But, far from reassuring him, her words seemed to anger him—although she had a strange feeling that he was angry with himself rather than with her. He jumped to his feet and paced the floor of the tent—all powerful, muscle-packed masculinity, with his bare chest gilded from the morning light, a pair of thin cotton trousers tied with a drawstring around his waist.
‘Your honesty humbles me,’ he said tersely. ‘Nevertheless, I am not proud of my behaviour on our wedding night, and I want you to understand that you have not married a brute intent only on his own selfish pleasure. I will wait until you feel ready to share my bed again, and when that time comes I will temper my desire and make sure you are fully aroused and ready for me before I make love to you.’
Just the thought of him ensuring that she was ‘fully aroused’ was having a profound effect on her, Erin thought frantically, feeling her breasts tingle in anticipation of his touch. And she didn’t want him to temper his desire; she wanted him to kiss her in all the places he had explored last night, especially the secret, silken heat between her thighs, and then move over her and enter her with the hard, rhythmic thrusts that she already seemed to be addicted to.
Zahir had been prowling the tent like a caged tiger, but now he came over to the bed and stared down at her, his keen gaze taking in the hectic flush that stained her cheeks. He had told her he would not make love to her again until she was ready, but the gleam of undisguised sexual hunger in his eyes made her long to throw back the sheet and tell him she was ready now, this minute, and couldn’t wait.
‘I am aware that we had little opportunity to get to know each other in the days before our wedding,’ Zahir muttered abruptly, forcing himself to step away from the bed.
Despite all his good intentions, Erin was an irresistible temptation, lying there with her hair tumbling in silky disarray over her shoulders, the firm swell of her breasts visible above the neckline of her chemise, beckoning him to slide the strap down so that the deliciously soft mounds spilled into his hands. He strode over to the tent flap and unfastened it, so that more sunlight poured through the gap, standing with his back to her so that she would not see the confusing whirl of emotions in his face.
‘I would like to know more about you,’ he told her, realising with a jolt of surprise that it was the truth, and not simply a ploy to take his mind off his need to make love to her. ‘You said last night that you had been desperate to prevent Kazim growing up in care, as you had done after the death of your mother. How old were you when she died?’
‘Ten,’ Erin replied unemotionally. She sensed that Zahir was waiting for her to continue, but she had no wish to revisit her past. She tried to keep the memories of her childhood locked away, but images floated into her mind of the squalid flat that had been her home for her early years, of her mother, painfully thin, with long red hair that hung lank around her pinched, white face. She still had a clear picture in her head of Jeannie Maguire’s unhealthy pallor, the dull eyes that had seemed sunken into her skull, and her expression of blank uninterest in anything other than her need for her next fix.
Zahir was staring at her, clearly curious. ‘Was she killed in an accident?’ he queried, and the unexpected gentleness in his voice brought a lump to her throat.
He was a prince who had grown up in a world of unimaginable luxury—he could have no comprehension of her deprived childhood, when her mother’s addiction to hard drugs had meant Erin had frequently gone hungry for both food and basic care.
‘She was ill.’ The social worker who’d been appointed after Jeannie’s death had said that drug addiction was a disease, but Zahir did not need to know the sordid details. Like how her mother had paid for the drugs by prostituting herself.
‘And after she died, was there no one in the family who could have cared for you?’
‘She didn’t have a family.’ Erin hesitated, and then added, ‘She told me once that she had run away from home when she was fifteen, after her stepfather abused her. I don’t know any other details, and Social Services never traced any relatives who might have taken me in. I know you suspect my motives for adopting Kazim, but I swear my only reason was because I believed he had no one else who would love him. And to a child love is more important than anything,’ she finished huskily.
Zahir felt something tug at his insides. He had been a similar age to Erin when his mother had left Qubbah, and he had never forgotten how badly he had missed her. He’d been lucky that he’d still had his father and brother and sisters around him, but Erin had had no one.
