by Lynne Graham
‘I didn’t appreciate how far-reaching the effects of Ana running away would be,’ Tati admitted. ‘I didn’t understand that it would be such a crime and an embarrassment in your father’s eyes either... I was stupidly naïve.’
‘Kiss me again,’ Saif husked, his attention locked to the full pink lower lip she was worrying at with the edge of her small blunt teeth.
‘I’m not sure that we should.’
‘Nothing that tastes as good as your mouth could be wrong,’ Saif told her.
‘Quite the poet when you want to be,’ Tati whispered, barely breathing as she looked into those stunning green eyes of his and felt the flutter of butterflies in her tummy and the wicked heat of anticipation. A ‘what the heck?’ sensation that felt unfamiliar but somehow very, very right was assailing her. Other people took risks all the time, but she never did and the acknowledgement rankled.
‘We are married.’
She wasn’t thinking about that, all she was thinking about was how he made her feel and that felt wildly self-indulgent, something she never allowed herself to be. But what were a few kisses? No harm in that, no lasting damage, she reasoned with determination. Why did she always stress herself out by trying to second-guess stuff? Why did she take life so seriously and always behave as though the roof were likely to fall on her if she deviated from her set path of rectitude? In a resentful surge of denying that fretful and serious habit of generally looking on the downside of life, she tipped her head back and said tautly, ‘So we are...’
Saif tasted her soft pink mouth, which had all the allure of a ripe peach, and then he yielded even more to the hunger storming through his tall, powerful frame, nudging her back against the pillows, a lean hand gliding up from a slender knee to skate along the stretch of her thigh.
Tati gasped, her hips rising, her thighs clenching on the sudden ache stabbing at the heart of her. It was terrifyingly intense. ‘You make me want you... I don’t know how!’ she exclaimed helplessly, every nerve ending in her body on the alert.
Saif smiled down at her, green eyes aglow with energy below well-defined brows. ‘You know how...you’re not that innocent.’
But she was, she was, she conceded uneasily, because absolutely everything felt so novel and fresh and exciting for her. And why wouldn’t it when she had never felt that way before? He shifted over her, one long, strong leg sliding between hers, and her breath snarled in her throat, her tummy fluttering with an incandescent mix of nerves and craving that left her light-headed. He kissed her again, parting her lips, delving between, his tongue flicking across the roof of her mouth, making delicious little quivers circulate through her lower body.
The weight of him against her, the clean, musky, all-male scent of him engulfing her, the way he plucked at her lower lip and teased it with the edge of his teeth. It all drove her a little crazy, igniting an insane impatience that made her fingers spread and dig into his shirt-clad back, needing to touch the skin below the cotton, clawing it up to finally learn that he was every bit as hot in temperature as his kisses promised. She squirmed up into the sheltering heat of him and he pressed his lips to the slender column of her throat, discovering yet another place that was extraordinarily sensitive, tracing it down to the valley between her breasts.
Saif pulled her top over her head and cast it aside. His big hands spread to cup the full swell of her breasts cupped in lace-edged silk. His thumbs found her prominent nipples, stroked, and an arrow of heat speared down into her groin, making her hips rise. The bra melted away and she barely noticed because the feel of his hands on her naked skin sent literal shivers of response through her. He lowered his head over the pouting mounds and employed his mouth on the straining peaks, and she discovered a new sensual torment that utterly overwhelmed her as his tongue lashed the swollen buds and set up a chain reaction inside her that increased the ache tugging between her thighs.
He brushed away her last garment and her whole body rose as he finally touched her there where she had the most powerfully indecent craving to be touched. A light forefinger scored across the most sensitive spot of all and her spine arched, a gasp parting her lips. Her hand travelled up from his shoulder into his ruffled black hair and rifled through the silky strands to draw him back down to her again.
