“You do not smile at me as you used to.”
“The last few weeks have been stressful.” And she’d thought they would be better off if she buried her deeper emotions, so they came to each other on a level playing field. But hiding her feelings was not natural to her, not like it was for him.
In order to do so, she’d had to cut off her emotions completely, hiding behind what she called her political female figure facade. She’d had plenty of examples growing up, but it was only tonight she’d realized how much the constant facade had been smothering her.
She needed to be herself sometimes, but most particularly with him.
“Love is not required in a marriage such as ours is to be, but both parties should like each other, I think.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.
Instead of allowing herself to get upset at this further evidence he didn’t love her, she listened to what he wasn’t saying. She heard his need, a need she doubted he allowed anyone else to glimpse.
“I do like you, Zahir, and I love you.” It was easier to admit now that she’d already said it. “I never stopped.”
He reversed their hold so that it was his hands holding her close, with no hope of moving away. “You are mine. I will never let you leave me again.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” She needed him and was coming to accept that on some very important level he needed her, too. “I want you to make love to me.”
“And my promise to your father?”
“Is nullified if making love is an act of caring rather than slaking mere physical desire.”
“Of course I care for you. You have always been as important to me as any of my family. That has not changed.”
It wasn’t the romantic declaration of the century, but for Zahir those words were a promise of commitment deeper than most men were even capable of making.
“I believe you.”
Then, it was if something inside him broke. Maybe it was his self-control, because he took her mouth like an invading army intent on total conquest.
CHAPTER TEN
SENSING he needed this as much as she did, she allowed her body to melt into him in a surrender powered by her own desire. And was that really surrender at all, or a victory?
She certainly felt like she was winning as his lips drew forth passion that even surpassed the single night they had shared together.
He swung her up in his arms and headed toward the bedroom, though his mouth never left hers. Part of her marveled that they didn’t bump into walls or door-jambs, but then this was Zahir. The man could navigate the minefield of world politics, his own rooms were no challenge.
They came down onto the bed together, his heavy body covering hers, proof of his desire pressed into her stomach. Taking the kiss to the next level, he thrust against her, his essence surrounding and grounding her, blocking out everything else.
Heated moisture soaked the scrap of fabric between her legs and she spread them, seeking more stimulation. But there were too many layers in the way, her own outfit preventing her from getting as close to him as she wanted to. She whimpered, wanting it and every other bit of clothing off her.
He made a sound of satisfaction as he continued to kiss her with a masterful passion that was far beyond what he had shown her before. It was as if that night he’d been treating her like she’d been made of spun-glass. And perhaps since it had been her first time, he’d been right to do so.
But now, there was an elemental, almost primal power radiating through every kiss, every caress.
And his hands were everywhere, clever fingers that knew how to draw forth urges and sensati
ons she hadn’t even known she was capable of. Her clothes came off and so did his, though she couldn’t remember the sequence or even who took off what.
But the moment when he pressed her hands upward and curled her fingers around the wrought-iron spindles on the big bed’s headboard and told her not to let go was seared into her mind like his passion seared her heart.
She stared at him. “Why?”
“I want to pleasure you.”
“And I need to keep my hands here for you to do that?”
“It will please me.”