Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
T he garden was lit by the torches which were thrust in sconces along the outside of the colonnaded walkway. She walked quickly toward the long rectangular pool upon which the moon was reflected. She looked up, blinked, and the stars swam. What on earth? She swiped under her eyes which came away dark with makeup.
“What is the matter?” She turned to see Zak standing beside her. She’d been so absorbed in her own panic, she hadn’t even heard him follow her. He was frowning, no doubt completely baffled as to why she should run away from him when most women ran towards him.
“Nothing’s the matter.” She was annoyed to hear her voice quaver. She couldn’t say anything further, afraid she would break down, afraid that she would reveal exactly how scared she was. She knew little of men other than in the business environment, and her role as sheikha had always protected her from anything other than respectful, anything that was personal.
He walked around her so that he had his back to the moonlight which shone directly onto her face. “You’re crying,” he said, frowning. “Why?”
How could he not know? “Why do you think?”
“I don’t know. If I did, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“Maybe it’s because I’ve said goodbye to my father and brother and I don’t know when I’ll see them again. Or, maybe, it’s because I’m alone with a man to whom I’ve barely spoken and who I am now expected to be intimate with. Or, maybe, I’m just tired. Have you really not thought of any of these things?”
“No, I hadn’t. I thought you were content to do your duty.”
“No, I am resigned to do my duty.”
His frown deepened. “You do not wish to be married.”
He stated it. It wasn’t a question. She bit her lip. “It isn’t that. I do wish to be married. It’s just that I hadn’t expected to feel, so… so… bereft when the door closed and my father and brother disappeared.” She shrugged, and her gown felt stiff and heavy on her shoulders. She couldn’t wait to change into her nightwear. Then she remembered she wouldn’t be dressing for comfort tonight and more tears ran down her cheeks.
“It is natural to feel sorrow when someone you are close to leaves.”
“You really don’t understand, do you? I’m not the least bit close to them. But they are all I have.”
“You have me now.”
“And I haven’t the first idea who you are.”
He nodded slowly and offered her his hand. “Take my hand and let’s sit for a while. It’s beautiful here. It’s where I like to come sometimes to sit and think.”
She was surprised but took his hand and allowed him to lead her to a seat beside the pool.
“It’s true,” he said after they were seated. “You don’t know me, nor I you. But you must know this one thing about me. I am not an unkind man and I will not hurt you. We will simply have to do things differently from other people. We will get to know each other slowly, after our marriage. We can take our time. I will take nothing that you do not offer freely.”
She swallowed, filled with relief at his words which surprisingly offered some kind of respite from the emotional turmoil which had grown throughout the day.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Now,” he said. “I think you may be more comfortable if you take off your veil.”
She nodded. The pins had been digging into her scalp all day. She reached up to grope for them. But he stopped her. “You cannot see properly. Here.” He turned her face to the light and slid out some pins. Then he eased the veil from her hair and laid it on the stone bench beside her. “Better?”
She nodded as she reached up to massage where the grips had been. Her hair began to fall from its elaborate form into his waiting hands.
“You have beautiful hair, Soraiya,” he said. “It was hidden under all those jewels and that veil.”
“Beautiful? It is not as dark as our cultures admire, I believe. At least my father thought so.”
“Your father?”
She nodded. “I resemble my mother for whom he developed a great hatred.”
“Ah, so he didn’t think to tell you of your beauty. Your hair is like a river running at full flow—thick and luscious.” He leaned toward her. “May I?”
She swallowed, aware of his every move, his every touch against her skin which sent sensation after sensation skittering through her body. He brought a strand to his lips and kissed it. Through her hair, his breath teased her neck. She gasped and lifted her head to his, suddenly aware of an urge to have those same lips pressed against hers. He smiled and withdrew, still holding her hair between his fingers. His gaze was steady.
“It feels like silk,” he said, his tone a shade lower, a shade hoarser.
His eyes had lost that distant look and now held a warmth which caressed her deep inside. From feeling lost and alone, she now felt at the center of his world.
He brushed the back of his finger across her cheek as he caught up another lock of her hair and drew it away from her face. “Your skin, too. It seems I have gotten myself a silken bride. Soft and sensual to the touch.”
For a moment she’d almost forgotten she was a bride, so lost was she in his touch and words and eyes. But his words reminded her.
