Leaning against a pillar at the arched entrance, Azeez was watching her. Dressed in those same loose white pants and a white tunic, he looked like a dark shadow come to life, the expression in his coal-black eyes just as inscrutable.
He scanned her slowly from her feet in cream-colored sandals, upward to where she had cinched the caftan just below her breasts with a wide, jeweled belt, to the V-shaped neckline, threaded with intricate threadwork that was just a little shy of daring, to her mouth, her nose, her eyes and then her hair. Everywhere his gaze moved, she felt touched, she felt branded, she felt possessed.
Black fire blazed into life in those eyes that didn’t miss anything. He took a step toward her, to touching distance. “You look different.” Another devouring, lingering glance. “You dressed up.” He cast a look behind her and took in the elaborate lengths she had gone to. “Are you celebrating something?”
“Thank you for bringing my sisters here. I…”
“I understand perfectly.” He smiled, a flash of raw emotion tingeing it. He looked different, as if there was simmering energy inside him. It lit a fire along her nerves, every cell in her wanting more. “Thank you for being here, Nikhat, today and three days ago and these past weeks. I don’t begrudge you your success or your happiness or whatever it is that you desire.”
“You mean that.”
He laughed at the obvious doubt in her tone. “I do.”
His smile bared his teeth, lit up his face, and the beauty of it stole her breath. His eyes, his mouth, they had been made for laughter. And seeing him like that, it was easy to believe his goodwill. “Was your little jaunt into the desert successful then?”
“Yes.” A fire erupted in his eyes. With that single word, for the first time since she had come back, she believed that the true Azeez was coming back.
She covered the little distance that separated them. Their bodies grazed, their knees bumped and a tightness rendered his features stark. And she recognized the tension in his face for what it was, reveled in the spiral of hunger that ignited in her muscles.
Giving in, she touched him.
It was the lightest of contacts—the pad of her thumb rubbing against his cheek, the heat of his body a beckoning caress. The stubble scraped her palm, the scent of his skin and soap combined tugging at her senses.
His hand moved around her nape, and with sure but infinitesimal strength, he pressed. And every particle of her being gathered behind that small patch of her skin. “You’re playing with fire, Nikhat.” His hand moved to her hip, his fingers branding her skin through the silk. Another thread of her control unraveled.
“I can’t stop, Azeez.”
His palm landed square below her chest, and her heart began a race. “Do not test the breadth of my goodwill, habeeba. I worked very hard to achieve it. If you tempt me today, if you tease me today, I won’t walk away.”
She smiled and, anchoring herself against his arms, pushed herself into his touch. The sharp hiss of his breath felt like music to her ears. “Then don’t. Make love to me, Azeez.”
His jaw tightened like carved stone even as a dark fire glittered in his eyes. He was more than tempted and it fueled her own desire and satisfaction. “I think seeing your sisters has twisted your mind.”
She clasped his jaw with her hands. “On the contrary, visiting with them only helped me see clearly. I want this. I have always wanted this. Only, eight years ago, I never understood this fire between us.”