Tamir rolled over, surprised at first to find a warm body beside him.
Olivia.
Guilt washed over him, as he blinked and fixed her still-sleeping face with a gaze of curious fascination.
Her blonde hair had been one of the first things he’d noticed about her. The night at the theatre, it had been a long mane of honey and sunshine. Now, it was a riot of corkscrew curls around her face. He reached out, unable to help himself, and lifted one, running his hands over it with a small frown of interest.
Though his touch was gentle, it was sufficient to disturb his bride. “Tamir,” she said on a sigh, her eyes wide as she gazed up at his face. She smiled, slowly, invitingly, and then grimaced. He recognised the minute she remembered where she was, and why, and he regretted instantly the pain he’d brought her.
However, it was done, and he could not simply ‘undo’ it.
“Good morning,” he said quietly.
She swallowed, and flicked her eyes away. “I slept so deeply,” she murmured. It had surprised her. She hadn’t stirred all night.
“Your hair is different,” he pointed out quietly.
“Curly.” She nodded, and lifted her eyes back to his face. She was self-conscious beneath his scrutiny.
“It is lovely.”
“Really?” She asked, pulling a face. “I always hated it.”
“Please wear it like this from now on.”
She pushed up onto her elbow, supporting her head with her palm. “Is that an order?”
He smiled at her, and shook his head. “Did it sound like one?”
“No,” she admitted begrudgingly. She ran her fingers through the curls. “They’re impossible to keep tidy.”
“Then don’t be tidy.” He had decided, somewhere before the sun had risen over Liya and painted the city with its orange glow, that he would give her time to adapt to her new situation. That he would give them both time to accept their new situation.
But her lips were so sweet and soft looking, and her hair so wonderfully distracting, that he couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. Slowly and wonderingly, tasting her in the morning, and reminding her that whatever else lay between them, their bond was undeniable.
Olivia was surprised.
She didn’t feel sexy. First thing in the morning, she felt like she had messy hair and sleep in her eyes and furry teeth. But the moment Tamir’s mouth connected with hers, her body seemed to spark with a current of electrical energy that demanded indulging.
He had married her without her permission, and in his stupid country, that was apparently legal. She should hate him, but she didn’t. Oh, she didn’t. Her eyes shuttered closed, and her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down on top of her. She sighed as his chest pressed to hers
, his weight a pleasing reminder of how his body felt.
“You’re beautiful,” he groaned, running his hands over her skin, lifting the nightgown so that he could connect with her naked warmth. He pushed aside the quilt and came to straddle her, unwilling to remove his lips from hers. His tongue invaded her mouth, warring with hers, promising pleasure that only they could generate.
She ran her fingers down his naked back, delighting in the smoothness of his skin. She shifted her head away, breaking their kiss, only so that she could lift her mouth to his shoulder and taste his flesh. So warm and clean. She sighed, breathing in his intoxicating scent. His erection pressed into her waist, and she wanted nothing more than to be with him.
For though their predicament was something she would have to address at some point, then, in that moment, she wanted to obliterate rational thought with sweet, intense sex.
“I want you,” she whispered into his ear, sneaking her fingers into the waistband of his shorts and touching the curved muscle of his buttocks.
He pulled away, looking at her with a warning glance. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this, you know.”
She bit down on her lower lip, and pushed his shorts lower, until he was able to kick them away.
“Why?” She whispered, tracing one of his nipples with her finger.
He groaned. “Is it not obvious?”