She looked at him in hope and confusion. “It’s not?”
He shook his head, his eyes reproachful. “You’re… different.”
Olivia’s brain was warning her. He was too smooth. This was too much. Too soon. Too flattering. Too intense. Too much. Way, way too much. Every fibre of common sense that ran through her was screaming at her to listen t
o her inner-objections. But her body was beginning to thrum with desire. Her skin craved to be touched by him.
Would she ever know someone like Tamir Al’ani again? One of the sexiest men she’d ever met, who happened to be one of the most powerful men in the world, wanted her. And she wanted him. Why was she fighting it?
“I… can’t go Talidar with you.” Before he could interrupt with another persuasive argument, she lifted a hand. “But I’m here now. And I do want you.” She was almost as shocked as he by her boldness.
He narrowed his eyes. “You’re saying you will spend tonight with me.”
She nodded. Her chest felt oddly heavy. “I guess I am.”
CHAPTER THREE
Tamir’s bedroom at the embassy was an incredible mix of luxury, formality and technology. He laughed, at her expression. “You do not like it?”
She flushed. “Oh. It’s very,” she searched for the right word. “Sterile.”
“Yes.” He looked around himself, seeing through her eyes the hotel-like furniture, the incredibly expensive artwork and the state of the art laptops and televisions that allowed him to keep track of his country. “I have an apartment in London too, but I rarely use it these days.”
“Why not?”
“Since becoming Sultan, this has made more sense. Better security.”
He spoke into a phone, in his own language. It was the first time she had heard him communicate in Talidarian, and it was a sound like music to her ears. He disconnected the call and turned back to her.
What was he waiting for? Olivia’s body was energized, her whole self tingling with anticipation. Waiting had never been her forte. She shrugged out of her jacket and placed it carefully on the edge of the bed. Then, she planted her hands on her hips and eyed him thoughtfully. The placement of her arms made her blouse strain across her chest and Tamir’s gaze was drawn to the generous swell. His body jerked in immediate response.
He forced himself to look away.
“When did you first discover you were drawn to ancient objects?”
No! Her body screamed. She railed against the idea of any kind of delay. Having screwed up her courage to sleep with a man she barely knew, she simply wanted to enjoy it. Not to have time to regret her hasty decision. She lifted her hands to her blouse and began to unbutton it. Tamir could no longer keep his eyes averted. As she removed obstacle after obstacle, until the shirt hung open, Tamir felt satisfaction getting closer.
She placed the shirt on top of the jacket, and stood before him, in a pair of pants and a lace white bra. She was not nervous. She was excited. Thrilled. Turn on beyond bearing. Between her legs, she felt a slick of moist anticipation. There was no turning back now. And she didn’t want to.
“You are beautiful,” he murmured appreciatively.
She bit down on her lip. “Thank you.”
Why was her willingness making him anxious? He had wanted this, so why was he hesitating now? Something about the whole scene was wrong. His instincts were warning him, and he’d never ignored them in the past. And yet, the visage of a half naked Olivia Anderson before him was overwhelming every compulsion he had to slow things down.
He was Sultan Tamir Al’Ani, and he was not a man who second guessed himself.
He crossed the space between them in two long strides, and pulled her to him firmly. Her sharp exhalation was an aphrodisiac. He lowered his mouth to hers, at the same time his hands found the strap of her bra and unhooked it. He tossed it across the room, thinking he would buy her more. Many more. His hands cupped her breasts, feeling the weight and warmth of them in his palms. They were soft and heavy, perfectly rounded. His fingertips brushed over her nipples, dusky pink and raised to an aroused peak. He dropped his mouth to lavish one with kisses, taking the nipple into his mouth and rolling it with his tongue, while his hands moved downwards, to push at her pants and lower the zip. She stepped out of them at the same time, leaving them discarded on the carpeted floor. Her briefs were just a scrap of lace, but he didn’t remove them. Not yet.
He lifted her easily and placed her on the bed gently. Her blonde hair spread around her like sunshine in a window. He traced it with his fingers, an expression of wonderment on his face.
“I imagined you naked the moment I saw you.”
Her eyes drifted closed, and she shook her head from side to side. “Why?”
“Because you move like an angel performing ballet. You smile like a goddess sharing a joke with a mortal. You are magical and beautiful and mythical and perfect.”
“I’m not perfect,” she promised, an embarrassed laugh sounding discordant after such a beautiful speech. She lifted a finger to his lips. “And you don’t need to say that stuff. I don’t need flattery. I don’t need anything from you. Except this.”