Seduced by the Sultan(27)
‘I THOUGHT I told you not to wait up for me.’
From his half-reclining position on the bed, Murat glanced up from the papers he’d been working on, to see Cat framed in the doorway of their bedroom. Her dark hair was piled into a thick twist on top of her head and her cheeks were flushed from the long bath she had insisted on taking, leaving him in the unfamiliar position of waiting. A short, towelling robe was knotted tightly around her narrow waist and her legs gave off a silky sheen of newly moisturised skin. And she still looked angry.
His papers forgotten, he leaned back against the pillows. ‘Did you really think that I’d be able to go to sleep after what’s just happened?’
She shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Your current behaviour is something of a mystery to me, but that won’t be my problem after this weekend is over.’
She walked over to one of the drawers and Murat watched as she pulled out one of the nightgowns she usually only wore whenever they were travelling. There was a brief flash of flesh as the towelling robe was swiftly replaced by the slither of creamy silk and lace as she pulled the gown over her head.
‘You don’t usually wear anything in bed,’ he observed.
She straightened up and looked at him. ‘Ah, but these are not usual times, Murat. Even you must realise that.’ Pulling the pins from her hair, she went to turn off the light, but he shook his head.
‘No. Don’t put the light out.’
‘It’s late.’
‘I know what time it is.’
She pulled back the duvet. ‘I hate to disappoint you, but I’m still not in the mood for sex.’
‘No.’ And the strange thing was that neither was he. Oh, he was aroused just from looking at her, that much was a given. He could feel the heavy beat of desire as she climbed into bed beside him. But he recognised that having sex now would somehow be inappropriate, like going out to dinner and discovering you’d forgotten to put your trousers on. Too much had been left unsaid. There was too much distance between them. Her body language was unfamiliarly cool. And it was funny...but when you took sex out of the equation, it forced you to look at a situation with a new and disturbing clarity.
With a start he realised just how much he took her for granted. How he always expected her to be instantly acquiescent whenever he arrived back in London. Always smiling. Always scented. Eagerly opening her arms and her thighs for him. Letting him rip the exquisite lingerie from her body before ravishing her. Because that was how women had always allowed him to behave. How they wanted him to behave. Indeed, it seemed to feed into the fantasises of most women to discover just how sexually masterful he could be. He had grown up in a macho culture where the wishes of men reigned supreme and he’d certainly never come up against any opposition to that viewpoint from the opposite sex.
She was the perfect mistress, of course she was, because she completely sublimated herself to his desires and wishes. Yet while that had always been immensely satisfactory, wasn’t this new and unpredictable Cat making his heart race in an unexpectedly powerful way?
He placed his papers on the bedside table and turned to look at her. Her eyes were tightly closed and for a moment he almost smiled at the fierce look of determination on her face. ‘Look at me,’ he said.
‘I don’t want to look at you. I’m still angry with you.’
‘I know you are—and I recognise that you have a right to be. I should have spoken to you about what was happening and I think we both know why I didn’t. But we’ve discussed that and we can’t go back and change it.’ His voice lowered. ‘And I’m wondering if we’re going to waste our last weekend together fighting?’