they have harems?”
He raised his head to meet her laughing eyes. “You wish for a harem, Mina?”
She frowned as if considering it. He squeezed her tightly. “Okay! Okay! I think I can handle only one of you at a time,” she stated.
“You will only ever handle me,” he said with a masculine growl.
Jasmine smiled and, without stopping to consider her words, said, “Of course. You’re the only one I love.”
Tariq turned to stone. She wanted to take back her hasty declaration. He wasn’t ready; she knew he wasn’t ready. But the words had welled up in her heart and escaped before she could control them.
“You do not need to say such things.” Under her hands, liquid silk turned to steel and his warm flesh was suddenly searingly cold.
“I mean it. I love you.” There was no going back. Throwing away her pride, she gazed at him, silently begging him to believe her.
Tariq’s eyes were midnight dark in the lantern light. “You cannot love me.”
“How can I make you believe I do?” She ached for the loss of their joy, their laughter, their blindingly beautiful love.
Too late. She was four years too late.
He shook his head, answering her with silence. In the past, his control over his emotions had fooled her into thinking that his feelings didn’t run as deep as hers. Only now, when it was too late, did she understand that she’d hurt him more than she could have believed possible. He’d given her his warrior’s heart and she’d thrown it away in her ignorance of its value.
How could he possibly believe the truth after such a betrayal? And yet the truth existed. Her love for him was deeper, richer, more intense now. The child-woman who’d first loved him had matured into a woman who loved him so much she sometimes thought she’d die from the sheer intensity.
When he kissed her, she gave herself up to his embrace, swallowing her tears. Tariq played her like a well-tuned musical instrument, drawing every note of pleasure out of her. But he didn’t give her his heart. Her warrior didn’t trust her not to hurt him again.
Long after he’d fallen asleep, Jasmine lay awake, thinking of the past and how it had indelibly marked her future. Her husband’s distrust was like a razor in her chest, making each breath incredibly painful. Even worse was the knowledge that he believed love weakened him.
“…You’ll never again allow me close to your heart?”
“Yes. I will not be such an easy target a second time.”
The memory of his implacable expression and his determination to never again fall prey to love haunted her. How could she fight her warrior’s pride and his distrust in her loyalty at the same time?
Jasmine woke to find Tariq gone. She missed him. Missed his smile, his morning caresses, his body sliding into hers, completing her in a way that she’d never known was possible between a man and a woman. When their bodies were one, it was as if she could see into his soul for one blinding instant. But only sometimes. Last night he’d shut her out, loving her body with exquisite care but giving her nothing more than his physical passion.
She stood up and quickly ran through her toilette when her musings threatened to make her teary. Then she pulled on a long skirt in a soft peach fabric over her naked skin. She felt exposed even in the confines of the tent and wanted to get covered before she worried about underwear. In her rush to dress, she forgot that they were traveling today and she would need to be in pants.
Her fear was justified. She was reaching for a bra when the tent flap opened behind her and a warm breeze touched her back. Apprehensive, she glanced over her bare shoulder.
“Oh.” Relief flowed through her.
Tariq raised a dark eyebrow. “You were expecting someone else?” The flap closed behind him, hiding the incipient brightness of the day.
She blushed. No one would dare enter without his express permission. “I just can’t get used to the openness of these tents.” With a shake of her head, she turned and picked up the bra.
“Leave it.” Husky and rough, Tariq’s unexpected command startled her into dropping the piece of lace and satin.
The feel of his naked chest against her back startled her even more. He’d been fully dressed when he’d entered, and she’d turned her back on him only a few seconds before. Unlike last night, this morning his hands were impatient, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples with more heat than expertise, while he kept her trapped in front of him. He was a little rough and most possessive.
She felt a hot rush of liquid heat between her thighs. It was as if Tariq knew. He slipped one hand under her skirt. Continuing to caress her breast with the other hand, he slid a single finger through her curls.
“You are ready.” His husky voice held a note of satisfaction, as if he was pleased at her responsiveness.
Before she knew what was happening, he pushed her skirt up her back and bared her buttocks to him. Too needy to be embarrassed, she gripped his thighs when he put both hands around her hips and pulled her onto him, sliding her down so slowly she thought she would go mad.
“Tariq, please, please,” she moaned. “Oh, please.”
From the way he growled in approval and gave her what she wanted, she knew that he liked her obvious need, liked the way she wriggled on him and urged him to go faster. Out of nowhere, an image of what Tariq had to be seeing as their bodies joined in wild surrender burst into her mind. It was the final erotic stroke. Her climax was thunder and lightning. She knew that she took him with her, his throaty cry mixing with her scream of release.
Afterward, he held her in his lap, their bodies still joined. She tilted her head back against his firm shoulder and tried to get her racing heart to calm down. A long time later, she swallowed and wet her dry lips. “Wow.”
Tariq chuckled against her ear and nibbled on the soft flesh of her earlobe. “Not too fast? I hear women like it slow.” His tone was pure provocation, daring her to deny the way she’d burned like wildfire in his arms.
She nudged him with an elbow. “You’re a horrible tease, but I’m too sated to argue with you.”
She heard his smile in his reply. “So this is what I must do to get your complete cooperation. It could become exhausting.”
Jasmine laughed. Tariq closed his hands over her breasts in a final sweet caress before he reluctantly pulled away. “We must prepare to leave, my Jasmine. It is time to go home.”
Just before they left the tent, she took a deep breath and put her hand on his muscular forearm. Under the white material of his shirt, skin and muscle moved over bone, seducing her with their effortless flow.
He gave her an indulgent smile, still enjoying the aftereffects of their wild mating. “What is it? I promise you we can play when we get home.”
His sensually teasing response made her blush. It was as if last night had never happened. She had her husband back. The shields had dropped, but only as far as they had been before her declaration. It wasn’t enough. If she let him deny her love,
