Even then, when she was writhing beneath him, he did not stop, but increased his pace, thrusting into her hard and fast, the corded muscles of his neck and shoulders standing out as he sought to retain control. And then, with a savage groan dragged from the depths of his soul, his control splintered spectacularly and he threw back his head, his eyes closed and his jaw clenched, as he pumped his seed into her before collapsing on top of her, his chest heaving as he snatched air into his lungs.
She should have expected such barely leashed, violent and primitive passion from a desert prince, Erin thought numbly as she lay beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress and his heart slamming beneath her fingertips. Her sanity was slowly returning and she was appalled—not by his fierce hunger, but by her unrestrained response to him.
Deep down she had clung to a fantasy of one day giving her heart and her body to the man she loved, who loved her in return, but instead she had been powerless to resist Zahir’s wildfire passion. She had given no thought to love or respect. Her only consideration had been to assuage the desperate need he had aroused in her. But now, in the aftermath of that passion, she was able to view her behaviour dispassionately, and she felt deeply ashamed.
At last he rolled off her and lay on his side, propped up on one elbow, his dark eyes unfathomable as he stared down at her. Too embarrassed to meet his gaze, Erin attempted to scramble off the bed. But her efforts to escape him were thwarted when he caught her arm and dragged her back down beside him.
‘You were a virgin.’ It wasn’t a question but an aggressive statement, and only then, as she watched his eyes harden to chips of obsidian, did she realise the extent of his anger. ‘How come, Erin?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Although I don’t really need to ask,’ he added with undisguised disgust. ‘You actually had me fooled the night I rescued you from the desert. I really believed your motive for marrying Faisal and adopting Kazim was because you loved them both. But it’s obvious you persuaded my brother to marry you, and make you the only beneficiary of his will, and then reneged on your marital vows. Faisal was sick—he was dying,’ he grated bitterly. ‘But you already had what you wanted. You knew you stood to inherit Ingledean, and you couldn’t even make the last months of his life happy by being a proper wife to him.’
With another furious oath he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and jumped to his feet, as if he could not bear to be near her. He had received the biggest shock of his life when he’d discovered that she was a virgin, and he was still struggling with the realisation that he was her first lover. And mixed with shock was another feeling that he was ashamed to admit—a ridiculous feeling of elation and primitive possessiveness. The corrosive envy that had besieged him every time he thought of her with Faisal had disappeared, and now he even felt sympathy for his brother.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he demanded harshly. When she did not reply he continued, ‘I can only assume you didn’t because you realised that if you had admitted you were a virgin I would have had proof that your marriage to Faisal was a sham and you had done as I’d first suspected and married him for his money. If I had then refused to consummate our marriage and demanded an annulment, you would have stood to lose all the things you really care about—Ingledean, the fortune you inherited from my brother, and your position as the wife of a billionaire.’
He broke off and gave a grim laugh. ‘Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice the indisputable proof of your innocence? It’s possible I hurt you.’ His conscience burned when he recalled how he had taken her, with a distinct lack of finesse. ‘But you only have yourself to blame if I did,’ he growled, guilt adding to his inexplicable fury that he had in some way ruined a moment that should have been special—for both of them. ‘Perhaps you concluded that all you were gaining financially was worth a few moments of discomfort?’ he added scathingly.
‘No. You’ve got it all wrong,’ Erin cried frantically, pushing her tangled curls out of her eyes as she jerked upright, and then blushing scarlet when his eyes settled on her bare breasts. To her horror her nipples immediately hardened to provocative peaks, and smothering a groan of mortification she dragged the silk bedcover around her before she lifted her head to him.