He nuzzled her parted lips, plucked at the full lower one with the edge of his teeth, teasing and rousing while he traced the damp, silky flesh between her thighs. She moaned and shifted her hips, the fiery pulse beating at her core rising in intensity in concert with her heartbeat. As he circled the most tender spot, the sizzling desire thrumming through her took an exponential leap and her fingers dug into his scalp as she fought for control. She wanted more, she needed more, she wanted him inside her to sate the tormenting hollow ache. She didn’t recognise herself in the blind hold of that overwhelming craving.
Indeed she was at the agonising height of anticipation when Saif suddenly stopped dead and stared down at her with green eyes glittering with frustration. ‘I don’t have contraception here.’
‘I’m on the pill...it doesn’t matter!’ Tati gasped.
‘I have not been with anyone since a recent health check.’
Unaccustomed to such sensible conversations even while accepting that they were necessary, Tati could feel the heat of embarrassment burning her already flushed cheeks. ‘I haven’t been with anyone either,’ she hastened to assure him.
Relief flooded his expressive gaze. ‘I wasn’t expecting this...us,’ he admitted tautly, rearranging her under him, unzipping his trousers.
The instant she felt the satin-smooth touch of him against her entrance she tipped her legs back, hungry for the experience. He pushed into her slowly and she tensed at that strange sensation, closing her eyes tight and gritting her teeth momentarily when the sting and burn of his invasion broke through the barrier of her virginity. It hurt but not as much as she had feared it might. In fact, if there was such a thing, it was a good hurt, she reasoned abstractedly, her ability to concentrate still utterly controlled by that overriding hunger for the fulfilment that only he could give her.
Pleasure skated along her nerve endings as he bent her further back and drove deeper into her needy depths. Excitement climbed as he picked up his pace and her heart began to thump inside her, her breath catching in her throat. The whole of her being was caught up in the tightening bands of tension in her pelvis that merely pushed the craving higher and then the storm of gathering excitement coalesced in one bright, blinding instant. Like fireworks flaring inside her, it was electrifying. The excitement pushed her over the edge in an explosion of incredible pleasure that engulfed her in a sweet after-tide of blissful release. She tumbled back into the pillows, winded and drained but feeling light as a feather.
Saif achieved completion with a shuddering groan of relief and quickly pulled away from her, afraid of crushing her tiny body beneath his weight. He flung himself back and whispered, ‘I’ve never had sex without a condom before. That was...unexpectedly...much more exciting than I ever dreamt...but you...you were amazing,’ he stressed, locking brilliant green eyes to her burning face with sensual appreciation.
Tati’s light-as-a-feather sensation was fast fading and the regrets were kicking in even faster. ‘How did this happen?’ she whispered shakily. ‘We don’t even like each other—’
‘Speak for yourself. I like you very much indeed at this moment,’ Saif countered with dancing eyes of amusement.
Tati was remarkably disgruntled by that light-hearted comment. There he lay, confident, calm and absolutely in control, while she felt as if she were falling to pieces inside herself. She couldn’t believe that she had had sex with him, didn’t want to accept that she had urged him on like a shameless hussy. A strand of nagging anxiety pierced her.
‘Did you...er...withdraw?’ she mumbled in mortification, ashamed that she hadn’t noticed, hadn’t thought to suggest, hadn’t acted on a single intellige
nt thought.
‘Why would I have done that when you are protected by contraception?’ Saif enquired.
Tati said nothing but she paled. She had left her contraceptive pills behind in the rush of packing for Alharia and could only wonder how effective those pills would be when she had already missed a couple of doses. She had never had to worry about anything like that before because she was only taking the pills in the first place to ease a difficult menstrual cycle.
Saif sat up. ‘I need a shower... I’ll use the one next door.’ He sprang out of bed, stark naked and unselfconscious. ‘We could share it...it’s a big shower.’
‘I don’t think so,’ she said flatly, downright incredulous at the suggestion that they could share a shower.
He didn’t need to be self-conscious with his lean, athletic physique, she thought ruefully, but, personally speaking, she would not be getting out of bed in front of him without sucking her tummy in to the best of her ability. As she watched, he flipped through drawers and brought out fresh clothing to pull on trousers and a fresh shirt and stride out of the room.
