra’s infidelity, Iris was sure. Asad wanted to go back to a time when he could trust the woman in his bed. Iris wanted the same thing. “Then, I’m sure.”

He nodded and then removed her galabia with reverent hands, his expression unreadable, but intense and primitive.

Was that possession glowing in his brown gaze? Or desire?

It didn’t matter. For a few brief hours, she would let her body be his, just not her heart.

He reached behind her to unclasp her bra. “You still wear such feminine underwear beneath your T-shirts and jeans.”

“I wasn’t wearing jeans tonight.”

“But you brought this with you regardless.” He drew the silky champagne lace bra down her arms and dropped it to the carpet under their feet.

She couldn’t deny it. She might dress like an asexual scientist most of the time, but underneath, her bras and panties were her one consistent feminine indulgence.

His large hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples.

She sucked in a breath.

Approval flared in his dark eyes. “So responsive.”

His gaze dipped low and she felt the caress of his eyes on her most sensitive flesh, though it was still hidden behind the stretch lace boy shorts that matched her bra. “This style is new for you. I like it.”

“It’s been six years since you’ve seen my underwear.”

“I’m keen to see what else you have in store for me.”

Which implied this was not a onetime deal. And she’d known that. He’d said as much when admitting he wanted her back in his bed, but this further proof that tonight was not their only and last night together still settled over her in an unexpected delight.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered in a guttural tone.

“Why don’t you?”

“I can’t stop touching you.” The admission affected something deep inside her she didn’t want reached and she almost pulled away.

But the way he played so intently with her breasts, giving her pleasure and so obviously taking his own from the caresses, made it impossible for her to deny him. Or herself.

Soon, they were both naked and lying together in the big bed, the covers tossed back. His hands mapping her body as if memorizing it, comparing it to memory and marking all the similarities and differences.

She could not remember a time they had made love before when he had been so intent on learning her every dip and crevice. Not even their first time together.

Something about tonight was different for him too, but she wasn’t about to speculate what that might be. She’d make the wrong assumptions as she’d done before and her heart couldn’t afford such mistakes again.

He leaned up over her, his regard serious. “You are the first woman I have brought to this bed.”

But he’d been married. “Badra?”

“Had her own room.”

Iris couldn’t imagine him having sex with his wife on that tiny bed, so Badra’s bed must have gone the way of her other things.

“Do you want me to be flattered?” she asked and then wished she could take back the facetious comment.

It might not be love, but this moment was too profound for sarcasm.

His tender smile said he was not offended. “It is I who am honored to have you here.”

So that was what he wanted, for her to feel honored by the distinction. And really? She did. Not that she was going to tell him so. It seemed like too much an admission to make after she’d opened herself to him in a way she’d been determined never to again.

“Kiss me, Asad.”

He did, a growl of desire sounding between them, his body moving over hers in that dominating way he’d always had. An aggressive lover, Asad filled her senses with his presence as he caressed her body with the clear intent to seduce and excite. He knew how to draw forth more than she ever intended to give and yet fill her with bliss in the way she responded to him.

She returned his touches, reveling in her ability to once again lay claim to the magnificent man above her.

Their kisses were incendiary, the fire burning inside her in no danger of being extinguished. Tense with need, her body remembered this man’s lovemaking and the capacity for pleasure he had taught her that she had.

He brought her to her first climax with his hand, his lips never leaving hers. Once he had swallowed all her cries as his due, he moved down her body, his mouth blazing a trail of heat and want that culminated in a renewed pulsing in the tender flesh between her thighs.

She found completion the second time with his mouth on her, his tongue lashing her clitoris with deft flicks, his hands roving her body and settling on her breasts as he manipulated her nipples to enhance her pleasure until she screamed with it.

She grabbed a pillow to stifle her cries, but he reared up and yanked it from her hand. “I want to hear every sound. I will have all of you.”

“But the tent walls …”

“Are far better at muffling sound than you would ever imagine, my sweet little Westerner.”

“That was the problem, wasn’t it?” she asked, her body still shuddering from the ultimate in pleasure, his resting between her wantonly spread thighs. “I was too Western for your people. Like your mother.”

“My grandmother was from the West, as well. She adapted.”

“But her son did not.”

“No. Why are we talking about my parents right now?” he asked as he thrust his hard and very impressive member against her.

“Because …” She let her voice trail off, unsure what she wanted to say, what she was willing to admit to.

Even though she didn’t want to be, she’d been trying to understand how he could let something so good go. What they’d had between them had been incredible, not just something that worked to relieve sexual tension.

“I might have been innocent, but even I knew we were amazing together. The sex was mind-blowing from the very first time.” And so had everything else between them been.

The dip of his head acknowledged the truth of her words.

“Why?” she asked, finally able to do so.

“I planned to marry Badra from the time I was eighteen.” And he was the type of man that when he had a plan, he stuck to it. Could it really have been that simple?

When she didn’t reply, he added, “There was no lack in you. Nothing missing from us.”

She just hadn’t been the Middle Eastern princess he’d wanted. “When you dumped me, I sure felt lacking.”

“No.” He kissed the join between her neck and shoulder, suckling up a love bite, and sent pleasure zinging through her. “You were the perfect lover.”

But not the perfect candidate for wife, even if Badra hadn’t been in the wings waiting. That much Iris understood.

Unwilling to dwell on a reality that she had no hope of changing, Iris offered, “You’re a pretty amazing lover, yourself, Asad.”

He moved over her body, reminding her of the stalking lion he’d been named for. “I would have you beyond amazed.”

“What, you want me passed out from pleasure?” she teased.