Only moments ago Zahir had taken her to heaven. Now he was looking at her as if she was the lowest life-form on the planet. ‘I admit I lied about the details of my marriage,’ she choked, wishing that instead of putting her on trial the minute he had withdrawn his body from hers, he had taken her in his arms and stroked her hair, made her feel that giving her virginity to him had been something to cherish. ‘You’re right. I was afraid that if you knew I had been Faisal’s wife in name only, you would have used it as leverage to take Kazim from me. But Faisal never wanted me to be his proper wife,’ she explained urgently. ‘He only ever loved one woman, and he spoke about Maryam until the day he died.
‘When he was told that he was dying he asked me to marry him purely so that I could adopt Kazim as quickly as possible. And because I believed that Kazim had no one else to bring him up, I agreed. I don’t have a family. My mother died when I was young and I spent the rest of my childhood in care. I would have done anything to prevent the same thing happening to Kazim,’ she said quietly. ‘And I told you right from the start that my only reason for marrying you was so that I could stay at the palace with him.’
For the first time in his life Zahir did not know what to think. Part of him wanted to believe she was telling the truth, but the cynic in him pointed out that it was highly unlikely she had adopted Kazim without wanting anything in return. But what did it matter if her motives had been questionable? She was his wife now—in word and deed. He had married her because he had been desperate to bed her, and, despite being a virgin, her passion had matched his.
Marriages had succeeded on less, he brooded as he strode back over to the bed, his eyes narrowing when Erin immediately clutched the satin bedspread to her. ‘You say that the only reason you married me was so that you could stay with Kazim. But if that’s so why didn’t you stop me making love to you tonight?’
He dropped down onto the mattress and idly wound one of her silky red curls around his finger. Then, before she had time to react, he whipped the bedspread from her grasp and pushed her flat on her back.
Her eyes were huge in her flushed face, and he watched with satisfaction the way her pupils dilated when he skimmed his hand over her stomach and cupped one small, creamy breast in his palm. Her breath was coming in sharp little gasps, her lips slightly parted, pink and lush and seriously tempting. ‘You surrendered your innocence to me, kalila, and I can only think it was because you were overwhelmed by the passion I aroused in you and couldn’t deny yourself the sexual release your body craved.’
‘Well, of course you would think that, wouldn’t you? Because your ego is so over-inflated I’m surprised you don’t need to wear gravity boots,’ Erin muttered through gritted teeth, incensed by his arrogance and her pathetic, shaming inability to resist him.
The brush of his thumb-pad over her swollen nipple was so exquisite that she had to bite her lip to hold back her betraying moan of pleasure, but fortunately her pride had at last woken up, and she would rather die than let him see how much he affected her.
‘Actually, your first assumption was right. I knew that if I told you I was a virgin you would realise that my marriage to Faisal had been in name only and there was a chance you could win custody of Kazim. But now I am your wife—our marriage has been consummated, and even under Qubbah’s archaic laws I must have rights to my son. I hate to disabuse you of the notion that you’re irresistible, and that sex with you is fantastic,’ she continued, dropping her gaze when she saw the flash of anger in his dark eyes, ‘but I’m afraid I’m in no hurry to repeat the experience.’
The ensuing silence played havoc with her nerves, so she faked a yawn and pulled the bedspread over her once more, praying he would go and find somewhere else to sleep.
‘Really?’ Zahir said at l
ast, in a deceptively soft tone that sent a shaft of nervous apprehension down her spine. ‘My apologies, kalila, I had not realised that you were so reluctant. Indeed,’ he drawled silkily, ‘from your screams of pleasure I was sure you were enjoying every caress and kiss and bite—but let’s see, shall we, just how much you hate it when I touch you…here?’
Erin drew a swift, shallow breath when he flicked the bedspread aside and pushed his hand between her thighs, parting them with insulting ease. ‘Let me up, Zahir,’ she grated, every muscle in her body clenched as she fought the insidious warmth that was already flooding through her veins. ‘I don’t want this. So unless you intend to take me by force—’ She broke off, her heart thudding erratically, when stroked his finger lazily up and down the swollen outer lips of her femininity and then probed between them, exploring her so thoroughly that it was all she could do not to lift her hips in mute supplication. She could feel the betraying wetness pooling between her legs, and could not control the first delicious spasms that racked her when he stretched her wider and inserted another finger, while his thumb-pad found the ultra-sensitive nub of her clitoris and brushed, feather-light, across it.
