Surgeon Prince, Cinderella Bride

by Ann Mcintosh

  * * *

  Why did he hate hearing her speak about returning to Canada? It wasn’t as though he didn’t know she was eventually going and, in fact, he was glad it was still foremost in her mind. In some ways he felt they were getting too close, speaking about subjects close to their hearts, while the way he really wanted to get intimate with her seemed unlikely to happen.

  He wanted her in his bed, not his head. And definitely not in his heart.

  Sara went quiet, not looking at him, and in the soft candlelight and moonlight it was impossible to read her expression.

  Instead of trying to engage her, Farhan let his mind wander.

  What she’d said about his father still nagged at him.

  She’d been able to imagine the turmoil the child, suddenly second in line to an unwanted throne, must have felt. How the enmity of those around him, along with how busy his father had been while putting the country to rights, must have affected him, scarred him in a fundamental way.

  It certainly explained his distance and sternness, and the obsession with the missing Bhaskar, which had set Farhan and Sara on this strange path together. What else about his father, who Farhan had often thought of as a cypher, could that explain?

  Recalling the conversation that had led to her comment just made his blood boil all over again. Her grandmother had treated her abominably, yet Sara had held no grudge. Indeed, she was actively involved in the old woman’s care, and he remembered her even feeding her at dinner while the rest of the family did nothing to help.

  Sara was so giving. Too giving. Was she still trying to prove her worth to her family, and now to the people of Kalyana? She’d been distressed by people requesting her patronage for various charities and causes, asking his advice.

  “Anyone who approaches you directly, tell them to send an official request, in writing, outlining the work the charity does, and the role they envision you playing, along with last year’s financial statement. I’ll get Seth to collate it all, as well as doing due diligence to make sure they’re above board, then you can decide.”

  “But I won’t be here very long, Farhan. I don’t want to accept a role I won’t be able to fulfill in the future.”

  “Then don’t accept any of them,” he’d said, in what he’d thought was a reasonable response, but Sara had just looked more distressed.

  “But I want to help,” she’d said softly.

  They’d talked about it some more, without being able to come to a firm decision, but it was so clear to him: Sara would give everything to everyone around her, perhaps to her own detriment.

  Dinner finished, he suggested a walk on the beach, but she declined.

  “I—I think I’d prefer to stay u-up here,” she stammered, and he saw a blush rise to her cheeks. It sharpened his focus, had him drawing closer to her so as to see the expression in her eyes.

  And when she twined her arms around his neck and tilted her face up to his, his body reacted with a surge of arousal so strong he was instantly hard.

  “May I kiss you?” she asked, her voice breathless, a little unsure.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FARHAN’S EXPRESSION CYCLED from surprise to desire in a tick of a heartbeat.

  Then his mouth was on hers, the kiss urgent, compelling her lips to open instinctively, a moan rising in her throat as her insides melted, lust flashing out like a wildfire.

  With the last of her functioning brain she gave thanks that he hadn’t asked for an explanation, hadn’t made her tell him why she’d had this abrupt change of heart.

  From the moment they’d met the attraction she felt was more intense than she’d ever imagined possible, and it had only grown stronger with each passing day.

  He was only hers for a little while. So much time had already gone by. This was her opportunity to do exactly what she’d secretly hoped all her adult life.

  Share herself, on the most intimate level, with someone she cared about. It didn’t matter if he didn’t care as much.

  This was for her.

  Farhan pulled her closer, and she let her hands roam his back, the thin linen of his kurta doing nothing to stop her from tracing the muscles but annoying her nonetheless.

  She wanted to feel his bare skin, learn, once and for all, if it was as smooth as it looked.

  Pressed against his chest, she wallowed in the exquisite sensations turning her insides to lava, burning for him in a way she’d never thought herself capable of. This level of want, of sheer unadulterated need, was beyond her wildest imaginings, but it didn’t frighten her at all. If anything, it only made her more determined to take this moment to the ultimate conclusion.

  How could she live with herself after she left Kalyana if all she took with her were regrets rather than beautiful memories?

  Memories of making love with Farhan.

  Farhan lifted his head and she stood on tiptoes, trying to re-establish the kiss.

  “Wait.” It was a growl, the strain in his voice so obvious she shivered with the knowledge she affected him that way. “Sara, you have to tell me when to stop. I want you so badly, you’ll have to tell me if I go too far.”

  Her heart, already racing, seemed to trip over itself, and she swallowed to clear her throat before she could reply.

  “I’ll tell you, Farhan.”

  But she had no intention of telling him to stop. She wanted to experience everything he could give.

  Leading him upstairs to her bedroom didn’t seem too daunting; knowing what to do when they got there was another thing altogether.

  Thankfully, Farhan took over, pulling her back into his arms as soon as the door closed behind them.

  “Sara.” Her name sounded like a benediction when he said it. “Beautiful.”

  Her knees weakened, her body tightening in anticipation as he found her lips once more.

  Then they were on the bed, still fully clothed, and she lost herself in the wonder of his kisses again.

