Darker Side of Desire & the Sheikh's Pregnant Prisoner(56)

His actions and his commitment to her and their child meant more than anything to her. The tenderness in his eyes when he glanced at her growing bump meant more than words.

But, her mind being the only place she had any sort of privacy left in her new life, she retreated to it often and there was no hiding from truth.

She had fallen in love with him. And the realization didn’t come about like a flash of lightning like she had always imagined.

It crept up on her in the middle of a small gathering, one she’d had Abdul arrange, in cahoots with a reluctant Arif and Farrah, Ahmed and Huma and a few other staff that she’d been told had a friendly relationship with Zafir.

The small gathering waited in her quarters, both awkward and excited.

Please don’t be distant, she’d been muttering to herself. Please don’t let this be a horrible idea that only pains him more.

And then there he was pushing the wide doors open and striding inside with that prowling gait and they were all yelling, “Surprise!”

Thunder danced in his gaze.

The cheers they had practiced went from excited to a stunned silence as Zafir searched the crowd, his gaze still serious.

Finally, it fell on her.

Pulse thudding, somehow Lauren had covered the little distance between them.

Still, he stared at her, shock set into his features. “I was told you needed my attention urgently.”

She didn’t care for his tone. “I made sure it wasn’t some super important meeting that we interrupted.”

“But you made me think something had happened. To you.”

“Oh…but, you can see, I’m fine.” She rose up on her toes and kissed his unshaven cheek. Felt his lean frame tremble under her. “Happy birthday, Zafir.”

His fingers snuck into her hair and pulled her closer.

Arabic fell from his mouth, like a clap of thunder. Within minutes, the room cleared out, leaving just them.

Stunned, Lauren turned back, swatted Zafir in the shoulder. “How could you?”

“Easily. I’m their sheikh.”

She pouted. “They all wanted to wish you happy birthday and I’ll have you know I went to a lot of trouble. It’s not easy planning a surprise party for the man who has—”

She never finished her sentence because he picked her up. Her hands went around his nape, her heart thudded but she tried to keep the smile from her mouth.

“I wanted to be alone with my wife,” he growled then.

Long strides carried her past the sitting area to the bedroom. He put her down on the bed with a tenderness that caught her breath. And then his hands were on her bodice. When the silk didn’t cooperate, he ripped it with his hands, pushed away the silk of her bra and closed his abrasive palm against one plump breast.

“Zafir…” She threw her head back and moaned as he buried his mouth in her throat. Traced a searing path down her chest to her breast, licked the engorged tip. “Wait, I…”

“No, no waiting.” Then his mouth closed over her nipple, licking and suckling, and then there were teeth. “Now, habeebti. I need this now.”

A whimper fell from Lauren’s mouth, her spine arching, her body bowing under the pleasure. Pulling her to the edge of the bed, he shoved her dress to her thighs, pulled her panties down and entered her in one long, smooth thrust.

Silk and steel, velvet hardness against wet heat, their bodies built up into a perfect rhythm, beautiful and raw, earthy and something out of this world, at the same time.

With soothing words, he bent her over his arm, and took her breast in his mouth.

Hands in his hair, Lauren rode him shamelessly, shuddering and splintering until they reached the peak together, and crashed down to earth again.

“I can’t believe…” She flushed and hid her damp face in his chest, pulled in a much-needed breath and looked up again. “You were not supposed to do that.”

His thumb brushing her cheek, he frowned down at her. “What? Not touch my lovely wife on my birthday?”

“No, turn the evening into…this. I mean, yes, but we could have waited.”

“And you know when it comes to you and being inside of you,” he said, nibbling at her throat again, “that I can never wait.”

Looking down, she flushed, and held the edges of her torn bodice up. “I wanted to spend an evening with you. Outside of bed.” It was hard to sound miffed when he looked at her with such hunger in his eyes. “Talk about what’s going on with you and such. I know the weight of Behraat lies on your shoulders, but I…”

“What?”

