The Sheikh’s Bargain Bride(38)
He sighed, a deep contented sigh that said more to her than words could ever do. They were alone, with the future ahead of them, and all before them. They were so strong together. She stretched out her legs and curled them on top of his as if his body were hers. Nothing could break this bond. Nothing. She tilted her head upwards, leaning against his shoulder and heard the fire hiss as a flame worried a piece of resiny wood and the light flickered across the ceiling above.
“Thank you for today. It meant everything to me. It was just lovely.”
“It was you that made it lovely. Not me. It’s you that makes these things happen, makes them work, makes them complete.”
The words came straight from his heart, she could feel it in the timbre of his voice and in the simplicity of his words. Whenever he said anything that was important he phrased it in the most simple terms. And that was him, she thought. Honest, upright. A “good” man all right. Someone who could be trusted with anything. Perhaps even the truth. Except he didn’t want to know the truth about Abduallah.
She shifted. “Zahir. About Abduallah, I—”
He frowned. “You don’t need to tell me anything. I told you once that my memory of Abduallah, as he was and what he stood for, is important to me.”
“But—”
He hushed her with his finger before it traced her lips. “But, nothing. All I need to know is here, in the lines of your body, the curve of your lips. I don’t need to know anything more. He kissed her hair. “I trust you, Anna, like I’ve never trusted anyone before.”
And she could see it in his eyes. They were naked, undefended for the first time ever. But still, deep inside of her, there was a wavering, flickering fear that refused to be extinguished.
He kissed her, stilling her mind, pushing the fear down, until she had no more thought of it. Like everything else he did, his mind was completely focused on her, his lips moved over hers with power and passion but this time with also an exquisite gentleness that was more mind-blowing than anything that went before.
She opened her mouth under his and he pulled away and touched her lips, his finger tracing around her mouth before her lips came around his finger and her tongue swept its length. She watched his eyes darken as they focused on her lips. He slowly withdrew his finger and kissed her again with the same intensity of focus but deeper, more strongly now.
Slowly he pushed the buttons of her shirt through each hole, taking time after each one, to pull the shirt open wider and drop a kiss on each newly revealed inch of skin.
He smiled, as if presented with a feast, as he pushed open the undone shirt and he descended once more, his lips trailing kisses over her stomach and up to her bra. He kissed her breasts over the bra, making no move to undo it. His tongue followed the curve of the top of the satin. Her heart thudded in her chest. His hands pinned her down so she couldn’t move. It was the most exquisite torture. She wanted to respond. She tried to shift her legs, her hips, but he sat down lightly on top of her so she couldn’t move. Then he very slowly unclipped her bra and gently nudged the flimsy piece of white satin aside.
Her breasts rose and fell with her uneven breathing, her pale nipples rising taut with expectation. The slow smile descended first upon one and then the other. A delicate nip and a long slow suckle before moving on to the other. The tension of his touch deepened inside her, stirring and tugging as if she were caught in a web of desire along which the slightest of movement created corresponding ripples that amplified the original stimulation.
She lifted her head to his but he merely moved back, smiling. “No, habibi, lay back. I want to make love to you.”
She melted at his words. They’d had plenty of sex but this was the first time those words had crossed his lips. And she wanted to be made love to—more than anything. So she lay, like an adored puppet, as he pulled her strings, bringing her to life with his lips, his touch.
He shifted down, pushing away her clothes, a little more quickly now, she noticed, as his own control began to slip. And his lips descended to her thighs, caressing them with a feeling that communicated itself through every single nerve ending in her body.
She fell back into a blissful half-state of submission to the shivers of desire that ran through her body and that absorbed every thinking part of her brain. There was only sensation now, and Zahir. The two were inextricably linked. They moved as one as Zahir created magic with his mouth and tongue that, with each touch shot her further to a place that had less connection with the physical and more with the emotional.
It spiraled quickly and, as she gripped his shoulders her cries filled the room. Only then did he rise, satisfied. With his characteristic minimal, effective movement, he turned and tore off his tie and slipped off his jacket and shed the remainder of his clothes.