The Sheikh’s Bargain Bride(29)

“Haven’t you had enough for one night woman?”

“No. And nor have you apparently.” She marveled at his rigid thickness that she held in her hand. It echoed the shape of his body: thick and strong and full of a simmering passion that needed only her touch to kick into life.

Her naked breasts peaked with the chill of the morning air—and desire—and she wriggled closer to him until the heat that rolled off his body completely enveloped her and she sighed. She moved her hand up his body, over his hard-toned muscles and chest until her hand lay briefly over his heart. She wriggled closer again until her head lay against his chest and she could both feel and hear the quickened thud of his heart pushing the blood to where he needed it most.

She reached over to the box of condoms and smoothly rolled one onto him before sliding one leg around him. Lying on top of him, her body tight against his, her head against his chest, she was filled with a sense of utter bliss—of warmth and comfort and simple rightness—that shocked her. Quickly she slid down onto him and stopped, watching his face. He watched her through narrowed eyes, the only movement coming from inside her, heightening the sensations that spread deliciously through her body. As she moved slowly, teasingly on him, his face tightened with pleasure. She continued to move on him determined to see him climax as he always did her. But her control was no match for his and the wave after wave of shimmering release hit her before he allowed himself the same release.

She rolled over into his arms, their heads close. She’d never felt so close to anyone in her whole life. And this man was her husband.

She trailed her fingertips along his body and watched the hair follicles rise in response to the light scrape of her nails. She moved and bent down and skimmed her lips along the same trail, kissing the skin, warming it with her breath. The tent was cool in the morning and her breath clouded slightly.

“Anna. I need to tell you something. The first condom, I’m not sure if it protected you. The pressure of the water around us may have made it ineffective.”

Anna didn’t move.

“We risked much last time,” Zahir continued, “thank God nothing came of it.”

She suddenly felt angry. How dare he say that? Matta had come of it and she couldn’t even begin to imagine not wanting Matta.

“And I need to tell you something. I know I should be worried about the risk involved but I can’t be. Because a large part of me—not the practical part that’s for sure—doesn’t want anything to come between us. No barriers, no lies.”

She paused, searching his face for a reaction, but finding only a blank mask that chilled her. “Go on.” His voice, too, was distant now.

“Matta…”

“What about Matta? He’s well isn’t he?”

She nodded. “Of course. I need to tell you that Matta is your son. He was six weeks premature—a difficult pregnancy…”

He continued to look at her but she could see the shock register in his eyes.

“You need to tell me?” His voice was soft, holding within it a violence that frightened her. He turned from her then and shifted away from her awkwardly and sat up, looking away from her.

“I tried to tell you.”

“Obviously not hard enough.”

She reached out to him. “Please, don’t do this. Not after what we have just experienced together. We have a new beginning, a new chance.”

He swung around to face her then. “Based on lies? Anna, have you not understood anything about me and about the code by which I live my life? Lying has no part in it. I have always wanted the truth from you. And you have never given it.” He raked his fingers through his hair, moving away from her again. But she could see the vibration of the low groan filter down his back. He shook his head. “You tell me my nephew is in fact my son—a fact you have kept from me for four years—and think I should forget this small oversight of yours and continue as before?” He shook his head and stared at her. She flinched beneath his icy gaze. “It doesn’t work like that.”

She fell back into bed under the blow of his gaze. She shook her head. “I thought—”

“What exactly did you think?”

“You said that nothing could come between us. You said you wanted to know the truth. I have told you the truth.”

“All of it?”

She couldn’t answer. Because telling the truth about Abduallah would betray his memory and destroy the image of Abduallah that had given Zahir his motivation and rationale all during the war years, and that still lingered now, like a silent sentinel to his heart. One word from her and the sentinel would disappear, destroying the strong, sure lines that delineated Zahir’s world.