His hand stilled, then withdrew. "You're quite right," he said coolly. "Wise of you to remind me of that. Like most men, I find that lust totally disables my brain."
"The same thing happened to me," she said in a small voice. "Another of my hopelessly unladylike traits."
Once more she felt Ross's tension ease. "That's one of the things I've always liked about you," he remarked. "Your directness is a double-edged sword, but I find that preferable to the flirtatiousness which some women use to baffle men."
She was glad to hear that there was something he liked about her besides her body. Not that she objected to his finding her attractive, in spite of the complications that passion was causing. After years of being the asexual, forceful Gul-i Sarahi, it was deeply rewarding to feel like a woman, and to know that she could still attract a man. Especially this man.
They lay in silence together, relaxed if not precisely comfortable. Though desire was unacceptable, Juliet savored his closeness. But it wouldn't last much longer. The wind was dying down and soon they would have to return to their usual roles, their usual distance.
When the wail of the storm faded to the soft soughing sound of "the wind of a hundred days," Ross removed his arm from Juliet's waist. Knowing that time had run out, she said hesitantly, "Even though I felt like a fool, it's fortunate that this happened. Now that the air has been cleared and we've openly acknowledged that there is a... a lingering attraction, it should be easy to deal with."
"I'm glad you think so," Ross said after a long silence. His voice was very dry. "The storm seems to have blown itself out. Shall we see what the outside world looks like?"
He pulled back the mantle, spilling rivulets of fine sand from every wrinkle and fold of the fabric. Darkness had fallen, but the sky was clear and a waxing moon cast ethereal light over the pale, voluptuously curving dunes. The temperature had dropped considerably and the fresh night air felt wonderful after the cramped confines of their makeshift shelter.
Drawing a deep, deep breath, Juliet rolled onto her back and stretched her cramped limbs to their full length. "Desert stars are magnificent," she said as she gazed up into the velvet darkness. "I never tire of looking at them."
More concerned with the mundane than the celestial, Ross had pushed himself to a sitting position and was studying their surroundings. "A good thing that I have my compass, or we might be using those stars to find our way back to camp. The storm has changed the contours of the dunes so much that it would be easy to get lost."
"At least there's no rush. We'll be starting late tomorrow morning because it will take hours to locate all of the objects that have been buried by the storm."
Juliet was about to sit up when Ross glanced down at her. The pale moonlight was just strong enough to sketch the classic perfection of his features.
"So convenient that we have both acknowledged that foolish lingering attraction," he murmured as he lifted one hand and traced the contours of her face. The faint roughness of his fingertips was delicately erotic as he skimmed the curve of her cheek and brushed lightly over her lips.
She caught her breath, wanting to tell him that this was not wise, but before she could speak, he leaned over and kissed her with deep, commanding sensuality. The desire Juliet had banked earlier flared like fresh-sparked tinder and she welcomed his mouth with a hunger that shocked her. It was an embrace such as she had forgotten, or perhaps not dared to remember.
She slid her arms around Ross's chest and drew him down on her, wanting contact with all of him. He came without breaking the kiss, enfolding her with his strength. Shamelessly she rolled her hips against him, and the pressure of his hard body gave her a fleeting satisfaction that was immediately consumed by rising need.
As she moved against him, he gave a long, shuddering gasp. Then he pulled the tagelmoust down, baring her throat. As he kissed the sensitive skin revealed, the masculine prickle of whiskers made a sweet, rasping contrast to the searing heat of his lips and tongue.
His hand slid to her breast and she arched against his palm, hating the layers of robe and the binding vest that separated her from his magical touch. Her breath frantic, she ground her body against his, on the verge of culminating but wanting more than anything on earth to share that fulfillment with him.
Then, shockingly, he was gone, leaving only the cool night against her fevered flesh. The loss was devastating.
Frightened and confused, her limbs shaking with frustration, Juliet opened her eyes to find Ross standing above her, his broad shoulders blocking the stars and his chest heaving with strain.
Yet in spite of his agitation, when he spoke it was in a voice whose irony had been refined to saber sharpness. "As you pointed out, now that our inconvenient attraction is out in the open, it is wonderfully easy to deal with. Aren't we fortunate?"