His Irresistible Darling (17 page)

“Hey,” she challenged with a smile on her face. “I resemble that remark!”

Jumal chuckled at her joke but pressed on. “Well, anyway, I saw what a close family you all were. How much your parents loved you both and each other, and God the whole village seemed to revolve around your family, Melville House and the Horse Stud Farm. I loved spending time just watching your father work with the horses. He would let me indulge my love of horses, which I’d had to hide from my own father like it was some dirty little secret. He never understood and I ended up being exactly what he wanted me to become. A successful businessman in Dubain, taking on the role of sheik.” He closed his eyes. “Of course he was never happy with how I did things—thought I was too liberal and allowing Western culture to influence my decisions and planning, particularly the religious freedom we’ve worked hard to secure for minorities. What the hell he thought was going to happen by sending me off for a Western university education I have no idea.”

“So what did he say when you told him that you and Faridah were no longer engaged?”

“I haven’t told him. He’ll find out through the normal gossip channels and I’m not bothered. I’ve decided to take your advice and just ignore bullies.”

She pursed her lips. “Hmm, well I’m not sure that’s the right way to deal with your dad. Maybe you just need to tell him. Now stop talking whilst I do this bit,” she lectured, her tongue darting out once again as she concentrated while running the blade over his throat.

She stood back with her hands on her hips and she scrutinised his face and appraised her work.

“All done. Here,” she said, handing him her hand mirror.

He ran a hand over his face. “Not bad. Not bad at all, Miss Darling,” he said, moving his reflection from side to side, genuinely impressed.

***

“Now close your eyes.” At his quizzical look she added, “Trust me.” He nodded, following her instruction.

“I’m going to ask you to smell three different oils in a minute. Just tell me which you prefer.” At his nod, she continued. “Okay,” she said, taking hold of his hand and rubbing the first oil onto the back of it. “Here’s the first…”

Having chosen the last oil she manoeuvred him back into the lounge, carefully placing a plethora of oils and potion bottles on the low table and taking up position on the sofa with her back against one end, cushions plumped between her legs. She patted the cushion. “Right, come on. Make yourself comfortable.”

He took a deep breath. Every instinct and warning in his thirty-four-year-old brain was yelling at him that this was a bad idea—a very bad idea. Hell, he’d have his head right between her legs
…
Yet he found his feet slowly walking over to the sofa and taking up position, ensuring his robe remained tightly closed.

“Comfortable?” she checked, looking down over him.

“Not in the least—”

“Excellent,” she interrupted, choosing to ignore him as she reached over for the first bottle. “Now close your eyes and keep them closed and give yourself permission to enjoy this and relax.”

Easier said than done with my head right where I’ve wanted it to be for the last twelve months or so…but I’ll give it a go…

“Okay, take three deep breaths through your nose for me,” she instructed, covering his nose gently with her cupped hands. He inhaled the soothing oil he’d picked. She’d said something about the body choosing which oil it needed. Perhaps, unsurprisingly, he’d ended up choosing the one for relaxation…

Her hand now moved to his shoulders and she tugged slightly at the collar of his robe so that her oil-covered hands rested on his exposed shoulders. He tensed automatically. She applied more pressure and told him to take three more deep breaths, and she increased the pressure further until he felt his shoulders finally drop.

“You carry a lot of tension in your neck and shoulders, Jumal. You probably aren’t even aware of it. You really do need to learn to relax more,” she lectured, but her voice was soft and melodic.

Jumal was beyond speech and merely grunted his agreement as she applied a colder substance to his face. His eyes were still closed as she gently worked her fingers over his face in a repetitive, slow motion until she finally applied an even cooler potion with cotton wool, which made his skin tingle in response. But she saved the best for last when she once again covered her small hands with that oil he’d picked and she performed a massage on his face, her fingers slowly manipulating along his jawline—back and forth several times.

