by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
Warm, strong fingers brushed her flesh as Hassan parted her unbuttoned gown from chin to waist. Her skin, untouched for so long, was sensitive to his gentle touch. It was the kind of caress that could bring tears to her eyes, if she allowed it.
"You are so beautiful, habibti," he whispered, his voice low and deep, soothing and sensual.
"Habibti," she repeated, "What does that mean?"
"Sweetheart." He spread the unfastened gown and gently kissed the hollow of her throat, flicking his tongue there. Her body responded, as it did to all his kisses, with an almost violent intensity. The night air was cool on her bared breasts, but the shiver that worked through her body had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
Hassan touched her, covered her breasts with his hands and ran his fingers over the gentle slope as if he had never caressed a woman before, as if he were learning her curves with the tips of his fingers. Elena closed her eyes and simply felt, savoring the sensation of his hands on her body, marveling in the desire that grew so rapidly within her. Her body throbbed, her bones quivered.
He lifted her into a sitting position, cradling her in his embrace as he slipped the nightgown down her arms. When her shoulders were bared he kissed her there, raking his lips across her skin while one hand worked the nightgown down. He undressed her that way, pushing her nightgown and panties down and off while he continued to hold and kiss her, to taste her flesh and arouse her until she felt like she was on the verge of shattering into a thousand tiny, fragile pieces. She was practically in his lap, their legs intertwined as they sat before the fire.
Elena still knew this was a bad idea, she still feared for her heart. But with that last kiss they had gone too far. There was no turning back, not now. She needed this the way she needed water and breath. She laid her hands on Hassan's face, cradling him in the palms of her hands. She looked him in the eye, feeling brave. Fearless.
"I have never wanted anything the way I want you," she confessed, wonder in her voice. "I've never felt this way."
"I'm glad," Hassan whispered. "I want to be the man who makes you feel in ways you have never felt before." He gently urged her back, until she lay on the rug and he hovered above her, his body long and hard and sheltering, his arms safeguarding her as if he protected her from the stormy night. She had never known physical desire, the craving for a man's body, could be so powerful.
Was it entirely physical? She didn't believe in a love that made the body shake, in one soul recognizing another. She definitely didn't believe in romantic fancies. She hadn't for a very long time. So why was she so worried about this man who could so easily break her heart?
Thoughts of love scared her, and she didn't want to be scared right now. So she dismissed the worries about her heart and concentrated on the sensations in those places where Hassan touched her, where his bare body pressed against hers. His legs against hers, his chest, his arms. His body was hard and warm, all male, and she loved to touch him, to trace the corded muscles and feel his own immediate response. She raked her nose against his neck, and the scent of his flesh reminded her of sex and a forgotten pleasure, nothing more.
Elena closed her eyes and allowed herself to forget everything but the intense response of her body to his. She savored the profound beauty of flesh to flesh, and as Hassan lowered his head to kiss her once again, she marveled in the sensations of his mouth against hers.
He parted her thighs and touched her, and the resulting tremor shot through her body and made her quake deep inside. The quake didn't subside, but grew with every second that passed, every caress, every flick of his tongue against hers, until she ached to have him inside her.
Everything was sharper, clearer. More intense. The air she breathed had a new, fresher sharpness that burned her lungs. The light was surreal, bathing them with its gentle caress. And her body took command, urging her to touch and kiss and caress the body above hers. Urging her to wrap her legs around Hassan's.
Hassan guided himself to her, pressed his erection against her waiting body and slowly pushed to enter. He moved almost languidly, never hurried, never beyond control. With each second that passed, he was deeper inside her. His body rocked, and she began to rock with him, urging him deeper, stretching and opening to take him into her body.
He took his mouth from hers and pushed his body up to look down at her as he began to withdraw and then surged forward to fill her completely. Firelight danced on his body and hers, and the wavering shadows made his face appear harsher than she remembered. And then, a moment later, softer. Sweeter.
