It was a very sharp distinction. One was a reaction fueled by emotion, the other by logic. Whatever else it had been, their joining had not been logical. It had been decidedly out of control and that was something her husband guarded fiercely against. Tonight, at the party, she'd overheard people discussing his reputation of icy control in the most stressful circumstances.
Except, with her, he'd always been fire and heat.
The bruised bloom in her heart unfurled into full flower at the revelation that her husband was truly not indifferent to her. The hope she'd felt the night she'dre-alized they'd somehow become a unit, reawakened. She had yet to understand the depth of what Marc felt for her, but it was surely something far more than mere desire.
Perhaps the love in her heart wasn't doomed.
It had taken her a long time to accept that this wild hunter of a man had found a foothold in her soul, but she was a woman who knew herself. Marc Bordeaux was the one. The only one. In her deepest heart, she must've known that when she'd acceded to her father's demands; she was far too smart a woman not to have found a way out if she'd been desperate. She'd been stalling Kerim for months before Marc came on the scene.
Marc shifted on the bed, throwing his arm wide, and she realized he had to be uncomfortable. Experimentally she reached out, undid his bow tie and slipped it off his neck. He didn't react. Emboldened, she managed to get his jacket and shirt off him by moving him around when it didn't seem to wake him. Then, biting her lip, she got rid of his pants and socks, leaving him clad in plain black briefs. Still asleep, he turned over onto his stomach, and she couldn't help stroking his back, his skin hot and vibrant under her fingertips.
A glance at the clock showed that it was 2:00 a.m., but she was hungry, having eaten nothing but hors d'oeuvres since lunch. Carefully covering Mate with a light blanket, she pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck, slipped into his formal white shirt and went down to the kitchen.
Marc chanced opening his eyes after a minute of silence. Groaning, he turned over in an effort to ease the pressure on his rigid arousal. Growing up as he had, never knowing when a vicious blow would shatter his rest, he slept lightly. He'd woken the moment Hira had but had kept his eyes closed, wondering what she'd do. And had learned that being undressed by a naked woman, whose breasts kept teasing you with every movement, was sheer torture.
He hadn't been ready to talk to her, uncertain of her reaction to what had happened between them tonight. Whatever else, she couldn't back away from this inferno. She was no more a trophy wife than he was a prize husband. However, his little deception had had an unexpected side effect.
His chest tightened as he recalled her tender kiss on his nape and the way she'd carefully covered him up. They hadn't been the acts of an angry woman or even a woman who saw him as a duty. It had been care, pure and simple. He'd already known his wife had a big heart from seeing her with the children, but until now he'd never really felt the power of that heart. She'd done little things for him but they were all very wifely things, and he'd thought she felt duty bound to do them. But, tonight...tonight she'd gone far beyond duty.
Throwing off the blanket, he went in search of Hira, finding that he was greedy for her. He located her at the kitchen counter eating a piece of bread slathered with crunchy peanut butter. Her eyes widened at his entrance but he didn't stop, walking around to stand beside her. Leaning down, he bit off the other end of her bread.
She swallowed. "You are hungry, too, husband?"
He nodded. "Why did you put on a shirt to come down?"
Taking another bite, she offered him more. He took it, demolishing almost the entire remainder. She waited and fed him that last bit before turning to get another slice from the loaf at her elbow. It was another small example of her inherently generous nature.
"Because it would be immodest to walk around unclothed." With efficient movements, she spread peanut butter on the bread.
"But it's only us." He moved closer, rubbing her cheek with his knuckles, daring to display the affection that had changed his view of himself. "Come on, I dare you to take it off."
A soft smile on her lips, she raised the hand holding the piece of bread to his mouth. After a bite, he nudged her hand back to her own mouth. She took a small bite and chewed. Then, a smile flirting with her lips, she asked, "Why are you in such a mood?"
"Let's see, I had amazing sex with my wife a few hours ago and, since she doesn't appear to be holding my somewhat Neanderthal behavior against me, I'm raring to go again and I was hoping to create some sexy atmosphere. How's that?" He allowed her to feed him again. "Humor me."
She smiled and blushed. "But-"
"If we can't be free with each other, who can we be free with?" Even as he said it, he realized that it applied to more than sexual exploration. He'd never truly trusted anyone and he badly wanted to trust his wife.
She handed him the slice of bread. Then, nibbling at her lush lower lip, she lifted her hands to the buttons of his dress shirt. His eyes were riveted to those elegant fingers. She undid the first button. He took a deep breath. She did the second one. He groaned.
"Faster, cher." He wanted to reach out and haul her to his chest, but no way was he going to interrupt this very private show.
"What would be the fun in that?" Her question held teasing laughter, and the look in her tawny eyes said she was enjoying herself.
"Did I indicate this was supposed to be fun for you?" He fed her a bite from the remaining bread. "This is sexual gratification for me alone."
"Is that so?" Another button. The valley between her breasts was a shadowed treasure, the softness of her belly a silky plain for his exploration. "What if I wish for some gratification, too?"
"You can have it later. After I'm done." Finishing off the bread, he stood there, completely concentrating on her.
She laughed, the sound husky and intimate, and released the last button. The darkness between her thighs was an invitation he gladly took, cupping her gently. Sighing, she leaned closer. With a single lithe movement of her shoulders, the shirt went to the floor.
He ran his hand up from her heat to flatten over her stomach. "Damn, you're lovely." Her face fell. "No," he ordered. "None of that. Sure, your body is hot, but you know what makes you perfect?"
She shook her head slowly, wary eyes holding a vulnerability that made him want to cherish her forever.
"The fact that you adore my body despite my scars, say yes to playing with me at this ridiculous hour even after the stunt I pulled tonight, and have peanut butter stuck to your bottom lip."
Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide. He pulled the hand off and licked the spot off. "Yum."
She giggled and stepped back. As he watched, she put her finger in the peanut butter jar and dabbed a spot on her lip again. Surprised, he leaned forward and licked it off. Her hand went to her breasts and each nipple was coated.
"You sure know how to gratify this man." First, he sucked the finger she held out to him, cleaning it off. Then he made slow work of each morsel, his hands stroking her bottom. When he stood to his full height again, it was to face a woman with a passion-soft face, eyes heavy-lidded and a sweet, sexy smile on her lips. Reaching out a hand, she traced the shape of his mouth.
"Still hungry?" Her voice was a husky whisper.
"A little." He backed her up until her bottom hit the edge of the counter. Then he lifted, setting her down on die marble. She spread her legs and he stood between them. Reaching to the right, he found the squeezable bottle of honey that was one of her favorite treats. Grinning, he held it up. "Want to play some more?"
Her eyes widened. "Husband, you are bad." An inviting look appeared on her face. "I love honey."