She looked away quickly and started to pick up her veil but he took hold of her hand.
“Don’t go, Soraiya. Not yet. It’s so beautiful here. Let’s keep this magic for a little longer.”
She was too stunned by the feel of his large hand encircling her own to move. It felt so intimate. She looked up at him with a frown. “You are the king. Why are you doing this? I don’t understand. You need no magic and you certainly don’t need to humor me.”
“Perhaps I’d like to humor you?” He tilted his head to one side. “As you say, I am king after all,” he said with a whisper of a smile on his lips. “Which means I get to indulge my fancies.”
She couldn’t have said whether it was his tone of voice—even softer now, more seductive—or the way his thumb stroked the palm of her hand. But, whatever the reason, her mind and body stilled as if mesmerized. She wasn’t going anywhere, and he immediately sensed it. He brushed his lips against her cheek and ear and the last of her barriers fell. She gave a little whimper as he kissed her lower, on the neck. How a simple press of the lips could send such desires snaking through her body she didn’t know. But desires they were, and they found their way through to her breasts and to other places.
Before she knew it, he’d taken her in his arms and turned his attention to her lips. She gasped, her mouth opening under his. And he took advantage of it, gently touching her tongue with his, which sent more delicious sensations skittering through her body. She felt as if she’d been brought alive—awakened by the electricity of desire.
She heard a moan and with vague surprise realized it was coming from her. And she made no effort to stop his fingers from caressing her neck and shifting lower until they met the resistance of her dress. It was his turn to groan and he pulled away with a sigh.
He cupped her face and swept his thumbs across her cheeks.
“You, habibti , are a surprise,” he said, his voice gravely.
Her eyes widened and she blushed. Her first kiss and she’d messed things up somehow. “What did I do wrong?” she asked.
He smiled, shook his head, and then laughed when he realized she was serious. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He brushed his lips against her neck, breathing her in as if she were a rare blossom. “It was all very… right .”
“Then why am I a surprise?”
“Because, beneath that cool, polished exterior beats the heart of a passionate woman.”
She blinked, wondering if he was teasing her. No one had ever called her passionate before, but then she’d never been kissed by anyone before, and it had certainly affected her in a way she’d never imagined.
Before she could remonstrate, he took her hand. “Come, habibti , we should take this inside. These are our private gardens but I trust no one.”
She didn’t want to think about what ‘this’ was that they’d be taking inside. But if it was anything like the kiss—anything like that connection she’d felt with him—then she wanted more. She nodded and let him lead her through the gardens and into their apartment. Once inside, he went to turn on the light but she stopped him, placing her hand over his, suddenly shy.
“It’s light enough with the starlight and moonlight, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” he said, pulling off his tie and tossing it to one side. His jacket swiftly followed. He looked at her with an urgency which took her breath away, and sent a frisson of fear down her spine.
She shot him a brief smile. “So this is your bedroom,” she said, stating the obvious, but needing to bring her nerves under control and that look of his which suggested he was about to devour something he was greatly looking forward to.
He sighed and closed his eyes briefly as she walked past him.
“It is,” he said, before turning to face her. “Does it meet with your approval?”
His warm smile both reassured her and heated her, reducing the cool licks of fear to nothing.
She smiled back. “Very much so.” She looked around. “Furnished simply but with the best. I like it.” She trailed her hand up the four-poster, its solid heft necessary to support the extravagant swathes of richly colored and patterned fabric. She looked back at him and saw his dark eyes were watching her thumb and forefinger move up the pole. She dropped her hand and he turned his intense gaze back to her. She swallowed, wondering what on earth was going to happen next, and not caring for once in her life. Her breathing was coming harder again, as his gaze dropped to her breasts. She’d never felt so excited, never wanted anything or anybody so much, in her life.
He took one step and then another towards her, inhaled a long, ragged breath and nodded, as if trying to slow himself down.
“This,” he said, running his finger along the side of her neck, before catching the edge of her dress, “is most,” he said, tugging a little at the collar, “unexpected.”
“You said that before.” She smiled. This time she was feeling more confident. “Tell me what it is that’s so unexpected, and I’ll do it again. If you like it, that is.”
