Instantly he regretted his harsh response. He felt ashamed. It wasn’t concern for Karim that had made him snap, but his visceral sexual response to her. He wanted things he shouldn’t.
‘I’m sorry.’ It was the second time he’d apologised. ‘That was uncalled-for. You’re right, there’s some pain, but it’s not as bad as it looks.’ What were bruises and cuts in comparison to what tomorrow held for him? ‘But there’s something youcoulddo.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Rest. We need to conserve our strength.’ He stretched out, stifling a groan as abused muscles throbbed.
After a long silence she finally followed his example, lying down nearby.
Ashraf didn’t sleep. Instead he focused on tomorrow, wondering if his security detail would find him before it was too late. Wondering if Basim was alive.
Finally a tiny sound caught his attention. Were Tori’s teeth chattering? The desert night had turned chill.
‘Come here, Tori. We’ll be warmer together.’
She lifted her head. ‘But your injuries...’
He reached out his untethered arm. ‘Snuggle against this side.’
When she did Ashraf bit his tongue against a sigh of satisfaction.
‘Put your head on my shoulder.’ She complied and he felt the gentle whisper of her breath through his torn shirt. Soft curves cushioned his side, silky strands of hair tickled his neck and her hand rested warm at his waist.
Ashraf lifted his hand to stroke her hair. It was silken. Like the softest cushions in the royal harem, spun in the days when the Sheikhs of Za’daq had had a bevy of concubines devoted to their pleasure.
Pressed against him from shoulder to knee, she felt...
His breath clogged in his lungs and a tremor started low in his body, vibrating out.
‘Am I too heavy?’
She shifted as if to move away and Ashraf rolled a little towards her, capturing her knee between his.
‘Just relax. You’re not hurting me.’
It wasn’t strictly true. He was definitely in pain. But the ache of his wounds and the indignity of the chain were eclipsed by another sort of pain. The taut stretch of a body fighting luscious temptation.
Ashraf’s mouth stretched in a mirthless smile. He’d spent years giving in to temptation. He wished he had more experience at resisting it. Perhaps that was why the tension he felt was so acute, the tug of war between honour and desire so fierce.
But honour won.
Finally he felt her breathing slow. She shifted, shimmying her hips as if to get more comfortable, and the friction was exquisite torture. But it was a torture he willingly bore.
Till she moved her arm and her hand accidentally brushed the evidence of his arousal straining against his trousers.
She froze.
Everything inside him stilled.
Ashraf swore they both stopped breathing.
Then his blood pumped again—harder, more urgent. His groin tightened. He had to force himself not to tilt his pelvis, seeking the feel of her palm against him.
‘It’s okay. You’re safe with me, Tori.’ Could she tell he spoke through gritted teeth? ‘Nothing’s going to happen.’
Silence. He waited for her to scurry away.
Then he knew he was hearing things when she said, ‘Maybe I don’t want to be safe with you.’