The Sheikh's Arranged Marriage: The only thing worse than falling in love with the man she'd married was knowing he would never feel the same... (7 page)

Misreading her response, he
spoke quickly to reassure her. “Not immediately. There is no rush.”

His words had the opposite effect. Instead of feeling calmed, a sense of despair ate through her. He was hardly champing at the bit to breed her commoner genes into the royal pool, was he?

“There
is
staff though. Up there?” She nodded towards the building overlooking the pool.

He nodded. “I’m so used to being surrounded by staff and security that I consider that to be private.
” He regarded her carefully. “I suppose it will take a period of adjustment for you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever grow as used to it as someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Born to a position such as this. From the moment you first took breath you have been coddled and surrounded by wealth. It’s a very different way to live.”

“You are dodging the subject of children,” he said in a gently mocking voice. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

She felt a wave of nausea. Of course she wanted children. It’s just that to become pregnant they would need to...
consummate their marriage... and that made her very, very nervous. And very, very excited, too.

When she didn’t respond, he dipped his face, so that their eyes met. “You must like children?”

“Yes. I always wished I had a brother or sister, but my mum – my real mum – used to say I was enough of a handful for six kids.”

He raised his brows. He couldn’t quite reconcile that image of Rebecca with the very calm and in-control version he had married.

As if reading his mind, she shook her head slowly. “Winona and Greg very quickly taught me that the kind of backchat I used to give my parents wouldn’t fly in their home.”

“They were strict.”

“Strict doesn’t begin to describe it.” She shivered involuntarily and fixed him with a small grimace. “I prefer not to speak about them.”

He dipped his head in assent but his mind was ticking over this information. He knew she had lived with them until she’d come to Assan. Why would any woman of twenty four choose to continue living with guardians who were apparently so unpalatable? There was a bleakness in her brilliant blue eyes, as though someone had tamped down on the sparkle that usually danced within her irises.

He watched her face empty of light and felt a sort of constriction in his chest, as though a band had been wrapped around his midsection. He brought his hands to rest on her cheeks, one on either side of her face, fingers splayed wide. He lowered his mouth and pressed his lips lightly to hers, tasting the salty water from the pool on her.

The black lycra she wore covered her body modestly, but he could still feel. He could feel the swell of her pert breasts, the indent of her waist, and the curve of her bottom. He ached to slip his fingers inside the swimsuit and touch her soft flesh, but he didn’t want to
simply obliterate her sadness with sex. He wanted to comfort her, too. It was a new sensation for him, to feel so protective of a woman. It made him pull back, slowly, watch her face as she lifted her eyelids and stared straight back at him.

She turned her face away and bit down on her lower lip. He was trying so hard to feel attracted to her, but despite his best efforts, obviously he didn’t feel the same
overpowering urge that she did to remove clothes and entwine limbs and bodies. Why would he? Compared to the women he was used to, she was a very, very poor second choice.

She breathed out, shakily, then turned a watery smile on him. “I am going to turn into a prune if I don’t get out of this water.”

He nodded. “Come. Let’s get you dried off.”

She shot him a quizzical look as she pulled herself out of the pool and wrapped a large beach towel around herself.

He followed suit and she had to look away or the sight of him in a pair of brief black swimmers would have made her melt into a pool of desire. It was the most flesh a man had ever revealed to her, and just the sight of his broad chest, slim waist and strong thighs made her pulse race like fireflies beneath the skin.

“Look at me,” he commanded huskily. She swallowed, but did as he said. Her pupils dilated with desire as she stared at him, covered in water, his black hair slicked back from his face.
Realisation dawned on him as he saw her obvious inexperience communicated by everything from her stance to her wide eyed surprise. “You’ve never seen a naked man.” He surmised, and again, he felt that swelling feeling inside of his chest, that she had been waiting for him. Ludicrous, but a carnal thrill of ownership came over him.

She shook her head. “You’re not naked.” She pointed out stiltedly, her eyes dropping to the scrap of lycra. It was a mistake. His manhood was unmistakably outlined by the skin tight material. She gulped in air and looked away again.

Tariq stepped closer, then took hold of one of her slender wrists. “Touch me.” He said authoritatively, placing her fingertips lightly on his chest.

Her hand was shaking. She was nervous. He made her nervous! He hadn’t been with such
an innocent since, well, ever. The pressure to make their physical relationship special for Rebecca was onerous, when all he wanted to do was strip her naked and lay claim to her right here.

“Touch me,” he said again, through gritted teeth.

Hesitantly, she lifted the other hand, and pressed her fingertips into his tightly sculpted stomach. She ran her palm across each muscular abdominal ridge, gasping in awe at the finely honed strength beneath his olive skin. She dragged her hands over his pecs, to his shoulders, and then back down his back, but pulled away when she reached the top of the bathers. It felt like her fingertips had been burned by a million volts of electricity.