How on earth could she have been stupid enough to have sex with him? How the heck had that happened? She hadn’t been her usual self, she reasoned ruefully—she had been angry, guilty and upset about the situation she was in and ashamed of her extravagance. But then somehow curiosity and desire had combined to blow all common sense out of the water, she reflected unhappily as she darted out of bed and raced into the dressing room to extract fresh underwear before speeding into the bathroom.
Where would she be if she fell pregnant? She had just had unprotected sex and she knew the risks. Her parents hadn’t conceived her by choice. She had been an accident, conceived at a party with a man with whom her mother had had only a casual relationship. In every way, never mind her birth father’s eventual arrest for fraud, Tati had been a mistake even if her mother had made the best of her arrival and had always assured her daughter that she had no regrets whatsoever.
As he stripped again next door, Saif was thinking that he would buy his bride something special as a mark of his appreciation. She deserved a handsome gift for not holding against him the cruel accusations he had made. He had been harsh and much less generous but that had to change, he acknowledged ruefully, because Tatiana was his wife and, for as long as they were together, she had a right to both his respect and his care. Just as he was about to switch the water on, he noticed the streak of blood on his thigh and he stopped dead with a frown.
When Tati emerged from the bathroom, she was fully dressed and unprepared to find that Saif was waiting for her. His impact stole the breath from her lungs. Black hair still damp from the shower, his lean dark features unnervingly grave, he was strikingly handsome. Tailored black trousers outlined his long powerful thighs and his plain white shirt was open at his throat. He was the very definition of casual, elegant sophistication.
‘Is there something wrong?’ she prompted, striving to appear more composed than she indeed felt.
‘Before I showered, I noticed that there was blood on me... I must know—did I hurt you?’
Tati’s face flamed crimson because she was utterly unprepared for that question. ‘A little, but it’s par for the course, isn’t it...the first time, I mean?’ she completed awkwardly, trying to pass it off casually, wishing he simply hadn’t noticed anything amiss.
Saif froze in astonishment. ‘You were a virgin?’
‘Yes. Let’s not make a fuss about it,’ Tati urged tightly.
‘It is not something I can ignore... I am guilty of having made assumptions about you, assumptions that clearly have no basis in fact,’ Saif breathed tautly, far less comfortable after she had made that confirmation.
Tati breathed in deep and slow, but it still didn’t suppress the rage hurtling up through her. ‘So, because I was greedy, I also had to have been... What do we call it? Around the block a few times?’ she paraphrased with a grimace.
‘At twenty-four most young women have some sexual experience,’ Saif countered, standing his ground on that score.
‘But I’m not twenty-four. I’m twenty-one... Within a few weeks of my next birthday, but not quite there yet,’ Tati filled in thinly, her spine rigid as she moved to the door. ‘Perhaps you should find out a little more about me before you start judging.’
‘I am not judging you,’ Saif countered with measured cool.
‘You’ve been judging me from the moment you met me, and it stops here and now,’ Tati told him, lifting her chin in challenge, her accusing blue eyes bright as sapphires. ‘Clearly you weren’t any keener on this marriage than I was, but I’m done taking all the blame for it! I’ve been pushed around and used by my cousin and then by my uncle and aunt but I’m not going to accept being pushed around and used by you as well!’
With that ringing assurance, Tati stalked out of the room, her short skirt flipping round her slender knees, her breasts taut and firm and highly noticeable from the rigid angle of her spine. Challenged to drag his attention from her, Saif swore under his breath, rebelling at the temptation to follow her and argue. He didn’t do arguments with women. He didn’t do drama. He didn’t believe that he had ever pushed around or used any woman. He had been force-fed his father’s deep suspicions of the opposite sex from an early age and had done his utmost to combat that biased mindset with his intelligence.
