He lifted his hands to her breasts, covering them indolently, possessively, lazily, feeling the weight of them in his palms.
Her breath was tight, burning inside her lungs.
“Yet you’re here…”
His eyes narrowed, and his fingers lifted to the straps of her bathers. Watching her, waiting for her to say something, perhaps to demur, he slid the straps lower. She shivered as they ran over her arms, and he dragged them lower still, revealing her breasts completely to his proprietary inspection. “I heard you splashing.”
She bit down on her lower lip, her body swaying forward slightly in an unspoken invitation. “You should have joined me.”
His eyes dropped to her breasts now, to where his fingers were curved around her flesh. She let out a whimper as he took one nipple between his forefinger and thumb, rolling it and increasing his pressure until she moaned, tilting her head back, staring at a sky that was growing darker by the minute.
“Don’t shower,” she pleaded, not even remotely ashamed to beg that of him. “Not yet.”
His eyes lifted to her face, and there was a battle being waged inside of him. A war of control, a fight for sanity.
“I must.” He gave her nipple one last squeeze, tight, and her gut kicked in response, her insides slicking with moist heat.
Her pulse was a livewire.
“Then why don’t I come and wash you,” she murmured, wondering at this heady sense of power she felt, this certainty that he wouldn’t say ‘no’ to what she was offering.
Their eyes met once more and desire exploded between them.
The battle he was waging shifted. “If you wish, Sharafaha.”
Chapter 5
HIS BODY WAS SO broad and powerful. She could easily believe he was the kind of man who’d been conjured from the ancient myths of this historic land. Myths that spoke of beasts being cast to human form, that spoke of men being forged from the depths of the ocean or the bowels of the desert, men who could withstand sandstorm and earthquakes and duel with the gods.
Even though this was her suggestion, she was nervous now, uncertain. She reached for a sponge and layered spiced body wash on it, buying for time. His look showed he understood that, that he was aware of her hesitation.
He stretched his arms out wide, and unconsciously she bit down on her lower lip, scanning his ridged abdomen and arms that were thick and sculpted. On the underside of his left bicep, he had a scrawling tattoo. She held the sponge in her hand and traced it with her fingertip, reading the words now.
?????? ??? ????????
She frowned, translating the words into her native English. “Darkness births light?”
His chest stilled as his breath caught in his lungs. “You speak and read Abu Fayan with ease.”
It wasn’t praise, so much as an observation.
Her smile was lopsided, and only the work of an instant. “I’ve lived here a long time.”
“Yes.”
Her eyes lifted to his. “When did you get it done?”
“A while ago.”
She swallowed, emotions balling inside her. “After Addan?”
There was something in his eyes when he turned to face her. “No.” Something stony and cold. Something like rejection.
“When?” She persisted.
His expression tightened, if that was even possible. “Why do you think any one particular event led to my tattoo?”
Another smile flitted across her face. She lifted the loofah and began to rub his shoulders, moving slowly even when it was obviously a torment for him, even when their mutual desire was pulsing between them, demanding indulgence.