“My turn.” He growled, and knelt down, so that he could start his slow exploration at the delicate curve of her ankles. He ran the tip of his fingers up each leg, pausing when he got to the soft flesh of her inner thigh. He padded a thumb across her most feminine core, but, as she sucked in a deep breath of air, he skated further north, running his hands over her narrow hips, her waist, and up to her breasts. Standing now, he ran his thumbs in small, tight circles around her nipples, feeling them budding beneath his touch. She tipped her head back
on a whimper, exposing the slender column of her throat, and he kissed it hungrily, flicking the pulse point at the base of her neck with his tongue.

He wanted to undress her. He needed to see her naked again.

He lifted her easily and pressed her against his chest. She stared at him dazedly. “What are you doing?”

He stared resolutely ahead. He was wondering the same damned thing. What happened to taking it slow?
He would need to employ a monstrous amount of will power to get out of this with his honour intact. He shouldered open the door to his own bedroom, and placed her down in the centre. She stared up at him in confusion and he felt a small wave of doubt.

“I’m making sure you don’t catch a cold.” He said, more harshly that he’d intended.

But his words robbed Rebecca of the temporary fog of desire he’d swamped her with. She shook her head and wrapped her arms tightly around her chest. “I’m fine.” She said emphatically. “It’s a balmy evening.”

His expression softened. “You will only learn to be less shy when you are more accustomed to this,” he promised sensuously, latching his thumbs beneath the wide straps of her bathers and flicking them off her shoulders. He pulled gently until her breasts were exposed.

She caught her lip between her teeth as he took one nipple in his mouth, sucking at it until little darts of intense need were shooting outwards from the dusky aureole.

Rebecca thought she was going to collapse with the scorching heat he generated. He lifted his head and smiled at her, such a smile of promised pleasure and mutual lust that she answered it with a grin of her own. She forgot to be self-conscious. She forgot that he was probably just
faking an attraction. And she simply felt.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              
 
                                                                                                                                                                                                               

Tariq
brought his hands back to the wet material of her bathers and pulled them down her hips, away from her bottom and slid them the length of her legs. Then, he lifted her naked body and carried her through to his luxuriously appointed en suite.

She frowned as he broke their physical connection by placing her in the shower. He took a step back to turn on the taps, and warm water
rained down on her from an overhead showerhead. “Allow me,” he murmured quietly, taking a loofah in his hand and adding a gel that smelled like citrus and summer.

She nodded mutely, and
Tariq began to lather her body, starting at her back, and working his way downwards. Then, he gave his attention to her stomach, her breasts, and the special place beneath her legs. She leaned back against him as his fingers danced tantalisingly close to the part of her anatomy that she knew he could make sing. But he was careful to avoid a repeat of their wedding night. Rebecca groaned as again, he teased her, brushing a finger across her so lightly she almost didn’t feel it.

And although this was totally new to her, she itched to make him feel what she did. Could she do it? Could she make him want her? Really want her? She spun around in his arms, and her chest was slick with water and the spicy shower gel.
“Allow me,” she repeated his words back to her, as she eased the loofah from his grip.

He closed his eyes as she began to sponge his body, carefully washing his chest and stomach. His face was drawn. His cheeks were flushed. Yes. He was definitely feeling something. Trying not to let the uncertainty take over, she followed her instincts and knelt on the mosaic tiled floor of the shower.

“Rebecca...” he breathed warningly. Did she have any idea what her proximity alone did to him?

The look she gave him was one of such innocence that he
almost laughed. “Butter wouldn’t melt, huh?” He joked, but he was finding it almost impossible to control his appetite for her. Her hands weren’t at all steady as she slipped his bathing costume down, to reveal his glorious naked self. She gulped. Having never seen the necessary equipment, she was filled with doubt. How in the world was that ever going to... she coloured. This wasn’t about sex. It was about turning the tables on him. He touched her and her whole body felt like it was going to ignite in flames. Could she do the same to him?

She lifted her eyes to his face so that she could watch his reaction as she gently touched his length with her fingers. She wrapped herself around him, marvelling in the strength of his erection.
His dark brown eyes flared as she grew more confident, every touch making him jerk a little unsteadily.

“Okay—.” He exclaimed, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her to standing. “Enough.” His words were like ice and she frowned, feeling instantly embarrassed. Had she bored him? He had seemed to enjoy it, but... She turned away from him and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Rebecca,” He breathed out slowly, “that was good.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Just not good enough to want to continue.”

He scanned her face. Surely she couldn’t be left in any doubt of just how much he wanted her? She was inexperienced, but he’d been seconds away from exploding. Only fierce concentration had kept the inevitable at bay for as long as he had.

First in the office downstairs, and now here. He was making a habit of stirring them up and walking away. It wasn’t intentional. Any other woman, any other time, and
he wouldn’t have hesitated to carry her to his bed and make love to her all night long. But he’d never had a wife before. And he’d never known Rebecca before. Because she was his wife, and also just because of who she was, he wanted it to mean more than that.

But he couldn’t be near her without wanting to touch her, and he couldn’t touch her without
being lit alight by desire. What he needed was a way to get to know her that wasn’t so bloody incendiary. Being alone with her was just not a good idea. Not yet.

He switched off the water and wrapped a fluffy beige towel around her. Despite her height, it seemed to swamp her.

“Go, get dressed,” he started to say, but she turned around to face him, and her face was filled with an unexpected fury.