He made love to her that way. Harsh and soft and sweet. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. The way his body fit hers was beautiful. As he stroked her, her world narrowed and there was nothing but the heightened stimulation of his body inside hers. She reached for him, with her body and her heart. She closed her eyes and rocked her hips against his, and when he drove deeper than before she shattered, climaxing with a soft cry that broke from her throat. She went over the edge, and Hassan came with her, plunging deep one last time and shuddering above and inside her.
He did not leave her, but lowered his head to her shoulder and rested there. She could not see his face as she threaded her fingers through his hair and found her breath once again.
It had been such a long time since she'd allowed a man to touch her. Such a very long time. Hassan had asked, why him? And she had no answer to that question. Long before they'd kissed, Hassan had touched her in a way no one had, since Johnny's death. He made her feel like a woman, he made her want more from life. And she could deny it all she wanted, but he did touch her guarded heart.
Unwanted, a tear slipped down her cheek. She didn't make a sound, but Hassan somehow sensed her distress and rose up to kiss her mouth and wipe the offensive tear from her face.
"What's wrong?" he whispered.
"Nothing."
"You lie badly," he said, in a tone of voice that made it sound more like a compliment than an insult. "You are thinking of.. .someone else?"
"No," she said quickly.
He brushed a wayward strand of hair away from her face, kissed her again, and whispered, "Johnny?"
She couldn't help it. It was like that single word unleashed a flood. Tears began to fall, her body began to shake. She was seconds away from breaking down, when Hassan took her in his arms and sat up, his back resting against the couch as he gathered her to him. With her head resting on his chest, he comforted her with his hands and his gentle words. Most of the words were in Arabic, but she knew they were as gentle and kind as the others. The tears stopped, the shaking subsided, and Hassan reached out to snag the blanket he had worn around his waist and cover her with it. He stared at the fire and held her close.
"I'm sorry," she said, tilting her head back to look at Hassan's face. "I don't know why..."
He silenced her with a finger over her lips. "There is no need to apologize, habibti. You have a vast woman's heart. You love and grieve deeply, the way a woman should." His finger left her mouth and traced the lines of her face, then the tracks of her dried tears. "I'm glad I was here to hold you while you cried," he said gently. "And I'm very glad I am here to love you."
Her heart lurched. Hassan spoke of physical love, she knew. Nothing more. Nothing sentimental. But with the storm cutting them off from the rest of the world and the fire flickering on a masculine face that was alternately sharp and beautiful, she wished, so much, for there to be more. The realization was startling, since she had given up on more long ago.
* * *
A warm blanket covered them both, as they sat before the fire. Hassan closed his eyes and listened. The storm was dying at last. The rain had almost stopped, though gusts of wind occasionally rocked the house, the last vestiges of a storm that had raged too long.
Elena rested easily in his arms, cuddling against him. Making love to her had been a mistake, he knew, the result of too many days spent wanting her and knowing he could not, should not, have her. But at the moment
it didn't feel like a mistake, not at all. If not for his purpose for coming to Texas, he would think loving Elena was more right than anything he'd ever done.
To dig into her grief now would be wrong in the same way. An emotional connection would complicate matters. And when this was over he didn't want Elena to think he had used her. He was a man who would do whatever was necessary to accomplish his goal.. .but not that. Never that.
Who was he kidding? The emotional connection was already there. It had been almost from the beginning.
"How did Johnny die?" he asked softly.
Elena shuddered and pressed her body more closely to his. "He was murdered," she whispered.
Hassan closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Elena's pain for such a violent loss. "What happened?"
"It was my fault," Elena said, tears in her voice. "We were going to stay at home and watch TV, but I changed my mind and decided I wanted to go to the movie. I just.. .I'm never impulsive, and I wasn't then, but...but there was nothing on television and I decided we should go see the late movie. But neither of us had any cash. I jumped in the shower and sent Johnny to the ATM." She shivered. "I never saw him again."
