Harlequin Presents January 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Sheikh's Desert Duty\Nine Months to Redeem Him\Fonseca's Fury\The Russian's Ultimatum (12 page)

“How dare you use what I shared with you against me?”

“Is it a bad thing, Sophie? Is it a bad thing to live for others? I have lived for myself, and I've never seen anything fruitful come of it. It brought nothing but death and destruction. I will not apologize for living for a higher calling. I am not insulting you by pointing out that you do the same. But I will not allow you to stand there and accuse me of something that you yourself do.”

“She made a choice, Zayn.” Sophie continued as though he hadn't spoken. Because she didn't want to process what he had said.

Because he cast her in a different role than the one she had placed herself in. It didn't make her sound like a hard worker, like an independent person who had made her own choices. It made her sound like someone who was beholden to the expectations of others. Who had only succeeded because she was afraid of what others might think.

Yes, she knew she worried about what others might think, but it was only because she needed them to think highly of her in order to achieve what she needed to. She was using their approval, she was not dependent on it. And that was an entirely different thing.

“And I made choices that delivered her choice to her. We affect the choices others make, Sophie. Your life is a classic example of that. Your father's actions affected your choices.”

“I make my decisions. I have controlled my life. Nothing controls me.”

Suddenly he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her up hard against his chest. She could feel his heart beating hard against her breast, could feel the sharp rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in deep. “Nothing controls you? How about this,
habibti
. Does this control you? Or are you immune to me?”

She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. In spite of the cold, in spite of the wet, she felt like she was overheating. Felt as though she might melt into a puddle, and flow down the mountainside along with the rest of the rain.

“Who controls you now?” he asked, his voice rough and soft, sending a shiver through her body.

She looked into his eyes, and she was suddenly hit with a swell of longing that overtook her completely. That nearly made her knees buckle, that made her feel as though if she didn't close this minute distance between them she would die.

She had been in this position once before. With a man's lips hovering near inches from hers, and she had felt nothing. Nothing but vague curiosity. A curiosity that had been satisfied, to a degree that she had never felt the need to experience it again.

And yet, for all the similarities between these two situations, she knew that the end result would be completely different. She knew she was on the verge of something that would be unlike anything she ever experienced before. And she knew she should turn away from it.

Because there was no hope here, no future.

But they were out in the wilderness together. Two travelers who had been alone for so long, finally meeting in one place. And it would never go beyond here. Would never go back to real life, would never be something that had a future. But there was now.

And she didn't have to pretend now, didn't have to act as though she had everything together. Because she had given that up when they'd come up the mountain. Had set it all aside and embraced the freedom in being honest about who she was, and what she knew. Because she had lowered her shield, and made herself vulnerable.

It was already done, so there was no point in pretending now.

Not when he had shared with her his greatest failing. Not when he had stripped himself bare for her.

“Right now? I feel as though
you
control me.” They were some of the hardest words she had ever spoken. One of the most difficult admissions she had ever made. “I feel like you've taken my body and made it yours. I don't know who I am. I don't know what I want.”

He gripped her chin, tilting her face up so that her eyes met his again. “Liar. You know what you want.”

“Does it matter what I want? Does it matter when nothing can come of it?”

“I have been lost in the past for a while now. And I have done nothing but plan for the future. Perhaps for this moment you and I can enjoy the present.”

His words echoed in her soul, reverberated through her. Because they were true for her, as well. The past had informed what she wanted for her future, and she had spent very little time actually in the present. She had always been looking ahead, using the things behind her to keep her moving.

But in her life, there had been no now. There had been no moments where she had simply existed.

But in this moment she wanted it. More than anything, she simply wanted now.

“It won't fix anything,” she said, her voice small.

“A great many things are unfixable. Are they not?” He shifted position, cupping her face with his hands, sliding his thumbs over her cheekbones, wiping the rain from her face.

“I suppose so. Although, it could be argued that we are just making more problems.” She didn't know why she was playing devil's advocate in this, because all she wanted him to do was lean in, touch his lips to hers. And it didn't matter that it was crazy. It didn't matter that this could never become anything. Didn't matter that he had forcibly dragged her to his country. Didn't matter that she had simply been using him to try and help Isabelle. None of it mattered. Because if those things mattered, it meant the rest of the world existed, and she was certain, in this moment, that it did not.

“A great many things could be argued. For one, that I should not touch you for your sake. For another...” He let his sentence trail off, and she allowed it. Because she didn't want to know what he'd been about say. She had an idea, but she didn't want the reminder.

“I'm a lot stronger than I look.”

And that was all she said before he dipped his head, pressing his mouth against hers. Their lips were slick with rainwater, and he angled his head, sliding his tongue across her upper lip and her lower lip, sipping the water from her skin. She shook, the decadent contact washing through her like a raging river devastating everything in its path. Reshaping the landscape, uprooting the anchors that had always held her fast.

He kissed the corner of her mouth, then the center, moving to the other corner before going back again. “Kiss me,” he said, his lips moving against hers.

She realized then that she was frozen, simply letting herself be washed away on this tide of pleasure, on this wave of need. And while it was a wonderful feeling, she was not the kind of woman to allow herself to drift out to sea.

She would swim against the current.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself more firmly against him, parting her 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 rough “—do you know what you're asking for?”

Pressure built in her chest, built in her body, squeezing her throat tight. All she could do was nod. And she hoped she was being honest.