“Oh, I like it. But if I tell you it will disappear like mist in the sunshine. No, you have nothing to worry about, Soraiya, because I sense you are being entirely natural. Just keep being you.”
“Keep being me…” She trailed off on a sigh as he kissed her neck and all her thoughts fled.
“Turn around,” he said and she did as he asked, as if under a spell. He undid the zip which the thoughtful designer had hidden under a myriad of tiny seed-pearl buttons, and it fell open. Before it could expose her bra, she held it tight against her, feeling the heat suffuse her cheeks, as embarrassment overcame desire.
He turned her to face him, her hands still clamping the dress against her breasts. He looked down, then up at her. She could see the flicker of a racing pulse in his neck. It appeared to be the only sign that he was aroused. But it seemed he had that tight in check.
“Will you allow me to take your dress off? By all means keep on your underwear if you wish. But I would love to see you. Your figure is outstanding.”
She couldn’t have said whether it was his description of her figure as outstanding or the kiss which he followed it up with, this time lower, pressing against the mound of her breast, but the embarrassment fell as quickly as the dress.
She could have sworn she felt his eyes graze over her breasts which heaved above the low-cut bra. He kissed the top of each breast and then raked his finger nails down the sides of her stomach, catching briefly on her panties before continuing on to her thighs. Here, he stopped, as he smoothed his hands around her voluptuous curves. She could see the effect on him immediately. She hadn’t noticed before because she hadn’t looked, but now his arousal was clearly visible.
“Your figure is sensational,” he said, bringing her closer to him as he put his hands around her waist. He kissed her again and this time she really opened up to him, letting his tongue caress and slide against hers. It seemed positively indecent. Even more daring than standing before him in her underwear. And it sent the most delicious strokes of desire coursing through her, as if he were licking her inside, where she melted.
He pulled away too soon. “Remember,” he said, as she instinctively pressed her hips to his, “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. If I go too far, simply ask me to stop.”
She was intensely relieved but also curious. She’d read as much as she could to prepare for this moment but she’d never read anything about a husband stopping before they’d had sex. She nodded.
He skimmed his finger under the top of her bra. “May I?”
“Oh, yes,” she breathed, snaking her hands around his neck as, with one very practised flick, he undid her bra and held out his hands into which her breasts spilled. It felt decadent, it felt naughty, and it also felt extremely nice. Then he caressed her breasts, before moving over her needy nipples.
With the pressure of first his fingers and then the lick of his tongue, she felt as if something deep inside of her was being wound up, ratcheting up the tension, making her sex wetter and her breathing become more ragged. Then he lifted her onto the bed with ease and turned his attention to her other breast. She couldn’t help herself now and her breathing emerged in short pants. Suddenly she felt him stroke the crotch of her panties which were damp with desire and she felt his finger focus on one place, caressing it in such a way that sent her over the edge of something she hadn’t known existed.
She cried out as the orgasm consumed her. She lifted her hips to him, falling back on the bed, not caring that she had nothing to hide her naked breasts. He suckled her other breast, while he played with her through her knickers and she called out his name, lost in wonder at the post-orgasmic ripples which continued inside of her.
Still fully dressed, he knelt over her and kissed her deeply and she felt the stirrings of desire begin again. So this was what she’d heard so much about and hadn’t believed. That a man could move her so completely simply by his touch had seemed incomprehensible to her—until now.
“That was…” she said before trailing away as she didn’t know the words to describe what exactly it was.
“Beautiful,” he said, kissing her again. Then he stood up and pulled back the bedclothes. “And I suggest you get some sleep. We will have a lot to do in the morning.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows, no longer self-conscious of her naked breasts. He turned and smiled. “To my room.”
“But aren’t we…” She trailed off, again running out of words.
He raised his eyebrow. “Having carnal relations? We just did.”
She frowned. “But that won’t make a baby.”
“No, but it might make you less terrified when I next approach you.”
As he left the room, and she heard him enter an adjoining bedroom, she brought the covers over her and lay back, her mind racing.
So this, she thought, was what all his other women had enjoyed from him. And she had no doubt that there was more where that came from. It wasn’t the techniques she’d read about, or not so much. No, the magic he’d created had come from his consideration and thoughtfulness for her. He was thinking about her, not himself. And what an aphrodisiac selflessness turned out to be.