Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 1. Jane Porter

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СКАЧАТЬ stuff, he realised. This was the first time he had seen her completely naked.

      ‘You are very beautiful,’ he said evenly.

      But as his golden eyes slid over her Lara felt a little like one of the Akhal-Teke horses, being appraised for her physical attributes alone. ‘Thank you.’

      He pulled her into his arms, feeling her tension dissolve as he ran his fingertips up and down the smooth, satin flesh. ‘Get into the bath,’ he said huskily. ‘You’re shivering.’

      The warm, silken water lapped over her skin, and she sank deep into it, watching while he stripped off his shirt and his jodhpurs until he was as naked as a gleaming, golden statue.

      ‘Move over,’ he instructed, and then his eyes became smoky and he smiled, his voice softening to a whisper. ‘Actually, don’t. Stay just where you are.’

      Lara had never made love in a bath before and it was another out-of-world experience—the water providing weightlessness and making their kisses slippery wet, their limbs sliding and entwining and mingling until the obliteration of orgasm left her reeling and empty.

      The water was cool by the time she opened her eyes, to find him looking at her.

      ‘We’d better get out,’ he said.

      She nodded, but drew a deep breath, knowing that unless the subject were broached it would always be like an unspoken barrier between them. ‘Darian, have you…have you forgiven me?’

      ‘For?’

      ‘For keeping secrets. And one in particular.’

      His eyes narrowed. Why bring that up again, and especially now? ‘It’s forgotten.’

      ‘Seriously?’

      He shrugged his broad, gleaming shoulders, and tiny droplets of water ran down the tawny skin. ‘I understand why you did it, okay?’

      ‘That isn’t the same as forgiveness.’

      ‘Hell, Lara—can’t you just leave it alone?’

      ‘No, I can’t!’ With an effort she disentangled herself and climbed out of the bath—because somehow this needed to be said when she wasn’t touching him, because touching distracted them both and detracted from the importance of what she was saying. ‘I need you to know that when I said sorry I really meant it.’

      He sighed as he followed her out and let the water go, hearing it gurgling and sucking away. Her words had the unmistakable ring of truth and regret, and they chipped away at his resolve. It was easier to think of her as foxy and deceptive, rather than soft and giving and warm and regretful. Qualities like that made him forget that this was something not dissimilar to a holiday romance. Two attractive people thrown together in a beautiful place, giving in to the pleasures of the senses without any of the hassle of normal day-to-day living.

      ‘Forgiven and forgotten,’ he said, and took her into his arms. ‘Now, smile for me.’ He dropped a kiss onto her trembling lips. ‘That’s better. Mmm. That’s much better. Let’s go to bed.’

      ‘Now?’

      ‘Sure—why not? Dinner isn’t for hours.’

      His body was close. Close and warm and overwhelming. ‘That wasn’t what I meant,’ she said weakly.

      He pushed himself even closer. ‘I know it wasn’t. But, in answer to your unspoken and rather sweet question, the answer is yes, I want to go to bed and make love to you. Again. But if you’re tired…? He tilted her chin upwards, dazzled by the lost, dazed look in her blue eyes.

      Tired? She had never felt more awake nor more on fire in her life. She stared into his face. The tawny hue of his skin was shadowed by the sculpted cheekbones and the faint darkening around his jaw. His lips parted a fraction and she touched her fingertip to them, tracing a line around them, biting back a wistful sigh. She wished that the doors of the palace could be boarded up and the two of them locked in here for ever, because she recognised that she had fallen in love with him, without rhyme or reason, nor even the comfort of having known him first as a friend.

      She lowered her lashes, afraid that he might be able to read the emotion in her eyes, terrified that it would send him running—as surely it would. ‘No, I’m not tired,’ she murmured.

      He gave a low laugh of delight, loving the way she gave him that demure little look even while the tension which was shivering over her body told him that she was feeling anything but demure.

      He reached out and untied the knot of the belt at her waist, so that the robe fell open. He slid his hand inside, to cup her breast, its sinful weight resting in the palm of his hand, and felt the swift spasm of desire so strong and so intense that it was close to pain.

      He was almost beyond words. Again. He shook his head, as if doing that would make clear some of the confusion making it spin. One touch and he was lost—or was that simply because he had been fighting her since they had arrived in Maraban? Surely it was just his appetite made keener by deprivation, rather than some dark, erotic power exerted by Lara, who could switch from wanton to demure and then back again?

      ‘Come on,’ he said huskily. ‘Let’s lie down before I fall down.’

      ‘Not again! You really are a fallen man, aren’t you?’ she teased, because somehow it was easier to keep it light than to struggle with the enormity of how her feelings for him had just crept up and changed irrevocably. She wound her arms around his neck and looked up at him.

      ‘I’ll show you just how much, shall I?’ he questioned softly, and picked her up and carried her through to the bed.

      They slid between the Egyptian cotton sheets and he ran his fingertips lightly over her.

      ‘Do you realise we’re in bed properly together, at last? No sofas, no stables and no baths.’ He gave her a look of mocking query. ‘Isn’t this how most people tend to do it, Lara?’

      She doubted it. That was her last sane thought as he moved his hand between her legs. Surely it couldn’t feel this good for other people? Surely they had just invented something new—just him and her? And could it just get better and better, like this? she asked herself afterwards in disbelief, as wave after wave of pleasure racked through her body once more.

      Don’t analyse; enjoy. Pretend it’s a dream from which you’ll never waken.

      From that day on it felt like a honeymoon—without the declared love and the wedding, of course, but the days had about them a dreamy and blissful quality which was how she had always imagined a honeymoon to be. No worries and no reality. Lazy mornings and long, beautiful nights. And if Lara was acutely aware that it couldn’t last for ever, that the sands of time were running out for what was only ever intended to be a short stay, she didn’t confront it. Sometimes it was easier to hide from reality than have to face it.

      Darian was no longer up at the crack of dawn to go to the stables, but Khalim still took them both out riding straight after breakfast each morning. Darian improved day by day—he was like a sponge, soaking up every single thing that Khalim told him and then fearlessly putting it into action.

      ‘He will beat me yet,’ Khalim sighed to Lara the first time Darian galloped, giving an exultant СКАЧАТЬ