Needing to feel his naked skin against hers, she scrabbled at his thobe, yanking the traditional garment up and over his head, whimpering when that meant breaking their kiss, and going right back to it when the material was out of the way.
She twined her hands behind his neck, pressing her body against his, her already-excited nipples, tender from all his ministrations the night before rubbing against the silky curls on his chest.
She moaned in pleasure at this caress that had always been one of her favorites. Though she liked it even better with his chest hair left to grow naturally. There was just something so wild about her body taking pleasure from his and knowing how much he liked her to do so. Knowing that he was getting every bit as turned on as she was, the need between them growing like an out-of-control tornado.
His hands moved down her body with swift, sure movements to cup her bottom, and then he lifted her so his already-hardened flesh brushed against the apex of her thighs.
Needy sounds filled the steamy air around them, so like six years ago and yet so different. He was stronger now. His reactions were even more primal than they used to be, as if he’d stopped attempting to rein himself in. And she loved that.
She was more aware of what the world of sex had to offer and…not to offer. Innocent embarrassment at her own desires was a thing of the past. She knew how magical this was now, how much she would miss it when it was gone—so she reveled in every second, every breath and touch.
Even the hunger between them was both familiar and altogether different. It was so much stronger now, though she never would have believed that possible. Her craving for him was an ache inside her, but his want was out there for both of them to see and wholly undeniable. He had made love to her short hours before, but the urgency in his touch was as if they had yet to reach their first orgasm.
She felt movement and then her back against the cool tile of the wall. His grip shifted so that he had her thighs over his forearms, her legs spread, her sex open to him.
He pressed against her, but waited as if asking if this was what she wanted. She tilted her hips and pressed down, taking the tip of his engorged sex inside stretched and swollen tissues unused to so much activity.
It didn’t hurt; she was experiencing too much pleasure for that, but she felt it. Felt her body stretch to accommodate him, felt the slide of his hard-on against her inner walls, filling her in a way only he could do.
He tilted her just enough so that his head rubbed against her G-spot on both the pull and push of every thrust of his hips.
Ecstasy built inside her one electric jolt at a time until she was writhing against him as he possessed her. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe. It was too much and not enough.
He knew. He always knew.
He swiveled his hips, grinding against her sweet spot with his pelvic bone and she shattered. She was barely aware as he shouted out his own release, his hot essence filling her core.
And if a ridiculous wish that she didn’t have the uterine insert played through her mind, no one else ever need know.
She’d given up her dreams of babies and her own family when he’d walked out of her life six years ago. So, the dream wasn’t quite as dead as she believed. That was a weakness she would forgive herself.
They stayed like that, connected against the wall, for several long moments, the only sound their harsh breathing. Eventually, he made noise that could have been approval or something else, she was too out of it herself to really tell.
But it was followed by him carrying her to the shower and she realized the sound might even have been words. They bathed each other with the delicious-smelling soap Genevieve was so partial to.
They were soaking in the hot spring pool when Asad said with all the seriousness and more chagrin than she’d ever witnessed in him, “I forgot the condom.”
Only then did she realize she hadn’t told him she was covered for birth control.
“Are you clean?” she asked softly, aware that pregnancy wasn’t the only thing a modern woman had to worry about when having sex.
She sincerely doubted he was a reckless lover, but he had forgotten the condom when he didn’t realize she could not get pregnant.
He stared at her in confusion for several seconds before understanding dawned in his brown gaze and he growled, “I am not diseased.”
“I’m not trying to offend you. It was a legitimate question.”
“So you say. I say we have a much more serious worry to consider here.”
“No, we don’t.”
“You are on the pill?” He looked astonished by the idea.
She wasn’t about to be offended by that. She didn’t date. Her last sex had been with him; she hadn’t been willing to trust anyone else with the intimacy since. “No. I have a uterine insert.”
“Why?”
“Do we really have to talk about this?”
“Yes. I want to know.” He sure didn’t sound like it, though.
