‘No,’ she agreed softly. ‘And yet...’
Amir held his breath.
‘This is something we shouldn’t discuss.’
He forced himself to sound normal. ‘Why not?’
‘Because we’re sleeping together.’
‘And we’re both aware that’s where this ends. I’m not harbouring a secret desire to marry you,’ he said, trying to make it sound as though the very idea was ridiculous.
‘I know.’ Her voice was quiet. Wounded? Now he felt like a jackass. ‘I guess I feel like there’s the whole duty thing. Paris is from a great family. Our marriage makes sense. I like him. I don’t know if I’d ever trust my own judgement again, when it comes to men, let alone trusting someone else after Matthew. Maybe Paris isn’t...’
Amir had changed his mind. He couldn’t listen to her talk about the prospect of marrying someone else without wanting to burn the world down. He hadn’t expected to feel so possessive of her, but he did. He couldn’t fight that, or deny it.
‘You are a passionate woman, Johara. If you marry, it should be because your passions are aroused, because your heart is caught, and because you know—beyond a doubt—that the man deserves you. Not because he’s nice and your brother thinks he’s suitable.’
Her lips parted, her eyes lifting to his. ‘And is that how you’ll choose a wife?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s different.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m Sheikh. I don’t have the luxury of marrying a woman I choose for any reason other than her suitability to rule at my side.’
They stood there on the edge of the forest, so close, eyes locked, hearts beating in unison, the conversation troubling to both for reasons they couldn’t fathom.
Distraction came in the form of one of the juniya birds. It flew close to Johara’s head, drawing her attention, and she followed it beyond the last tree, her eyes catching the water for the first time. She gasped, shaking her head. Stars shone overhead, bathing the still water in little dots of silver.
‘What is this place?’
He saw it through her eyes—the large stones that formed walls, creating the feeling of a fortress, the calm water on the edge of the desert, enormous trees that decorated the circumference but left space for the stars to shine.
‘My swimming pool.’ He grinned, willingly pushing their conversation aside as he pulled on her hand. ‘Are you game?’
She flicked a nervous look at him. ‘I don’t have a bathing costume...’
He drew her closer, pressing his nose to hers. ‘Didn’t you hear me? This is private...’
Awareness dawned and she laughed, reaching for the bottom of her shirt. ‘I see.’
He stepped back as she discarded her clothes, stripping down to her underwear, then removing that scrap of lace, so she was completely naked. He made a growling noise low in his throat, possession firing through him. She took a step forward, her eyes asking a question he answered with a nod. Her fingers caught the fabric of his clothes, lifting them from his body, more slowly than she had her own, so that he wanted to take over, to strip himself naked and pull her against him.
He didn’t.
He stood and he waited, his body being stirred to a fever pitch of desire he could barely handle.
Slowly, painstakingly slowly, she undressed him, her fingers grazing his flesh as she went. Her eyes were huge in the moonlight, dark pools every bit as mesmerising as the water beyond them.
‘It’s beautiful here.’ Her voice was thick; he could only jerk his head in agreement.
Her lips moved forward, pressing against his tattoo, and as she did so she whispered the words, ‘Amor fati’. They reached inside him, wrapping around his heart, his soul, the essence of his being.
He loved his fate. He’d worked to love it, when it had been, at times, the last thing he wanted. His fate was not this woman; she was an aberration, a temporary pleasure—a guilty pleasure. One he found himself utterly powerless to resist.
CHAPTER TEN
‘HOW LONG DID you live in New York?’