“It has happened before.”

Yes, it had. “Be my guest.” She waved languidly with her hand, as if it didn’t matter one way or another to her.

But they both knew it did. She’d never been indifferent to him. She never would be, but maybe, just maybe she would learn to move on from him.

“You have a serious expression I do not like,” he said with a frown. “You are not thinking of me.”

“Of course I’m thinking of you. Who else would I be thinking of while I am in your bed?”

He looked away, telltale color showing on his cut cheekbones. “I used to wonder.”

“What? Why?”

“You were not a virgin when you came to my bed the first time.” He met her eyes then. “I thought it mattered.”

Yes, he had, though she hadn’t known it. “If I recall correctly, it was my bed we used the first time, and I was as close to a virgin as you can get.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you think I’d had a string of lovers before you?”

“I preferred not to know details.”

Arrogant, possessive sheikh. Even though he’d had no intention of staying with her, he didn’t like to think of anyone else with her, either. He didn’t deserve the truth, but maybe she deserved for him to know it.

Six years before, she’d thought her innocence obvious and had only learned otherwise when they broke up.

“I lost my virginity on a bet.”

“That is … a bet …” For the first time ever, she saw Asad bin Hanif al Sha’b Al’najid lost for words.

It made her smile despite the topic under discussion. “For my high school years, my parents placed me in a coed boarding school known for its science programs.”

At least they’d cared enough to take the advice of her middle school counselor on that.

“Yes?”

“There were the typical geeks and jocks, though most of the athletically gifted were highly intelligent, as well. It wasn’t easy to get placement in the school and required high marks on the standardized tests.”

“I imagine you did very well indeed.”

She had, but book smart didn’t equal people smart as she’d learned unequivocally her sophomore year. “I was the bookish, shy student who didn’t make friends easily.”

“Because you were afraid to let them in.”

“Partly.” And partly because she was socially awkward.

He gently tipped her head back toward him. “I would have been your friend.”

It was a nice thing to say, but she couldn’t stifle her laughter. “No, you wouldn’t. You would have been one of the popular people. You couldn’t have helped yourself. You wouldn’t have even noticed me.”

“I noticed you in college and you had not appreciably changed by then I think.”

“True.” Why was she sharing her past again when he wasn’t going to be in her future? “Are you sure you want to hear this? It’s old news anyway.”

“Tell me about this bet.”

“The year I was a sophomore, the senior boys had a bet going on for who could bag the most virgins.”

“Bag?”

“Get in the sack … have sex with.”

“I see, and clearly at that age, you were a virgin.”

“I was. When the senior boy who decided to make me one of his conquests started flirting with me, I had no clue what was going on. It was only the middle of the school year, but by then, most of the students knew about the bet, so girls were wary of these boys.”

“But you are not a gossip and you pay little attention when it goes on around you.”

“Right. So I didn’t know. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I thought he just wanted to be my friend. And the funny thing? We ended up enjoying each other’s company a lot. He became my best friend.”

Asad winced. “Then you had sex.”

“Yes. Despite my naïveté, I wasn’t an easy mark—simply because the idea he’d want sex with me was so completely outside my thought process.”

“And sex would have been an intimate encounter for you, something you’d already learned to avoid.”

“You understand me so well.” She bit her lip. “So did Darren. We finally had sex the week before graduation. It only happened once. I didn’t like it very much.”

“He was harsh?”

“No. He tried to make it good for me. He kept asking me if I was okay. He wasn’t a cruel boy, not really. But it was my first time and I wasn’t doing it because I wanted him. I never desired anyone that way until I met you. I just wanted to be close to him.”

“What a little bastard.”

“No. Selfish and thoughtless? Yes.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know about the bet until two days later when one of the other boys in the competition came up to me and complained about how he’d had it in the bag until I won it for Darren.”

“The little prick.”

“Yes, he was. He wanted me to hurt, to know the sex hadn’t been about love, but in that, the joke was on him. I never thought Darren loved me.” She’d thought he was her friend and she’d felt enough betrayal from that, though they’d worked through it in the end.

“Yet you had sex with him.”

“He was leaving.”

“So you gave him your virginity?”

“I don’t expect you to understand.” Darren had, though. He’d known how hurt she was by the bet too, even though she’d pretended indifference. “Darren’s guilt was way worse than my embarrassment.”

“Don’t tell me you forgave him?”

“He’s one of my dearest friends.” Though they hadn’t seen each other more than a handful of times in the intervening years, they stayed in touch with email and telephone.

He’d invited her to his wedding and introduced Iris to his wife as the girl who had made him the man he’d come to be. That bet had had a transforming influence on Darren, changing forever the way he related to others and decimating the power of peer pressure in his life.

He’d told her once that she’d freed him. She’d told him he was an idiot, but knew deep down that in a way he was right. Only it had been his own deep regret at hurting her and the other girls that had truly set him free.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I can. Darren learned not to use people.” Iris hadn’t been so lucky. She hadn’t learned not to be used, not then anyway.

“You cannot be this disgusting boy’s friend. I forbid it.”

She laughed, finding the telling easier than she’d expected it to be. “Too late. And he’s no longer a boy. He’s an adult man, married with two children and working in the diplomatic corps.”

“I will see about that.”

“You will do no such thing. Darren hurt me, but he didn’t abandon me, not like you did. The boy who told me about the bet? Darren disowned their friendship.”

“He was quite the tarnished knight,” Asad said with heavy sarcasm.

“He apologized. We moved forward.”

“I too apologized.”

“And I’m lying here in your bed. What more do you want, Asad?”