“You couldn’t be like other men and just pretend this part of my life is a great mystery, could you?” she asked hopefully.
“No,” he practically snarled.
“Don’t get mad.” He was such a caveman sometimes. “It’s not a big deal. I just had difficult periods and wanted to do something about it. My doctor suggested the insert, and I don’t have any bleeding at all now. It’s a huge relief, considering how much time I spend in the field and a lot of it in more primitive conditions than this.”
She was sure that was more than he ever wanted to know, but she got a perverse pleasure in giving him the gritty details. After all, he was the one who insisted on knowing and got all cranky when she’d hesitated telling him.
“Will it affect your ability to have children?”
“I doubt I’ll ever be a mother, but not because I won’t be capable of getting pregnant. There’s no risk of infertility.” She frowned at him, letting him know that this was not her favorite topic of conversation. “Can we be done with this conversation now?”
“Yes.” He looked far too complacent.
Maybe that explained what popped out of her mouth next. “Did you bring Badra here?” she asked, realizing almost immediately how much she wanted to bite her own tongue off.
First, because of course he’d brought Badra here; the princess had been his wife. And second, because Iris really didn’t want to know about it. Not even a little.
Idiot.
“No.”
“What?” No?
“My grandfather showed me this place on the eve of my wedding, but Badra insisted on being married in her father’s palace.”
“Wouldn’t that be traditional?” And why would it prevent Asad from bringing his wife to the private bathing chamber when they returned to his city of tents?
“Not for a sheikh of my people. Even my parents were married here.”
“Oh, but she wanted to get married with the traditions of her family?” That was understandable.
“She wanted to put off joining the encampment for as long as possible, though I did not realize it at the time. She’d convinced me to take her on a tour of Europe for our honeymoon.”
“Um, sounds special?” Iris’s comment came out more a question than a statement because he sounded so disdainful of their honeymoon plans.
“Our tradition would have dictated I take her into the desert for a time of privacy and bonding. She refused.”
“So she wasn’t much of a camper.”
“S
he was a poor wife and even worse Bedouin. Badra was not a virgin on our wedding night.”
CHAPTER TEN
“THAT must have been a shock to you.” A really unpleasant one, too.
Remembering back to their breakup, she knew how important sexual innocence had been to Asad. Probably still was. Iris hadn’t realized it when they were dating, but when he told her it was over he’d made a lot of things clear that had been hazy before that. Like the fact that Iris could never be in the running for Asad’s future wife because she’d had a sexual partner before him.
Even now, with their friendship firmly intact, she couldn’t think of Darren as a former lover. There had been no love in the loss of her virginity. Not even on her part.
Iris had thought Asad’s attitude pretty much prehistoric, but her opinion hadn’t counted. And he’d walked away to marry the not-so-perfect Badra.
“She was also pregnant.”
“What? Nawar isn’t yours?” Iris asked in shock.
But there was no doubting the bond between the beautiful little girl and her father.
“She is mine,” Asad fiercely contradicted. “Though she carries none of my genetic makeup, Nawar is in all ways that count my beloved daughter.”
“But that’s…” Unbelievable.
Or kind of funny in a gallows-humor kind of way. Not that his daughter didn’t share his gene pool, but because of the way he’d rejected Iris so completely based on her lack of innocence. Only, Iris had been way more virginal in the ways that counted than the already-pregnant Badra. That was for sure.
But mostly, the whole situation with Badra seemed really, really sad. She’d deceived Asad and Nawar had been made a pawn in a marriage paved with bad intention before she’d ever been born.
“I’m sorry.” Iris really, really was.
“Do not be. The one good thing I got out of my marriage to Badra was my precious gem, Nawar.”
Iris liked hearing that; it gave her confidence that under the more cynical and dour exterior, Asad was still the same man who had once really been her best and truest friend. His willingness to share what had to be his deepest secret with her showed that regardless of the intervening years of silence, he still saw her in that light.