“We see each other at those ghastly dinners, and then you make love to me in the dark of the night. It feels like… I’m trying so hard not be a petulant wife, Zafir… I… If there’s something on your mind, about us, or anything else, I have a right to know.”

Shielding his gaze away from her, Zafir tucked her head under his chin and held her tight. His heart still thudded from the fact that she’d arranged a party for him. “Lauren…you’re so much more than I ever expected to have as a wife, habeebti.” This, as he was learning every day with her, was the absolute truth. “As predictable as it sounds, I’ve just been busy, preoccupied.”

“Okay,” she said readily enough but Zafir wasn’t sure she was convinced.

How had one small manipulation become such an impenetrable wall between them, he wondered. How had giving them both what they wanted turned into this ever-growing chasm?

What the hell was wrong with him that he had everything he had ever wanted and he was playing with it like this? He knew, even as he acted contrary to it, that Lauren would never let him put her in one safe compartment, just because he didn’t like himself very much right now.

This wallowing was a weakness.

A weakness that made him look away from her, that made him shudder at what he spied in her eyes. That made him wish he was anything but who he was.

And that was the kind of useless, helpless thinking that he despised the most.

That made her doubt that he was not happy with her, when she was the one perfect thing he’d ever held in his life, was unacceptable.

He had no reason to be not happy.

Shoving away the lead weight in his gut, he moved back from her, grabbed a cashmere wrap from the bottom of the bed and slowly wrapped it around her.

When she looked down, she was frowning, thoughtful.

And he felt a flicker of fear unlike he had ever known. Not even when he’d thought Tariq would execute him had it clawed through him with such intensity.

He took her hands in his and pulled her off the bed. “I shouldn’t have ruined your plans, yes. You have cake, I presume?” he said, smiling.

Whatever doubts she’d had earlier, her gaze was clear now. And a little naughty as she raised her brows. “I had it flown in from a bakery in New York. German chocolate.” She laced her fingers with him and tugged him. “You might feel faint once you taste it, so hold on tight to me.”

He burst out laughing and went willingly. “Now I get it. This whole party was a ruse. You just wanted cake from New York,” he teased.

Eyes glinting like the brightest opals, she smiled. “Okay, you caught me. But believe me, you’ve not had cake like this, Zafir.”

He let her voice wash over him as she extolled the life-affirming virtues of delicious cake. Joy and fear were both his in that moment.

This woman could calm him and excite him, drench him in warmth just as easily as she undid him. And there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t lose her and stay the same, he knew with a certainty that made his gut twist hard.

She hummed “Happy Birthday” while he cut the cake and then brought a small piece to his mouth. He licked at her finger, the action instinctive, his need for her as natural as breathing and ever-present.

Pink tinged her cheeks but she pulled away. She served two pieces, handed him silverware and ordered him to pour coffee for both of them.

Took one bite of the cake between those imperfectly wide lips and moaned so sensually that he was instantly hard.

He took a bite himself and smiled. “How do I compete with cake?”

* * *

Zafir and she had just finished their coffee when his phone rang. About to complain that he’d promised her an uninterrupted evening, she caught the words just in time when she saw his expression.

Pulling the cell phone out, he stared at it. And then he clicked it on.

She saw shuddering shock, and relief and such pain in it that she reached for him instantly.

So much emotion, such anguish cloaked his features that looked as if they’d been carved into that mold. “Zafir? What’s wrong?”

Slowly, his gaze focused on her. As if he had been far, far away from her. “My father…he is awake. And asking for me.” His tone had a tremor in it.

“Six years… The last time I saw him, he’d declared to the council that I was his heir. He and Tariq were arguing, screaming, threatening each other. And when Tariq left with a murderous glance at the both of us and my father turned to me, I told him I despised him. That I’d been better off as an orphan. And the next evening, he was found collapsed in his room. His food was poisoned.”

“Oh… Zafir…”

She wrapped her hands around his nape and pulled him down to her level. Slowly, softly, she kissed him, pouring everything she felt for him. Leaning her forehead against his, Lauren clasped his cheeks. “Are you afraid?”