When he lowered his head to her breasts and drew first one dusky pink crest and then its twin into his mouth she stifled a moan, From somewhere she dredged enough will-power to brace her hands against his shoulders and attempt to push him away. ‘Don’t.’ But her frantic plea was lost beneath the pressure of his mouth as he captured her lips in a bruising kiss that sought to dominate and prove that he was in control.
His lips were hot and hard, his tongue tormenting her relentlessly as he thrust deep into her mouth in an erotic simulation of lovemaking. Her determination to fight him was fading, lost in the maelstrom of sensation he was arousing with his mouth and his wickedly invasive fingers.
‘I have never taken a woman by force in my life, and I don’t intend to start with you,’ Zahir growled against her skin. ‘Tell me now that you don’t want this and I’ll stop,’ he taunted, his eyes gleaming with undisguised mockery when she opened her mouth but could not utter the words. ‘Do you want me to stop, Erin?’
‘No.’ The word was wrenched from her soul, and she squeezed her eyes shut to blot out his satisfied smile as he moved over her. She was utterly humiliated by her weakness, but she was on fire for him, her body trembling with her desperate need to feel him inside her.
‘What do you want?’ He was hovering mere inches from her, the hard ridge of his erection pushing into her belly. He was determined to have her complete capitulation, and she gave a sob of shamed despair.
‘You.’
He entered her with a hard, savage thrust, withdrew almost fully and thrust again, deep, powerful strokes that filled her to the hilt and drove every thought from her mind but the thundering urgency to reach that magical place he had taken her to only minutes before. She realised that when he had made love to her for the first time and discovered her innocence he must have tempered his passion to accommodate her inexperience. But now she was no longer a virgin, and he took her with an almost brutal force, powering into her so that she simply anchored her nails into his shoulders and clung on for the wildest ride of her life.
They climaxed together, a violent, soul-shattering explosion that saw her rake her nails down his back as her body shook with the intensity of her release and caused him to mutter something in Arabic, his voice low and raw.
His chest was heaving when he rolled off her immediately the last spasms of his passion had died away. He stood to drag his trousers on and stared down at her dispassionately, his eyes darkening as they lingered on the faint bruises on her pale skin.
‘Brute,’ Erin muttered thickly, tears of mortification burning her eyes.
She hated him, and hated herself more. Yet even now, when he was looking down his arrogant nose at her as if she was a whore and he had just paid for her services, she longed to trace her fingers over the hard planes of his face and feel the brush of his lips on hers in a kiss of tenderness rather than blazing passion. From the first moment she had seen him she had felt a connection with him that she did not understand—as if their souls were inextricably linked and only he could ease the loneliness that had haunted her all her life. It couldn’t be love, she told herself desperately. It wasn’t possible to love and hate someone simultaneously—was it? And if it was love, then she was an even bigger fool than she had believed—because Zahir was as harsh and unforgiving as the desert. His heart was hewn from granite, and he would never love her.
At last he snatched up his shirt and strolled over to the tent flap, pausing briefly to glance back at her—still spread on the satin bedcover with her hair tumbling in fiery disarray around her shoulders. ‘Never tell me again that you don’t want me,’ he warned softly, his black eyes boring into her as if he could see inside her head. ‘Because now we both know it’s not true.’ And with that he dipped his head in a mocking salute and stepped outside into the desert.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PALE rays of sunlight filtered through the tent flap and slanted across Zahir’s face, rousing him from sleep. As always, he was instantly alert, and turned his head to find Erin curled up next to him, her glorious hair spread like a fiery halo about her head.