He had convinced himself that she was a heartless gold-digger because it had suited him, he acknowledged grimly. It had been the only weapon at his disposal to fight his ferocious attraction to her. But what if he had been wrong about her? What if she really had adopted Kazim so that she could give him the love she had been denied during her childhood? It made his treatment of her seem even worse—particularly the way he had trapped her in a marriage she hadn’t wanted, simply because of his selfish determination to take her to bed.
‘You told my father that you loved Faisal,’ he muttered, voicing the thought that had been gnawing at him. ‘But you must have been lying. Because last night I proved conclusively that you were never a proper wife to him.’
‘I did love him,’ Erin insisted. ‘As a brother and my best friend.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘Faisal trusted me at a time when no one else would. I had been sacked from my first job as nanny to two little girls because I’d refused to sleep with their father. Mr Fitzroy told everyone that he’d had to fire me because I flirted with him and begged him for an affair.’ She wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘He was old enough to be my father, for heaven’s sake. The employment agency refused to keep me on their books, and I was afraid I’d never get another job. But Faisal believed me. He employed me to look after his baby son, and I’m so glad he did—because I fell in love with Kazim at first sight.’
The silence that followed her last statement seemed to stretch interminably, but at last Zahir turned his head and stared at her. ‘So Kazim really is the reason you married me?’ he said, in a casual tone that disguised an overwhelming urge to slam his fist into a punchball for as many times as it took to relieve the tight knot of anger that had formed inside him. ‘You were a sacrificial virgin in every sense, weren’t you?’ he murmured sardonically. ‘But even though I now accept that your love for Kazim is genuine, I will never let him go. You accuse me of blackmailing you into marriage, but last night you wanted me, Erin—and, as I have already said, desire is as good a basis for marriage as anything. Particularly when it is combined with our mutual determination to give Kazim a happy and loving childhood.’
He had walked back over to the bed, and Erin gasped when he suddenly whipped back the sheet and swept her up into his arms. ‘We have a duty to Kazim to make our marriage work,’ he told her as he strode out of the tent. ‘I rushed you last night, perhaps even frightened you.’ He frowned blackly at the thought. ‘But I am prepared to be patient and give you time to adjust to married life.’
Despite the early hour the sun was hot, and Erin blinked in its brilliant glare when Zahir set her down on a flat rock by the edge of the pool. She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her, and her confusion increased when he casually untied the cord around his waist and let his trousers fall to the floor.
‘What are you doing?’ she demanded in a strangled voice. Last night she had been too absorbed in the feel of his warm, satiny skin sliding against hers to look at him properly, but the sight of his body revealed in all its muscled glory beneath the bright sunlight made her heart stop. She had never even seen a man completely naked before, but Zahir was a truly magnificent specimen of masculinity, and she longed to reach out and stroke her fingers over his golden skin.
‘I told you I would let you out of bed occasionally to swim,’ he drawled, amusement glinting in his eyes at her stunned expression. He turned and stepped into the crystal clear pool, affording her a tantalising glimpse of his ta
ut buttocks before he glanced back at her and held out his hand, ‘Are you going to join me?’
‘I didn’t bring a swimsuit.’ She knew she was staring at him, but she could not drag her eyes from the formidable width of his chest, the whorls of dark hair that arrowed down over his flat stomach, and lower still…
‘As you can see, neither did I.’ He saw her glance anxiously towards the staff quarters and smiled. ‘No one can see us through the trees, and the servants will not disturb us.’ His smile faded and he added seriously, ‘You’re quite safe with me, Erin. I gave my word that I will not lay a finger on you and I will abide by that promise.’
‘What a pity.’ The words spilt from her lips and she immediately blushed scarlet, but when he tensed and gave her a questioning stare she held his gaze, her heart thudding at the flare of undisguised hunger in his eyes. He had always been honest about his reasons for marrying her: he wanted Kazim to live at the palace and he wanted her in his bed. Now it was time for her to be honest too.
