The rest of the time he’d devoted to her.
Sex with Salim had been an eye-opener. Not only did it cast Rosanna’s experience with Phil into the shadows, but Salim had made her aware of her sensuality in a way she never had been before.
The morning they’d arrived here was the first time she’d had sex outside a bed. With Phil they’d always been horizontal, in the dark, usually after a long day at work.
But tiredness alone didn’t explain the difference. Salim worked long hours too, and he was definitely not getting enough sleep. Yet he was sexually vigorous and demanding, passionate and adventurous. She revelled in it. Not once had he pushed her to do something she didn’t want. In fact, she’d revelled in the freedom to follow her needs fully, making her own demands.
Rosanna shivered, thinking of all the ways they’d enjoyed each other these last few days.
Behind her Salim stirred but didn’t wake. Yet even that tiny movement made her hyper-aware of him, his chest against her back, one hairy thigh between her knees and his hand lax on the nest of curls at the apex of her thighs. As if, even in sleep, he claimed her.
She adored the way he never tired of touching her. Often with bold, sexual intent, but not always. How often had he swept her hair from her face then tangled his fingers there, as if fascinated by its softness? Or reached out to brush her cheek or hand in a passing caress?
He took her hand often, especially when they left the palace to explore the surprisingly fertile if rugged landscape.
This morning he’d led her up a narrow mountain path to watch the sun rise. They hadn’t gone far but it had felt like another world with the spectacular plain spread before them, gilded by the light.
He’d taken her to a ravine where cyclamens and lilies grew wild and a carpet of other flowers she didn’t know. She’d been lost in wonder at the sight of such natural beauty.
Then, still holding her hand, he’d led her to a natural spring, its water bubbling from a cleft in the rock to tumble into a deep pool high above the valley.
Inevitably Salim had persuaded her to join him naked, in the cold water, and they’d made love there, looking out over his land as the sun lifted. The place and the moment had felt magical. Rosanna knew the memory of it, and of how it felt to be cherished by Salim, would last the rest of her life.
That’s how she felt. Cherished.
Salim showed her in so many small ways, each day, that she mattered.
Like when he personally brewed tea for her each morning, after learning it was her favourite and that she only drank coffee once she was well into the day. The way he shortened his stride to match hers as they walked together. How he was so solicitous, always offering her choices, like whether she wanted to swim in the palace’s mosaic-lined pool, or to go out exploring in the four-wheel drive. Or have sex. He respected her need for rest and never expected her simply to accept what he wanted to do.
They might be having a short, steamy affair. They might spend most of their time naked and sometimes her legs were so weak from prolonged bliss that Salim had to carry her to the sunken tub and stay, in the warm, scented water, to carry her out again. But never had Rosanna felt cheapened or taken for granted.
Salim wasn’t that sort of man. She wouldn’t be here if he were. That was one good thing to come out of past trauma. She wasn’t a woman who’d let herself be taken for granted ever again. They were equals here, no matter what differences society placed on them.
It was heady and wonderful. Salim made her feel strong and special, as if their lovemaking forged a new power in her. A new confidence that she’d lost somewhere in the last couple of years.
Sexually, he might hold her in thrall but that didn’t make her weak. Because she’d seen evidence, time and again, that she had the same effect on him. She mightn’t have his experience but Salim needed her as desperately as she needed him. That showed no sign of abating.
Rosanna frowned. This was their fourth day together yet if anything she felt bound more closely to Salim than before. There was no fracture in the ties between them, certainly no boredom or lack of interest.
‘Are you all right, my rose?’
Salim’s voice was husky with sleep and, she guessed, arousal, since she felt his erection stiffen behind her.
Instantly that frisson of not-quite-anxiety disintegrated, replaced by a familiar coil of anticipation deep inside.
She revelled in that pet name he used so often. As if he saw her as delicate and precious, something she’d never imagined herself to be. It fitted the romantic ambience of this wonderful place, so special with its rich silks and decadent luxuries, its bountiful walled garden and exquisite frescoes. It made her feel as if she belonged here, though she knew that could never be.
‘Of course I am. I was just thinking of getting up and leaving you to rest.’
‘Alone?’ No mistaking his disappointment. Or his intent as he dipped his hand into the downy curls between her legs and found her already damp with wanting. ‘Ah, Rosanna.’ His voice burred across her skin like the rub of roughened velvet. ‘You do like to tease me, don’t you?’
Salim shifted, his proud erection solid against her buttocks, and Rosanna found herself arching back, pressing against all that exciting hardness while his fingers delved deeper and her breath caught.
‘You need your sleep,’ she gasped, even as her eyes rolled back in sheer bliss. She loved being wanted by this man. She loved that he insisted on pleasing her, every time, often several times, before his own release.
‘I was dreaming of you. And no wonder.’ His questing fingers made her gasp as delight shimmered through her. ‘You can’t ask me to go back to sleep now.’
Yet he moved away, all that lovely warmth gone in a second, and Rosanna opened her mouth to protest. Except gentle hands pulled her onto her back and he was above her, the excitement in his eyes contrasting with his almost sombre expression. As if suddenly this wasn’t a matter of teasing but something much more serious.