Elena lifted her head to look at him. "He was robbed and killed at the ATM. It never made any sense to me. The robber was wearing a mask, there was no way Johnny could have identified him. But you can see it all on the security tape. The robber stuck a gun in Johnny's ribs, and Johnny handed over his wallet and the money he'd just taken from the ATM. Forty dollars," she whispered. "He had less than five dollars in his wallet when he left the house, so he was killed for less than forty-five dollars." She shuddered, and Hassan tightened his grasp on her. "The robber had the wallet and the money, and he made Johnny turn around. While Johnny had his back to the thief, the masked man leaned in, whispered something in his ear, and..." her voice broke, and she took a deep breath. "Shot him in the back of the head." She shook her head gently. "Why? Why not take the money and run?"
Hassan shook his own head. "I don't know. Maybe Johnny saw something beyond the security camera's range?"
"Maybe."
"Did they ever catch the killer?"
Elena shook her head.
Hassan stroked her soft hair. "No wonder you hate guns. I can understand why...." His heart hitched a little. "Why you won't have one."
Elena sniffled and lifted her head to look at him once again, dry eyed and achingly beautiful. "Actually, I do have a gun."
"You do?" He felt an unexpected rush of relief. She wasn't hiding this from him. Perhaps she hid nothing at all.
"A few months after Johnny was killed, my father gave me one. For protection, he said. I didn't want it, but he insisted. I keep it at work, just to pacify him." She shook her head gently. "I could never shoot it."
Hassan had not met Yusuf Rahman. Since he himself had taken an American bride, Elena's mother, perhaps he was more modernized than the Arab fathers Hassan knew. Still... "What did your father think of your plans to marry Johnny?"
"We never told him. We were going to, but.. .but I knew he wouldn't approve, so we postponed the inevitable."
"And after Johnny was killed?"
"I told my father, then. I had to. He kept.. .trying to marry me off to his friends or their sons, and I would have none of it. I wasn't ready. I didn't think I would ever be ready."
"And now?" Hassan whispered.
"I was so certain I didn't need anything but my work to have a good life," she confessed. "It's my fault Johnny was killed, I sent him to that ATM. His death.. .it hurt too much. I didn't want to go through that, ever again." She lifted her hand and caressed his cheek. "But you...you make me realize that my life is empty, in so many ways. Maybe I've lived safe long enough."
He captured her wrist and brought her palm to his mouth for a quick kiss. "You can't blame yourself for what happened," he whispered.
"How can I not?"
He did not want to think of Elena with another man, loving another man so much that she wanted to spend her life with him, sleep with him each night, bear his children. But she had grieved for too long. She needed someone to give her permission to stop punishing herself.
"Did he love you?" he asked, the question causing an unexpected pain.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Would he want you to stop living in his name? Would he want you to suffer endlessly in his memory?"
There was a long pause, a thoughtful silence before Elena answered, "No."
"Then let him go," Hassan commanded gently. "Life is for the living. Have you read Kahlil Gibran?"
"A little."
"In The Prophet he speaks of love. He says you must yield to love even though swords hidden among its wings may wound you."
"That's a very pretty way of saying that love hurts."
"Gibran's way is better," he said with a small smile. He had no business speaking to Elena about love. While they were stranded here he would forget his mission, he would forget that for all he knew Elena was the enemy. He couldn't believe she was involved in any way with the Brothers, but he couldn't disprove that possibility, either.
He wished for the storm to return, so that they might be stranded here for days, rather than hours.
Hassan stood, offering his arms to Elena as he rose. She stayed with him, the blanket around her shoulders, her face more fragile than he had ever seen it. She tried, so hard, to be tough and unfeeling, but she had a tender heart she could not hide. Not from him.