He had fascinated her from the moment she had met him at Ingledean, and when he had made love to her last night she had proved that she was utterly incapable of resisting him. He didn’t love her, and she had no expectations that he ever would now he’d stated that love was an overrated emotion, but he desired her. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps passion and their mutual love for Kazim was as good a basis as any for a successful marriage?
‘I think the best way for me to adjust to married life is to practise every aspect of it,’ she whispered, shocked by her own daring and yet driven by a primitive yearning she barely understood.
With fingers that shook slightly she slid the straps of her chemise down her arms and heard his harsh intake of breath when she peeled the grey silk down over her breasts, her stomach, and finally her hips, and allowed it to pool around her ankles.
She could hear the whisper of a breeze stir the leaves of the palm trees, and the song of some exotic bird, but the silence from Zahir stretched her nerves and she wondered for one terrible moment if she had got it wrong—if he had been turned off by her inexperience or had tired of her already. His slow, sensual smile reassured her, and the molten heat that gleamed from beneath his heavy lids promised heaven.
‘Come and swim with me, then, kalila,’ he invited, and before she realised his intention he’d caught hold of her hand and pulled her into the pool, his mouth capturing her startled cry as they sank beneath the surface.
The water was cool on her heated skin, but Zahir’s body was warm when he crushed her against his chest and tangled his legs with hers, holding her so tightly to him that their bodies seemed to be melded together. Erin was out of her depth, and clung to his shoulders. She had closed her eyes when he’d pulled her under, and, deprived of vision, her other senses seemed more acute.
She loved the sensation of his lips moving deliciously on hers beneath the water, of his hands roaming up and down her body before sliding beneath her to cup her bottom. But finally the need for oxygen forced him to propel them upwards, and when they burst through the surface of the pool he broke the kiss, smoothing her tangled curls back from her face.
‘Are you sure this is what you want, Aphrodite?’
Zahir’s deep, velvet-soft voice resonated through her, and Erin’s eyes flew open as she felt his powerful erection nudge between her thighs. Was he going to make love to her in the pool? Excitement cascaded through her, and she nodded wordlessly and wrapped her legs around him in mute invitation.
His husky laughter tickled her ear. ‘Patience, kalila. This time we will take it slowly, and I will take great care not to hurt you,’ he promised as he strode out of the pool and across the sand towards the tent. The friction of her breasts rubbing against his hair-roughened chest caused her nipples to swell and tighten, and she could not restrain a little shiver of pleasurable anticipation at the thought that he would soon be caressing her with his hands and his mouth.
The interior of the tent was cool and dim after the bright light outside. Their bodies were already almost dry from the heat of the sun, but when Zahir set her down he wrapped her in a towel and continued the process with an efficiency that left her tingling all over.
He was not the only one who could tease. ‘My turn,’ she murmured, taking the towel from him and patting the droplets of water that still clung to his chest hair. She moved the towel lower, totally absorbed in her task, and heard his breath hiss between his teeth when curiosity overcame her shyness and she stroked her fingers along the solid length of his throbbing arousal. Steel wrapped in velvet, she thought wonderingly, surprised by her own daring as she circled him and felt him harden still further in her hands. He was beautiful, like some magnificent sculpture, but instead of being formed from cold marble his skin was warm and satin-soft beneath her fingertips.
Zahir uttered a harsh groan and gripped her wrist. ‘Enough, kalila,’ he muttered hoarsely. Her innocence was indisputable, but she was obviously a born seductress. ‘Much more of that and we won’t even make it onto the bed. Now it is my turn to prepare you. Lie down,’ he commanded softly, his eyes meshing with hers when she complied and stretched out on the silk sheets.
For a moment he simply stood there, staring down at her, and Erin’s breath caught when she saw the gleam of primitive hunger in his gaze.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he said rawly. ‘The moment I saw you I could not take my eyes off you. All I could think of was how quickly I could persuade you into my bed. Now you are my wife, and I find that I am very possessive.’ He gave a self-derisive laugh and said beneath his breath, ‘Which is not something I had expected.’