Yet he had never wanted to fall in love and run the risk of giving up control of his emotions to a woman and trusting her. The rejection dealt by the mother who had deserted him had cut him deep down inside. He had learned to live with that reality, though, by burying his sensitivity on that issue.
And life experience had made him more cynical. He had been used by women, used for sex, for money, chased and feted by those in search of status and a title. Once or twice when he was younger and more naïve, he had been hurt. As a result, he was not prejudiced, he was wary, he reflected grimly.
CHAPTER FIVE
AS TATI REACHED the foot of the sweeping staircase without any idea of where she was going, she was intercepted by Marcel and shown across the hall into a dining room with a table already beautifully set for a meal. She took a seat with alacrity because she was more than ready to eat. She had been hungry even before she got into bed with her prince, she thought wildly, although she had done nothing there worthy of the excuse of having worked up an appetite. That belated reflection birthed a host of insecurities. She had lain there like a statue, she thought in dismay, as much of a partner as a blow-up doll. The slow-burning heat of mortification crept up through her like a living flame and it was not eased by Saif’s sudden entrance into the dining room.
‘I forgot about dinner,’ he said almost apologetically.
‘I didn’t get lunch either,’ she hastened to admit.
‘Why not?’ Saif queried, his startlingly light eyes bright against his olive skin.
‘Nobody else seemed to be interested in eating.’ Tati shrugged, still fascinated by those eyes of his.
Saif frowned as Marcel arrived with little plates. ‘It was for you to say that you wished to eat,’ he told her gently. ‘You were the client. You were in charge.’
Stiffening at that veiled criticism, Tati looked down at her plate and shook out her napkin. ‘I usually go with the majority vote and endeavour to fit in.’
As Tati shifted awkwardly in her seat, in the silence the dulled ache at the heart of her almost made her wince, and recalling exactly how she had acquired that intimate ache made her flush to the roots of her hair. In haste she began to eat, struggling to suppress the overwhelming memory of his lean, powerful body sliding over and inside hers, the heart-thumping excitement that had gripped her and the sheer unvarnished pleasure of it.
As Marcel arrived with the main course, she glanced up, desperate to distract herself from such thoughts. ‘Your green eyes... So unexpected, so unusual,’ she heard herself rem
ark gauchely, inwardly cringing from the surprise that lit up those extraordinary eyes of his.
‘I inherited them from my mother,’ Saif proffered, amused by her embarrassment and how little she was able to hide it from him. ‘I don’t know where she got them from or if anyone else in her family shares them because I have no contact with her family.’
‘Why’s that?’ Tati pressed, unable to stifle her interest.
‘You really don’t know anything about me, do you?’ Saif registered. ‘My mother ran off with another man six months after my birth, deserting me and my father. Her family took offence when my father spoke his opinion too freely of her behaviour.’
‘My goodness, that was tough for both of you. What was it like growing up, torn between two parents? I presume they divorced?’
‘Yes, there was a divorce. I have no memory of her, though, and I was never torn between them. She never asked to see me. She wiped her first marriage out of her life as though it had never happened.’
Tati grimaced. ‘That was very sad for you.’
‘Not really,’ Saif countered, his jawline stiffening as he made that claim. ‘I had three very much older half-sisters, who devoted themselves to my care in her place.’
‘How much older?’
‘They were born of my father’s first marriage and are in their sixties now. I was spoiled as the long-awaited son and heir,’ Saif told her quietly. ‘I have much to be grateful for.’
He had dealt with his troubled background with such calm and logic that she was slightly envious, conscious that she had more often been mortified by her own. She dealt him a wry glance. ‘You notice that we’re talking about everything but the elephant in the room.’
‘I didn’t want to give you indigestion by mentioning our marriage,’ Saif delivered straight-faced.
Tati stared at him, entrapped by those striking eyes as green as emeralds in his lean dark face, and then her defences crumbled as she spluttered and then laughed out loud, grabbing up her water glass to drink and ease her throat. ‘So, you do have a sense of humour.’