Last night when he had joined her in bed, long after she had fallen asleep, he had been struck by how young she looked—and how innocent. Her pillow had been drenched, and the streaks of tears on her cheeks had tugged hard on his conscience. Usually he had no patience with women’s tears, but Erin had cried alone and silently—he had been standing just outside the tent and hadn’t heard her—and the idea that she had sobbed herself to sleep had forced him to evaluate his treatment of her.
It was nothing to be proud of, he’d acknowledged as he had stretched out beneath the sheets and tried to ignore the fact that she was lying inches from him, her delectable body barely concealed beneath the sheer grey silk chemise she must have donned after he had stormed out of the tent. Now, in the light of a new day, he was besieged by a nagging sense of shame.
She was no longer innocent. He had taken her virginity with as much finesse as a barbarian. It was impossible to believe he had not hurt her, and the thought filled him with such bitter self-disgust that he flipped back the sheet and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, raking his hand wearily through his hair. Whatever Erin might have done in the past, she had not deserved such brutality, and the fact that she had responded to him so fervently did not excuse his behaviour.
He was suddenly conscious that the rhythmic sound of her breathing had changed, and he glanced round to find her watching him with big, wary grey eyes. For the first time in his life he did not know what to say. None of the usual glib compliments that formed part of his practised routine when he woke with a woman in his bed came to his lips. The silence ached with emotions he did not understand, with a faint feeling of regret he felt helpless to express, and yet despite his self-loathing he could not tear his eyes from her face.
She was his woman, his wife, and his desire for her this morning was, if possible, even more intense than last night. But he would have to control the fire that licked in his veins and had already caused him to harden in eager anticipation. He had vowed in the pre-dawn hours when he’d stalked restlessly in front of the tent that he would not touch her again until she’d indicated that she wanted him to. He would not force himself on her like a coarse boor. He was a prince, for heaven’s sake, and it was time he exerted some of the iron self-control for which he was renowned.
‘I need to apologise for last night,’ he said stiffly, his clipped tone shattering the uneasy quiet.
Erin’s eyes widened even further. ‘For what last night? For making love to me?’
He could feel her surprise—as if an apology was the last thing she had expected—and his jaw clenched. ‘I was rough with you,’ he grated. Apologies were not easy, but this one had to be made. ‘I have spent the past week anticipating our wedding night, and my impatien
ce made me careless. By the time I discovered it was your first time it was too late to restrain my hunger for you. If you had told me—’ He broke off, clearly struggling to contain his impatience. ‘If I had known, I would have acted differently—been gentler,’ he expounded at her confused frown.
‘If you had known I was a virgin you wouldn’t have made love to me at all,’ Erin murmured. ‘You would have had our marriage annulled and asked the courts to award you custody of Kazim—wouldn’t you?’ she added uncertainly.
Zahir’s gaze meshed with hers, and the tension between them changed subtly as awareness wove its sensual spell. ‘Kazim was not the only reason I married you,’ he said harshly. ‘And you credit me with more self-control than I possess—certainly where you are concerned. The knowledge that you were a virgin would not have lessened my desire for you,’ he said with a self-derisive laugh, ‘but I would not have forced myself on you like some clumsy youth at the mercy of his hormones.’
Erin watched in fascination as dull colour highlighted his incredible cheekbones. Zahir was a royal prince, and fiercely proud, but previously she had mistaken his pride for arrogance and hated him for it—or so she had tried to kid herself, she thought ruefully. With a sigh she rolled onto her back and stared up at the canopy of rich burgundy silk that was draped above the bed. ‘You didn’t force me, she said flatly. ‘I wanted you as much as you wanted me.’
Colour stole into her own cheeks as she recalled her wanton behaviour last night, the way she had practically begged him to make love to her. If anyone should feel ashamed it was her. But her pride seemed to have deserted her for good, and she only wished he would lie back down, next to her, and work his magic on her eager body once more.
At the Sheikh's Bidding Page 12