"Why are you so nervous?" Malik demanded.
Zara shut her eyes for an instant. Fighting for
control, she forced herself to return his demanding look, more
intimidated by this man than any she’d met before.
"If I’m nervous, it’s because of who you are,"
she whispered the confession.
She caught the flash of pain that surged through
Malik and he actually flinched. "You have nothing to fear from me." He
turned his back on her. "I don’t take unwilling women to my bed."
This was either really good news or really bad.
If only she could discover which. "What are you saying?"
"I’m saying that I find the carpet a more than
adequate birthday gift." He turned to face her. Every scrap of emotion
had been wiped from his face, harsh lines carving deep grooves on either
side of his mouth. Even worse, his eyes reflected a remote coldness that
shook her to the core. She hadn’t realized how much warmth he’d offered
until it had been taken from her. "Your services won’t be required."
"You’re going to return me?"
Her panic increased. If he sent her back
untouched, chances were she’d be in the same desperate straits as when
she’d come up with this crazy plan. "Please don’t return me to Hakem."
"Why did my cousin choose you of all women?"
Malik demanded. "He wouldn’t have sent me an unwilling or inexperienced
woman. You must have known what you were doing when you agreed to come
here."
"I knew."
Taking a deep breath, she approached Malik.
Pausing directly in front of him, she fought for calm, fought to bank
the fear, fought harder still to follow the path she’d chosen days ago.
Even with her decision made, her heart rebelled. She’d had such dreams
of romance and true love. Foolish dreams. Youthful dreams. Dreams that
wouldn’t have come to pass whether she’d come here or remained in Rahman.
She braved herself to stare into Malik’s hard, black eyes, to forget all
the terrible tales she’d been told about this man.
Gently, she slipped her hands up the impressive
breadth of his chest and shoulders and laced them at the nape of his
neck. His hair was longer than convention dictated, the heavy ebony
waves caressing her fingers and wrists. He continued to stand stoically
before her, neither accepting her embrace nor rejecting it. The fact
that he didn’t push her away gave her the courage to take the next step.
"I’m not unwilling," she informed him.
His gaze grew watchful. "Nor are you willing. A
man can tell the difference, in case you weren’t aware."
"Perhaps you haven’t taken into consideration
that I’m shy."
His mouth curved into a wry smile. "Is that what
you call it? I’d have said you were in a flat out panic."
"I’m nervous," she conceded.
"Now we’re getting closer to the truth."
"I’m being as honest as possible, which is
difficult given the circumstances. But I thought you’d prefer honesty."
She tilted her head to one side, her silky hair spilling across his
chest. "Or am I mistaken?"
"You’re not mistaken. But it isn’t shy reserve
or nervousness I see in your eyes anymore than it’s desire." He trapped
her chin in his palm, lifting her face to his. She gasped at the
unexpected touch and his mouth compressed. "It’s fear I’m seeing."
In one more second, he’d reject her. She had to
act. Now. "Does this seem like fear to you?"
She lifted onto tiptoe and tightened her arms
about his neck, slipping her lips across his. By some miracle, she must
have done something right because his response was instantaneous. His
arms came around her, sweeping down the length of her spine to settle on
her hips. He pressed her tight against him, his taut thighs colliding
with her softer, feminine curves.
"You kiss like an innocent," he murmured.
She didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so
she spoke from the heart. "Then show me how you want me to kiss."
