the rasp of her uneven breathing?
She swallowed hard, telling herself she still had time to retreat. Nothing had happened.
Yet she knew that for a lie. This was... She shook her head. She had no words to describe this.
* * *
Tariq stood stock-still. Samira in a red one-piece swimsuit, her sable silk hair rippling in waves to her waist, equalled his most fervid imaginings. The perfume of her skin was in his nose and mouth, like the sweetest of all treats. His lips brushed the impossible softness of her hair and he wasn’t sure he could let go.
Yet he’d promised not to rush her. He’d given his word.
This week of holding back from her had almost killed him. His breath sawed in his throat as he struggled to breathe.
He wanted so badly to reach for her. Holding back gouged a chasm through his midriff. But, despite the longing in her eyes, he saw the way her teeth sank into her bottom lip and the tight defensiveness of her shoulders.
Tariq looked into her beautiful face and suppressed a shudder of desire. His need for her was a ravening hunger that obliterated any satisfaction that she was obviously weakening. He’d assured himself it would be easy to enjoy the physical benefits marriage brought. Yet he felt himself hover on the edge of control.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. So all-consuming.
Guilt was a sudden sharp, twist of pain driving up from his gut to his heaving chest. How could he feel this rush of powerful desire when not much over a year ago his wife—
He slammed the door on that thought, but not before shame scored him.
Jasmin had asked him to do what was best for the boys, to find a woman who’d care for them as her own. Yet he’d been in no rush to fulfil his promise, appalled at the thought of marrying again. Nothing, he’d thought, would induce him to take another wife, to step into the quicksand that was emotion.
Now, holding Samira’s soft hair in his hand, feeling her touch on his arm, he wondered what the hell he’d done. How was he supposed to control this?
What he felt was too big, too deep, too raw and unfamiliar. He resented it, despised the weakness it revealed in him. His whole upbringing had been designed to eradicate weakness. His guardian’s regimen of hard work, discipline and self-denial had honed Tariq into a man with the strength and single-mindedness to rule a nation, to lead in war if necessary, not to wallow in feelings or succumb to neediness.
Yet his fingers were stiffly reluctant as he released Samira and stepped back. Warm water eddied around his calves. He wished it was deep and icy so he could douse the heat in his blood and his phenomenal erection.
Abruptly he turned, wading out until the water reached his hips and then striking out for the other side of the oasis pool.
TARIQ STOOD, ARM BRACED high against the open window as he stared at the winking stars. The desert night sky glittered, diamond-bright. A soft breeze feathered across his chest and rippled his loose cotton trousers against his thighs. But it did nothing to cool him. Even the plunge in the oasis and a cold shower later hadn’t brought relief from the heat simmering within.
What he needed was a distraction, but the children were in bed and paperwork couldn’t hold his attention. Usually it was no effort to work through the evening. But he’d grown so used to Samira’s presence, he missed it now. This last week he’d spent most of his time with her, getting reacquainted over a game of chess or backgammon, or discussing the boys. But he’d decided an evening apart was a wise precaution.
A mirthless laugh escaped. He’d planned to accustom her to his presence, use every moment of every day to remind her how good they’d be together and how foolish she was to try denying the inevitable.
How that had backfired!
He was the one so needy he all but climbed the walls with wanting. He was the one who couldn’t settle.
He should have made her see reason that first night. Despite her haunted eyes it wouldn’t have taken much to seduce her. She was such a sensual woman he could have overcome her doubts in no time.
Now he was paying the penalty for his scruples.
Tariq shoved aside the half-formed suspicion that mere lust shouldn’t torture him so. After Jasmin, he knew he was incapable of feeling anything more profound for any woman.
He swung away from the window, intending to dress for a night ride across the desert, when a figure emerged from the shadows near the door.
‘Samira!’ Even in the gloom she took his breath away. Her long, pale nightdress shimmered with the lustre of a thousand pearls as it shaped her voluptuous form. Her hair lay loosely plaited over one shoulder, trailing down past her breast, lifting with every breath she took.
Tariq swallowed hard, his eyes travelling from her luscious breasts to her tiny waist and the smooth flare of her hips. She moved and a narrow slit revealed one leg all the way to her thigh. He breathed out gustily, trying to rein in his impulse to reach for her and slam her against his body.
‘Hello, Tariq.’
‘What are you doing here?’ He flexed his fingers, then linked them behind his back, away from temptation.
‘I want to talk with you.’
Tariq shut his eyes, trying to conjure the willpower he needed. She came to his room dressed like that and expected to chat? More and more he wondered just how experienced his bride was in matters of passion.
He’d reached the end of his tether.
‘We can talk tomorrow, Samira. It’s late.’ He strode to the wide bed and dragged back the covers. If that didn’t scare her away, nothing would.
Yet she stood her ground. In the dim light he saw her chin jut.
‘This won’t take long. I know how disrupting a visitor can be just as you’re trying to get to sleep.’
Tariq repressed a grunt of laughter. So this was payback for him walking into her room the night of the wedding? If so she had no idea how disruptive that had been for him. If she knew she wouldn’t have dared venture into the lion’s den.
Deliberately he sat on the side of the bed and gestured for her to do the same, knowing she wouldn’t.
‘Thank you.’ To his amazement, she sat down. Not at the far end of the bed, either, but a prim arm’s length away.
Tariq took one look at the toned thigh peeping out from her satiny gown and dragged his gaze up to her face. She was tense but more than that he couldn’t read in the gloom.
‘I wanted to ask you...’
‘Yes?’ It came out as a growl because inevitably his gaze had dropped again to where she fidgeted with the slit now gaping wide on her thigh. There was only so much temptation a man could withstand.
When
