He moves closer, our bodies now brushing. “You do.” He rubs his thumb over my lower lip, quickly, not gently, just like the kiss at our wedding. “You like to fight with me.”
“I don’t like to fight with anyone.”
“Then why push me this way?”
He moves his finger to my chin, tilting my face to his.
“Because you were pushing me away,” I snap, and then wish I hadn’t. The admission is far too revealing. I cover it with cool impatience. “You didn’t like the questions I was asking, or maybe you didn’t like the reminder that my father is who he is, but you dealt with that by attempting to send me back to the tent, as though I’m some troublesome girl you can no longer be bothered with.”
His eyes lance me with the directness of his stare. “On the contrary, Amy, I want to bother myself with you very, very badly.” His intention is clear. My heart thumps and my knees tremble. “Particularly when you are cross with me. Sending you back to the tent was for your sake, not mine.”
I’m dumbfounded. Staring up at him, silently, I wait for the words to make sense, but they don’t. I’m at a loss. “I don’t understand.”
“The virgin act again?”
I shake my head. “I never said I haven’t had a boyfriend before.”
His features tighten into a mask of something I don’t understand. Nothing is making sense. The ancient night watches us, and I wish it could offer some explanation for how I’m feeling.
“But I’ve never known anyone like you,” I continue weakly, blinking my eyes away while my face stays willingly captive to his grip. “The men I’ve dated in the past have been so different to you. Quiet and intelligent, well-read, cerebral.”
“Non-threatening,” he supplies.
“I’m not threatened by you.”
“Not by me, but what you want from me.”
Heat stains my face. Am I so obvious?
“Yes, I understand how you feel, little one.” My eyes dart back to his. “You want to hate me for what I did to your father, and yet at the same time, you want me to make love to you. You don’t want a baby with me, and yet you want to feel my body move within yours, simply for the pleasure you know I can give you.” His words reach inside me, shifting things around, making me intimately aware of every cell in my body.
There’s no sense in lying. “I do want that.” I face his eyes bravely now, courage stirring through me with the admission. “I’ve never met a man and felt such an instant attraction. I can’t explain it, and God knows I resent it. Why you, of all people?”
His lips twist in a humourless smile. “A question I have asked myself, believe me.”
My eyes widen.
“Yes, azeezi, I feel it too.”
“But you’re far more experienced,” I murmur. “You must be used to this kind of thing.”
His head dips forward. “It’s true, I’ve known many women.”
Jealousy spears me, sharp and unexpected.
“But you’re the first wife I’ve wanted.”
It’s a joke, and I smile, flattered in spite of the fact it’s meaningless; I’m his only wife.
“I didn’t come here for this.”
“Here on our honeymoon?”
“Here to Qabid.” I valiantly search for my dignity. “It’s not just how you look. I’d seen pictures; I knew you were handsome. But when I walked into your office yesterday,” I frown, looking at my watch. “The day before,” I correct. “I felt…”
His eyes roam mine, his nod slow. “It was the same for me.”
“So why tell me to go back inside?”