He felt his head sink further back into the cushion to soak up her touch as she moved up and along the bridge of his nose to his brow and repeated the massage along his brow, her fingers then slowly tracing his eyebrows, tracing around under the sensitive part of his eye sockets and back up his nose. She did it over and over rhythmically until finally dropping her fingers to his ears and massaging his sensitive lobes and around the shell of his ear.

Jumal felt his calf muscles tighten as he fought the urge to squirm but he couldn’t stop his toes from curling at her ministrations, and he thought he might have let out a low moan of pleasure. He bent his knees slightly to hide his feet. When her oiled fingers traced over his lips gently, he fought his primitive instinct to open his mouth and allow his lips to capture those wicked fingers, run his tongue over them—maybe bite teasingly on their pads…

She stopped her massage for a moment and he was just about to complain and beg for her to go on when her hands were once again covering his face with another product, but this one didn’t smell like the oil. It was a thicker, gloopier substance.

He didn’t try to hide his smug smile when once again her magic, oil-covered hands returned to his body and moved across his collarbone, being extra careful around the hairline fracture, and upwards to massage at his shoulders with more of the miracle oil. Her hands moved around to the back of his head and she took hold of his head in one of her hands as she began to run her fingers through his hair and massage his scalp. This was better than sex, Jumal thought for a moment, but then corrected himself. It wouldn’t be better than sex with Pippa—and with that, the naughty side of his brain went off with thoughts of Miss Darling and that magic oil…

***

“And he finally sleeps,” Pip murmured as she felt the full weight of Jumal’s head in her hands. He gave up the useless fight, surrendered and let his body float away in sleep. His head turned to the side and she slowly manoeuvred her body out from under his and over the end of the sofa, placing another cushion at the side of his head. Pleased that he was going to remain asleep, she bent over to rub at her own legs, which had gone dead about an hour or so ago. She spotted the clock over the mantel. They’d been lying for over two hours, she mused, as her tummy rumbled as a reminder.

As she stretched, she admired the length of his body, allowing her eyes to linger over his exposed thigh. He hadn’t opened his eyes the whole time and she assumed he’d been unaware that his robe had fallen to the side when she shifted his position about halfway through her facial. Her eyes had focused in on his thigh like it was prey, but she’d dragged her eyes away and back to his face for fear that those dark green eyes would suddenly dart open and catch her ogling. She definitely remembered licking her lips at the sight. As her own mind had begun to relax at the repetitive motion of her massage, her thoughts had drifted back to that deliciously naughty wet dream she’d been having about Jumal, her legs tightening slightly around his restful body.

Eventually, once the blood was once again flowing through all parts of her legs, she looked down and admired her sleeping client, pleased with her results and allowing herself a soft giggle at Jumal sleeping with his legs now crossed at the ankles, arms tucked together at his chest, his face covered with her green face mask and his hair messed with her oil.

She grabbed her phone from the table and took a picture. She typed out a message to go out with the picture on her social media… After all, she’d won the bet, right? But as her fingers hovered over the “send” button, she glanced over again at Jumal, lying sound asleep, having trusted her to relax his body—and now, she felt like she was about to betray him with another prank. She had trusted him enough to tell him the very darkest parts of her childhood and he hadn’t judged her but, instead, had told her about his own difficult childhood—something that the Great Jumal would not have done lightly or to just anyone.

Decision made, she let her fingers fly over the keys as she saved her new screen saver: “My very own Shrek.”

***

Jumal wasn’t listening to the argument presently taking place between his board members miles across town in the boardroom back at his office. Grateful that he was able to sit in his study at home and ignore them on the speakerphone, his mind was on Pippa. Again. This time, he was running his mind back over that facial she had given him a week ago. He rolled his head around on his shoulders, still feeling the benefit of her blissful massage. He remembered secretly hoping that she would offer to give him another facial in the next couple of days and that this time, when those magic hands of hers graced his collarbone that they would drift lower, fingers exploring lower over his highly sensitive nipples, which none of his previous lovers had ever taken the time to discover or ask about…lower further until…

He ended his conference call at the alarming smell coming from somewhere in the apartment.

