Grunting, he captured her other breast.
The surge of relief was almost as huge as the surge of excitement when his thumbs circled the engorged peaks.
‘I’m still going to kill Kasim,’ he muttered, but then he bent to lift her into his arms.
He carried her to the bed and dropped her on the pile of pillows, then climbed up and caged her in. The robe had fallen open to reveal one breast; he fastened hungry lips to the responsive peak. She bucked, a ragged moan issuing from her lips at the drawing sensation in her core. The sound of rending silk tore through the staggered sound of their breathing as he ripped the robe apart and laid her bare.
Her body trembled with sensation, her throat closing on emotion as she plunged her fingers into his hair and he pressed the heel of his palm between her legs. He watched her, his blue gaze wild, feral, as he eased first one finger, then two into her sex.
‘You’re still so tight,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘You won’t,’ she said. ‘What should I do?’ she asked.
‘How much did you see, earlier?’ he said, working her swollen flesh and finding the stiff nub at the top of her sex with his thumb.
‘Everything,’ she said, her voice hoarse with longing as she moved against the tantalising caress.
He huffed a laugh, then took her hand and placed it on the thick erection. ‘Hold me,’ he said.
She curled her fingers around him and caressed him in tentative strokes, rejoicing as the firm flesh leapt and throbbed against her palm.
‘Slow down, or I’m not going to last long.’ He groaned, pressing his face into her hair.
They lay together, teasing, tempting, torturing, learning each other’s responses, learning just where and how to touch to bring joy.
She cried out, lifting up to meet the thick thrust of his fingers, desperate to feel that final oblivion. Her nails scored the ruined skin of his back as he rocked into her hand and he massaged the walls of her sex with his touch, nudging a place so deep inside she panted in desperation.
She clung to the high wide plain of pleasure, her fingers slipping on his sweat-slicked skin as he forced her over that final edge.
The wave of pleasure broke over her, and she heard him shout out against her neck, then tense as his seed splashed against her belly.
She lay for what felt like hours, holding his head against her neck, running her fingers through his hair. Trying to pull back the emotions unleashed by their coupling and bury them deep.
Just sex. Only sex. Don’t go there. You can’t afford to make this more than that.
Eventually Zane raised his head. ‘Maybe I won’t kill Kasim after all.’
She smiled, or tried to, the pulse of emotion making it hard for her to speak.
She felt cold and strangely bereft as he levered himself off the bed and walked back over to the copper tub. The torchlight limed the smooth muscular line of his body and flickered over the scars—which seemed as much a part of him as the proud tilt of his head, and the powerful bunch of his biceps.
He returned with a wet cloth and proceeded to wipe his seed off her belly. Then he delved between her legs, gently cleaning the oversensitive folds. She lay patiently, letting him take care of her, her whole body shuddering, as she tried not to make too much of his tenderness.
Zane was a conscientious and pragmatic man. He probably treated Pegasus the same way after a hard ride, she thought, then winced at the realisation she’d just managed to compare herself to his horse. But the foolish thought had the desired effect, locking the unnecessary emotions back where they belonged when he threw the cloth away and climbed into the bed with her.
He dragged her into his arms, and held her close. He didn’t say anything, but she felt the intimacy of what they’d shared like a heavy blanket, binding them together as she listened to his breathing in the semi-darkness.
‘Did your father give you those terrible scars, Zane?’ she murmured, unable to hold back the need to know any longer. Maybe the connection she felt to him was all an illusion, brought on by sexual chemistry, an exhausting journey and the very slim possibility that they might well have a shared future neither of them had planned for. But she felt it nonetheless.
Whatever happened tomorrow, tonight, in this tent, in this desert, they were just two lonely people, and she wanted to know everything she could about him—and how he had become such a strong, indomitable ruler from such difficult beginnings.
His chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh as his fingers played with her hair. ‘He didn’t do it himself. He ordered his bodyguards to discipline me for trying to run away. But he always watched.’
Her fingers stilled on his chest. The chilling picture he painted dispelling the last of the afterglow.
‘Zane?’ She shifted so she could see his face, harsh and drawn in the half-light. ‘I’m so sorry. That’s horrific.’ She imagined the violent marks that covered his back and buttocks and realised he must have been punished—or disciplined—like that more than once. What must it have been like for him? A boy torn away from everything and everyone he knew to live in a strange land, at the mercy of a man who was the opposite of a loving father?
‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said, his thumb touching her cheek and trailing down to press against her pulse. ‘It was a long time ago.’