  Yet eventually she realized he wasn’t taking it any further. Not that kissing him wasn’t thrilling, but she wanted more.

  And realized she was going to have to ask for it.

  She didn’t know the words. Didn’t know how people navigated situations like this. But if she wanted to make love with Farhan, she was going to have to put her shyness and fear aside, and let him know.

  They were lying side by side, one of his hands on her ribcage, the other lost somewhere among the pillows. Would it be enough to simply shift his hand up to cover her breast?

  That would be a small step, and she wasn’t in the mood for those.

  Before he realized what she was about to do, she rolled away from him and sat up.

  She heard his indrawn breath, felt him run a finger gently down her back.

  No doubt he thought she was putting a halt to their lovemaking and, for a moment, she froze, terrified by what she was planning to do.

  She got up off the mattress, and turned to face him, and the sight of him stole her breath, had shivers of lust coursing down her spine. His hair was mussed from her fingers running through the strands, his eyes still dark with passion, his lips soft from her kisses. It felt so right to see him in her bed, one leg bent so the foot was flat on the mattress, the other canted to one side, his erection clearly delineated beneath his clothing.

  She reached for the side zipper of her dress and it was then she realized her fingers were shaking, but she willed them to get the simple chore done.

  His gaze followed the motion of her hand as she tugged the zipper down to her hip, then snapped up to her face as she slid her arms out of the dress, letting it fall to the carpet.

  Her toes curled at his expression, her temperature skyrocketing at the mingled shock and need on his face.

  “Sara...”

  It was a warning and an invitation, all in one, but she ignored the former,
knowing it was the latter that was important.

  You can do this, Sara.

  But her fingers weren’t just shaking, they were also ice cold as she reached back to unclip her bra. When her breasts swung free, she gasped, heat suffusing her chest and face at exposing her body to him so boldly.

  Suddenly she realized she didn’t know what to do next. Just the thought of taking off her panties froze her in place, and she only just stopped herself from crossing her arms over her chest.

  And there was nowhere to run. This was, after all, her room.

  Farhan sat up. Then he pulled off his shirt, and Sara’s breath caught deep in her chest at how gorgeous he was.

  Holding out his hand, he said, “Come here, beautiful.”

  And all her fear and trepidation disappeared as she went to him.

  There was something dreamlike in how Farhan touched her; the slow drag of his fingers over her skin, the play of his mouth on hers. Although she’d clearly shown him she was ready, no, eager for his possession, he was in no rush to get there.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured into her flesh, and she didn’t know whether he was using it as a proper noun—his nickname for her—or an adjective, and didn’t care. She was too lost in these new, entrancing sensations to worry about it.

  His fingers stroked over her breasts, bringing her nipples to tight oversensitive peaks, his lips dipped from her mouth to her throat. Her body bowed, arousal pulling it tighter and tighter.

  “Beautiful.”

  When the tip of his tongue swirled around her nipple, Sara whimpered, her fingers finding the back of his head to hold him in position, loath to let him stop the sweet torture.

  But he had just begun to introduce her to the world of passion, and each touch and lick and kiss ushered her into new realms of desire.

  His lips on the inside of her elbow, his mouth on her stomach. Neither of these were actions she would have associated with the act of sex, or with foreplay. In life outside these four walls, she never would’ve considered they could make her body twist with wanton need.

  Yet when Farhan kissed from her shoulder to her wrist, her rushed breathing hitched, and she pressed her thighs together, the ache between them building toward unbearable.

  The heat of his mouth on her breast, the sweet drag of his palm on its mate brought her back off the mattress, little cries of sweet, agonizing craving breaking, unfettered, from her lips.

  Then he moved lower, and she trembled at the slow, concentrated flicking of his tongue, as it traced back and forth over her abdomen.

  “Farhan...” she whispered, her throat too dry to allow anything louder.

  He lifted his head, and in the darkness of his gleaming eyes she saw a hint of the pleasure to come.

  “Is this enough, beautiful? Do you want me to stop?”

  If he stopped now, she might lose her sanity.

  “No. No.”

  His face tightened, became almost feral, and her heart rejoiced to see it.

  “How much further do you want me to go, Sara? I need to know.”

  She understood. He was asking how much restraint he needed to build up. It made her adore him even more, knowing he would go as far as she said and no further, regardless of his own needs.

  It gave her the courage to say what she truly wanted, out loud, making it clear to them both.

  “I want to make love with you,” she said.

  And there wasn’t even a hint of a stutter in her voice.

  He gazed at her for a long moment, the air between them heavy with passion, and then he said, “I want to make love with you too, but my initial promise still stands. If you want to stop, at any point, tell me.”

  Unable to resist, she reached down and cupped his face, curling down so as to kiss him, long and deep.

  “I won’t change my mind,” she murmured against his lips. “I want you so badly, I’m burning up inside.”

  His lips curled into a smile as she lay back down, and he replied, “I’m glad, for I feel the same way. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

  Rising quickly, he strode to the connecting door between their rooms, but was gone only for a minute. When he returned, it was to toss a small, foil-wrapped package onto the nightstand, and Sara mentally kicked herself for not thinking of protection first. Thank goodness one of them had the presence of mind to do so.