In a move she obviously did not expect, he swept her off her feet and back into his arms. "Tonight you will sleep with me," he said, walking toward the desk. Elena's eyes were on his face as he blew out the candle and furtively closed the bottom drawer with his foot.
"No," she said softly.
Hassan lifted his eyebrows as he carried her toward the hallway. "No?"
Elena smiled. "You will sleep with me. My bed is bigger than yours."
Hassan turned toward her bedroom. Already he wanted Elena again, and tonight.. .tonight he would not deny his passions or hers. Tomorrow would be soon enough to face reality.
He laid her in the bed and gently removed the blanket he had wrapped her in. The room was more dark than not, but since the rain had stopped and the clouds had been blown away, a hint of moonlight lit the room and Elena's bare body.
Tonight they were stranded. He couldn't call Rashid, he couldn't search Elena's computer. Tomorrow morning, the real world would intrude once again. Reality would impose itself upon them soon enough. Too soon.
Hassan joined Elena on the bed, lying beside her to kiss her throat, her shoulders, the pebbled nipples and the soft slope of her breasts. She reacted so intensely to every caress, to every flicker of his tongue. Her body grew warm, he felt her gentle quiver with his lips. As he took a nipple deep into his mouth and raked his palm up her thigh, she muttered something unintelligible, a word lost in throaty passion. She spoke again, and this time he heard her too clearly.
"Stop."
He did as she commanded, taking his mouth and his fingers from her body and propping his head in one hand to watch her. "Stop?"
He expected an argument of some kind, but instead was gifted with a wicked smile. Elena laid her palm against his chest and very tenderly pushed him onto his back. "This time," she whispered, "let me make love to you." She laid her mouth on his throat and kissed him there, gently, then not so gently. Her fingers teased his flat nipples for a minute or two before taking a winding trail down his body to rest on his hip. His hands did their own exploring, as Elena rained kisses over his throat, his jawline, beneath his ear, and across his shoulders. Finally, she touched him, wrapping her soft fingers around his arousal. She stroked his length, gently then not so gently. By the time she straddled him he was more than ready.
She guided him into her wet, hot body, swaying above him, taking him deep and slow, then deep and fast. Without restraint, she made love to him, shattering with a cry and a clenching of her inner muscles that stole the last of his contro
l and made him moan deep in his throat, as he held her hips and climaxed while Elena was still lost in the final waves of her own completion.
"Oh, my," she said breathlessly, her whisper filled with wonder and surprise.
Hassan drew Elena's head down and onto his shoulder, where he cradled it gently. "Sleep, now," he whispered.
She smiled and kissed the side of his neck. "A couple of hours ago, I didn't think I'd get a wink of sleep tonight. Right now," she snuggled against him. "I think I could sleep until Monday."
"No," he said softly. "I will not allow you to sleep until Monday, Elena. We have more important things to do." Before Monday comes and it's back to businss. Before we get back to the refinery and I remember why I'm here.
Before I have to face the possibility that the woman I'm falling in love with is the enemy.
* * *
Elena had never dreaded going home the way she did now, as Hassan drove toward her condo. They had slept hard and awoken late, made love in the bright sunlight that fell across the bed, and then slept a while longer.
She had tried so hard to keep her heart out of this deal, but she was failing miserably. Glancing at Hassan, she knew what she really wanted from him was.. .everything. And everything with Hassan was impossible, for so many reasons.
It was almost night again, the sky growing gray. There were no clouds tonight, there would be no storm to drive her to Hassan and him to her. Too bad.
He parked his truck, rather than letting her out at the door, and she didn't argue when he left the driver's side and circled around to open her door for her. He smiled and offered his hand, and she took it. Hand in hand, they walked to the front entrance of her building.
The elevator ride up was slow, silent. Elena's heart pounded. At the door to her condo, Hassan hesitated and released her hand. "I really should call my brother tonight."
She nodded, understanding. "I'm sure your family didn't expect you to stay here this long."
"No," he said in a low voice.