“What’s burning?” he asked, having tracked the smell to the kitchen where Pippa stood over a pan on the hob. He took up position directly behind her and risked a peek over her shoulder, into a pan of bubbling…stuff. A few days ago, having returned from her holiday, Maria, his housekeeper, had told him that she’d replaced the burnt pans that she had noticed had been thrown out in the bins outside. Now he understood.

“It’s not
burning
,” she replied, offended. “It’s er—simmering.”

“Hmm,” Jumal uttered, looking suspicious. “If you’re sure,” he added.

Pippa slammed the wooden spoon down on the counter and turned to face him, hands on hips. “What?” she exclaimed, tilting her head.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head, backing off a step and holding his palms up in defence.

She started to turn back to the pan. “But,” he began and she stopped mid-turn and eyed him over her shoulder. “Have you actually tasted it?” he enquired, risking life and limb.

She tried to stare him out. “Hand me a teaspoon, Aldabbagh,” she demanded, holding her palm out to him.

Jumal opened the drawer and placed the implement into her open palm like he was handing a knife to a surgeon and looked on as she turned away and dipped the spoon in the pan, blew on the steam and tasted it, smacking her lips together. It seemed to him that minutes passed…before she straightened, rolled her shoulders back, reached for the menus she’d pinned to the fridge and said, “Chinese or Thai takeaway.”

He smiled at her admission and raised a brow. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, taking an apron from the back of the door and throwing it to her. “You’re my new commis chef.”

***

The next hour passed in a wonderful domestic whirl as they created their dinner; the kitchen filled with delicious smells as Pip took his direction perfectly: chopping spring onions, dicing and frying off chicken with garlic, adding chunks of chorizo, a sprinkling of paprika, Spanish rice, chicken stock and a generous glug of sherry. He clarified sherry was his mother’s tipple of choice at her quizzical look when he grabbed it from the cupboard. They were making paella.

They shared a glass of the sherry while waiting for the rice to cook, drinking it the traditional Spanish way, with huge amounts of ice and soda. Pippa regaled him with the goings-on and gossip from the office. He listened half-heartedly whilst she told him about Melina and how she was pining for that James chap. In truth, Jumal was distracted by the alien feelings of comfort and cosiness that came with their domestic scene. He was content—happy and trying to think of the best way to ask for another facial…

After twenty minutes or so he dipped the same small spoon Pip had used earlier in the pan and blew on it gently, before tasting it and then offering it to Pippa. Their eyes met as she opened her mouth and tasted. He stared dumfounded as her tongue quickly licked her lips. His gaze flashed to hers and caught a look in her eyes of pure human need, likely reflected in his eyes. The look that passed between them was a game changer.

He twisted around to turn off the heat under the pan and dropped the spoon on the island counter behind Pippa, taking a step closer to her body, giving her time to move away once she saw his raw intentions. She was pinned against the black marble counter top but remained statuesque save for the telltale rise and fall of her chest, containing her racing heart, which mimicked his. She swallowed nervously and bowed her head as he took the final step, which put his body flush against hers. He reached out to cup her chin and raise her eyes; she yielded to his touch. His breath caught as their eyes met again and—BAM.

A moment when time stopped and only the two of them existed. No worries about what their families would think. Just them, drawn together by invisible strings, powerless to do anything but come together.

His hand fell away from her chin but only so he could trace the tips of his fingers tantalisingly down her neck to her clavicle. He heard her breath hitch.

***

Pip’s head was buzzing. There was something important that she needed to say, but goddamn it she just couldn’t think what the hell it was. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but the fact that Jumal was touching her body.
Oh…my…God
—Jumal was touching her. It felt like she was in high school again and it was the first time Jimmy “bloody” Stears had “twanged” her bra strap. She giggled at the bizarre and somewhat inappropriate thought even as an excited shiver radiated through her body.

“If you’re laughing I’m not doing this right, Pip, and you’re hurting my ego,” he complained lightly, nipping at her shoulder. Her core clenched in reply and her knees buckled.