  Lying back down in the same position he’d been in before, Farhan dipped his head to kiss a slow trail down her belly and then around her navel, Sara’s entire body trembled with delightful anticipation. Rising to his knees, he traced a finger across the top of her panties.

  “May I?”

  She lifted her hips in reply, although a fresh wave of trepidation washed over her skin.

  Farhan eased her last garment away, his fingers caressing her legs. Lifting her left leg, he kissed her ankle, stroking his tongue across the sensitive skin beneath her medial malleolus. Up her leg that sinful mouth travelled, until he was at her knee. Then he turned his attention to her other leg, repeating every enticing action.

  Suddenly Sara realized her feet were on his shoulders, her previously most private flesh fully open to his view.

  Even if she were inclined to feel self-conscious, Farhan’s avid expression would have swept the emotion away.

  “I want to taste you.”

  It was statement and question rolled into one, and Sara replied by spreading her thighs a little wider, placing her hand on her belly, inviting him to take whatever he wanted.

  He swooped down, and Sara cried out at the intensity of feelings bombarding her system, the unbelievable sensory overload. Her body shook, strung tight with lust from just the first touch of his tongue, his lips. Farhan held her hips, slowing his tender assault, taking her higher and higher, easing her toward an indefinable golden moment she could sense nearing. Her thighs tightened around his head, as she strained to reach that final glorious treasure.

  “Easy,” he murmured, not lifting his head, so that the word itself pulled her a little closer. “Relax, beautiful. Let it happen.”

  She wanted it, the orgasm tempting her beyond reason, but, lost in a maze of previously unknown physical delight, something held her back. Fear, carnal excess, inexperience, she didn’t know which, but whatever it was, it was driving her slowly crazy.

  “Farhan, please. Help me.”

  He growled, a low sound of need as great as her own, and his hands tightened fractionally.

  “Do you trust me, Sara?”

  How could he ask such a thing at a time like this? But she was compelled to whimper, “Yes.”

  “Then let me love you, beautiful. Let me make this good for you.”

  Opening her eyes, she looked down at him, his handsome face bracketed by her thighs, and the sight made her gasp. It was so intimate, reflecting a physical closeness she’d never shared with anyone before, and somehow it both increased her arousal and loosened her muscles.

  Because it was Farhan. The only man she’d ever wanted this way. The only one she’d trust with her body, and knew she’d never regret doing so.

  “Good,” he growled and then, as she watched, he flicked her with the tip of his tongue.

  And she exploded into ecstasy.

  * * *

  Sara’s sweet cries of release echoed through Farhan’s blood, pushing his own almost painful desire even higher.

  Her gorgeous body twisted as he kept her orgasm going, not stopping until she pushed his head away. Then he covered her trembling flesh with his hand, gentling her until her breathing settled slightly, and her muscles started to relax.

  But he didn’t want her completely satiated, not if she’d meant it when she’d said she wanted to make love with him.

  No. He wanted her as ravenous for him as he was for her.

  He quickly divested himself of his remainin
g garments, and moved up to hold her. Yet, even in the tender moment, he let his hands keep touching her, finding the places that had made her gasp with desire before, slowly rousing her back to a state of need.

  He craved her kisses, took her mouth over and over. Then he moved to her sensitive neck, kissing, nibbling, licking, until those sweet little gasps and moans rang out again.

  He didn’t want to hurt her. That was his one worry. Her inexperience was there, hovering in the back of his mind, even as his carnal self fought for supremacy, urging him to take her hard and fast.

  Sara may be the true virgin, but in a way he felt like one as well, having never had a virgin in his bed. It filled him with a kind of masculine pride he’d never have credited himself with being in possession of, but also weighed him down with a sense of responsibility too.

  Sensing it was time, and even after rolling on the condom, Farhan still hesitated. Eventually it was Sara who pulled him close, wrapping her strong legs around him and rolling so he lay atop her, perfectly positioned.

  “Wait,” he growled, his body tense with the drive to thrust into her. “I want to be sure—”

  “I’m sure,” she replied, her voice strained, passion-drunk. “I can’t wait anymore. Please.”

  He tried to go slowly, every muscle locked, tenderness his touchstone. But the sublime encounter was also an irrevocable one, and they both knew it. Her eyes were open, looking up into his, and although he wanted to close his in rising ecstasy, he kept his gaze locked on hers, searching for any hint of pain or uncertainty.

  There was none.

  She welcomed him into her body, accepted him, just as his heart had welcomed and accepted her advent into his life.

  The knowledge fired through him, rendering the moment sweeter, hotter, with an edge of incipient pain he didn’t know how to process.

  Holding still to allow her body time to accept his, he watched her eyes flutter closed, even as her hips shifted restlessly beneath his. Still he didn’t move, caught in the transcendent intimacy. Sara’s gorgeous neck was arched, her face was flushed and damp, her lips slightly parted, the breath rushing between them.