lips and allowing him deeper access into her mouth, his tongue sliding against hers. It was like the darkest, smoothest chocolate dessert. Imbued with the kind of richness that made you feel as though you couldn’t possibly take another bite, while at the same time making you feel as though you could go on tasting it forever.
That was what kissing Zayn was like. Like too much and not enough, all at once. Like something she needed more of, while needing badly to break away, and take gulps of air.
But she continued to indulge, because he was holding her tight. Because he was so firm and sure. A pillar for her to cling to in the storm.
He was stability, and desire. Strength and heat. And she wanted nothing more than to cling to him until it all subsided. Though now, she could not tell if the greater storm waged above them, or inside of them. Between them.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight and kissed him with all of the ferocity in her body. Because she wanted to, and because she wanted him to know that he was okay. That he was not a terrible man, but a man who was worthy of this moment. Of being the only man she had ever wanted to kiss in this way. She didn’t know if her admiration was worth anything, but she would give it to him, if it would only take away that terrible haunted look in his eyes.
When they parted, they were both breathing heavily, both soaked through with rain. “We should get back to the tent,” he said.
She didn’t want to go back to the tent, because she feared it would break the spell they were under right now, right here. Back in the tent, sanity may return, and she didn’t want it to come back. She didn’t want reality to intrude at all. She would rather stand in the rain and nearly drown in it than go back where it was dry and warm and lose this connection they had found out here.
He must have sensed her hesitancy, because he traced her upper lip with his thumb, his eyes never leaving hers. “I will not pretend this didn’t happen.”
She nodded and he moved away from her, walking back in the direction of the tent. She stood for a moment and watched him, before going after him.
She followed him inside, suddenly very aware of the fact that her clothes were sticking to her skin. That she was cold. That she was shivering. She had not anticipated being cold out in the middle of the Surhaadi desert.
Of course, she hadn’t anticipated being caught in a downpour, either.
Her teeth chattered, and Zayn looked at her. The concern in his eyes made her warmer. And she wondered when the last time was that she’d been looked at that way. If she ever had been. When last someone had wanted to take care of her. When last she had wanted to let someone.
“You will freeze in that.”
She lifted her shoulder. “I suppose I might. It is very cold.”
“You could take it off.” His voice was rough, and it brushed against her nerves, sending a shower of sparks through her.
She nodded wordlessly, catching the hem of her top and tugging it over her head before she could think twice. For some reason, it did not seem embarrassing. For some reason, it seemed as natural as breathing.
She pushed the linen pants down her legs, and stepped out of them. She was only wearing her underwear now, Zayn’s eyes sharp, intense, as he looked her over.
Her hands shook as she reached around behind her and unclasped her bra, discarding it along with the rest of her clothes.
Zayn bent and picked up a blanket, holding it out to her. “Get warm.”
It was a command, and one she felt compelled to obey, even though she thought it was strange he wanted her to cover up now that she had uncovered.
She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, closing it in the front. And then she looked at Zayn, her mouth drying. He had pulled his shirt off, leaving him standing half-naked in front of her, his broad chest and slim waist on display. Every muscle was clearly defined, brushed lightly with the perfect amount of dark body hair. She’d been around half-naked men at pool parties, of course, but for some reason she had never been quite so conscious of all the skin on display. Perhaps because she had not been standing less than a foot away from them completely naked. Perhaps because she had not kissed them.
And perhaps because they hadn’t looked at her as though she was dessert and they were starving.
She started trembling again, and this time it wasn’t because of the cold.
He turned away from her, and pushed his pants down to the floor, her eyes widening when she saw his backside, the fabric of his dark underwear clinging tightly to his skin. Some mature, sensual part of her recognized that he was a work of art. While a much more prurient side of her nature only registered that he was hot and she wanted to touch him.
Of course, if she did touch him, she would have no idea what to do with him.
Really, she had only just got her first proper kiss a few moments ago. She didn’t think she was ready for more. She didn’t think she could possibly pull off more.
He turned back to her and she tried to redirect her gaze. “I think we would both be warmer if we laid down.”
“Sure.” She nodded dumbly, not entirely sure if she’d spoken, or if she had just stared at him like a dazed marmoset, all wide eyes and soaking wet hair.
He went over to the nest of blankets that was in the corner of the tent, and rearranged the pillows. She swallowed hard and went to where he was, sitting down alongside him, her blanket still wrapped firmly around her.
“You know, the quickest way to get warm is to be skin to skin,” he said, his tone grave.
She opened up the front of her blanket and adjusted herself, throwing one side over him and drawing herself beneath the same one he was under. Heart pounding she folded herself into his embrace. She rested her cheek on his chest, felt his heart raging against his skin. The hair over his skin was rough, the flesh beneath smooth and hot. She raised her hand and pressed her palm flat against him, reveling in the feel of him. In the differences between their bodies.
This moment should have been surreal, and yet it wasn’t. It was too sharp, too all-consuming. She was wholly in this moment with him, completely aware of who he was, who she was and what they were doing.
She lowered her head, resting it in the curve of his neck. He tightened his hold on her, one hand rested between her shoulder blades, the other on her lower back.
His breathing was ragged, fanning over her temple.
“I want...” She didn’t know quite what to say, because she didn’t know quite what she wanted. She only knew that her heart was raging out of control, that she felt shaky, that she felt needy. And she knew he had the answer. “I want—”
He cut off her words with a kiss, a gentle one, a soft one. This wasn’t a claiming, but a tasting. A question.
She slid her hands up his chest, and locked them around his neck, deepening the kiss. She could feel his arousal, hardening beneath her hip. She shifted, bringing his hardness between her thighs.
He moved, bracing his weight on his arms, settling between her legs. His dark eyes bored into hers, his focus unwavering.
“Sophie—” his voice was