For a second an emotion crossed his face that Erin could not decipher, but then it was gone, and his slow, sexy smile sent fire thundering through her veins. He came down beside her on the bed and leaned over her to claim her mouth in an unhurried kiss, tracing the shape of her lips with his tongue before dipping between them to initiate a sensual exploration that left her breathless. Then he moved lower, trailing a line of kisses down her throat while he cupped her breasts in his palms and watched her nipples swell as he rolled them gently between finger and thumb.
The feel of his mouth closing around one jutting peak and then the other was so exquisite that Erin whimpered and dug her fingers into his shoulders. She was ready for him, had been since he had stripped by the pool, but he ignored her soft cries that she couldn’t wait and slipped his hand between her thighs. He parted her and slid one finger and then two into her molten warmth, gently stretching her in readiness for his full possession. He was determined not to rush her, as he had done the previous night, but the silken evidence that she was fully aroused was seriously testing his self-control, and with a muttered oath he positioned himself above her and dropped a hard kiss on her mouth.
Erin twisted her hips restlessly as the first spasms of pleasure radiated out from deep in her pelvis. Zahir’s wickedly skilful fingers were taking her higher and higher, but she wanted more, wanted to feel him deep inside her, and when he settled himself between her legs she bent her knees, her breath catching as he entered her with one careful thrust. He’d said he would take it slowly this time and he hadn’t been joking, she realised when he drew back and then cautiously thrust again, with such exquisite care that tears blurred her eyes.
Last night he had sought to dominate her, but now he was treating her with such gentle respect that her heart ached. This was how it must be between two people who loved each other. But Zahir did not love her. He was simply determined to restore his pride and prove he was not at the mercy of his hormones. Nor did she love him, she reminded herself. It was just sex—very, very good sex. She doubted any other man could give her such pleasure, and now she would never find out. She had decided to marry him in a moment of panic, fearing that she would lose Kazim if she did not become his wife, but in her eyes marriage was a lifelong commitment that she was determined to honour.
Zahir suddenly stilled his movements, and his jaw clenched when he caught t
he shimmer of tears in Erin’s eyes. ‘You should have told me I was hurting you,’ he grated harshly, already withdrawing from her, but Erin slid her arms across his back and tried to urge him forward.
‘You’re not hurting me, I promise,’ she assured him frantically. ‘Don’t stop, Zahir. Please.’ As she spoke she lifted her hips and wrapped her legs tightly around him, and after a moment’s hesitation he moved again, gentle at first, then harder and faster, bitterly aware that he could not fight his desperate need for sexual release.
He had never been at the mercy of any woman, and he was always, always in control. But Erin blew him away. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was the only man she had ever known, that her innocent, untutored body had found pleasure only with him. He didn’t know, and right now he didn’t care—because she suddenly gave a sharp cry and tensed beneath him, the intensity of her climax so strong that he could feel her muscles clench around him, each spasm squeezing him harder until the sensation was unbearably exquisite. He paused, dragged air into his lungs, and made one last valiant attempt to exert control over his body. But it was too late, and as he affected one final, powerful thrust he felt himself explode and spill his seed deep inside her.
For several moments after the last shudders of satisfaction had racked his body he remained slumped on top of her, his face buried between her soft breasts as he inhaled the delicate fragrance of her skin. He knew he should move, that he must be too heavy for her slender frame, but for the first time in his life he was in no haste to withdraw and regain his own personal space. He had never known such a feeling of complete contentment—of body and of spirit. The thought triggered warning bells and he rolled onto his back, irritated by his reluctance to break the contact of skin on skin.
He had married her because she was a good mother to Kazim, he reminded himself. A fact he’d recognised even when he’d suspected her motives for marrying Faisal and adopting his child. Blindingly good sex was a bonus—but that was all it was, a white-hot sexual attraction that had raged between them from day one.
At the Sheikh's Bidding Page 13