“I –,” she swallowed, not sure what she wanted to say. Her attention dropped lower. Masculine, wide lips set in a jaw that was square and covered in dark stubble. Her fingers ached to run over his cheeks, down to his chin, to marvel in the feel of him beneath her touch, just as he’d been doing to her. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
Something sparked in the depths of his eyes. “I don’t think so.” His pause was deliberate. Her tension ratcheted up, every cell in her body screeching at her. But for what? Why?
“Would you like to check?”
She could hardly speak. Her knees were weak, her legs like jelly. Of its own accord, her head bobbed up and down, a slow agreement she hadn’t intended to give.
“It seems only fair.”
His smile was just a flicker of his lips. Deliberately, he put down the disinfectant bottle again, removing his robe and placing it neatly over the back of the sole chair in the room. Despite the desert cool of the evening, her temperature spiked several degrees. Beneath it, he wore only a pair of cotton boxer shorts and a simple white t-shirt, crisp and form-fitting. She held her breath as, with his back turned to her, he lifted the hem to reveal his toned hips, then higher so she could see the indentation between his shoulder blades and the powerful angles and planes at work as he lifted his arms above his head and discarded the shirt as he had the robe. He turned to face her slowly, his eyes mocking when they met hers.
“You see, Ella El Silandar? Not a scratch on me.”
Invited to confirm that for herself, she let her sea green eyes drop to his broad chest, her insides squirming in excited anticipation – but anticipation of what? This wasn’t the first time she’d seen a man’s chest – she’d been to parties on yachts where men wore little more than flimsy briefs – and yet she couldn’t quell the kaleidoscope of butterflies shooting through her system. His chest wasn’t like what she was used to. She felt as though she’d only ever been around boys before and here she was on the brink of her first encounter with an actual man. For a start, he was bigger than she’d imagined, bigger even than the robe had led her to believe. While she could tell he was broad and well-built, it had hidden the definition of his chest, the sculpted abs, the colour of his skin, the strength in his shoulders. He strode casually across to her, stopping only when they were almost touching.
“I’m fine,” he said with a smile, mimicking her phrase of earlier.
Her eyes scattered to his, her breath stuck in her throat, lips parted softly on a sigh that wouldn’t come.
“I wouldn’t say you don’t have a scratch on you though,” she observed, lifting a finger tentatively, a question in her eyes.
He stared down at her as though a battle was being raged within him, and for a second she felt doubts flooding the powerful Sheikh, before he nodded his permission. She hadn’t realised she’d been waiting for it, and yet it hadn’t felt right to simply run her fingers over his flesh, despite the fact he’d spent the past twenty minutes in a detailed examination of her near-naked body.
“You have a mark here.” Tension throbbed in the small words.
“Not a new one.” His, by comparison, sounded calm. Deep and husky, but unaffected by her nearness. Then it was only Ella who was riding a wave of sensual awareness she hadn’t expected? Good. Far better that way. She could look and touch but know nothing would come of this foolish attraction that had caught her completely by surprise.
“When did you get it?” She ran a finger over the scar that ran from his right shoulder down towards his hair-roughened nipple. It was long and straight, the tone silvery where the skin was raised.
“Many years ago. I was just a boy.”
She nodded, risking a glance at him then wishing she hadn’t when a blade of heat burst between them. She swallowed and quickly looked back down at the scar. “How?”
This time, his lips flickered into a small smile. She registered it on the periphery of her vision; her heart skipped a beat.
“There was a fire.”
Her eyes flew to his. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“No?”
She shook her head.
“How did you think I’d got it?”
She bit down on her lower lip. “I don’t know.”
Her finger continued to trace the line. His skin was so warm beneath her touch and when she reached the tail end of the scar, she could feel the reverberations of his heart’s beating. It was regular and constant, somehow the strength of it reassured her.
“There was an electrical fault at the palace. We were evacuated, but Luna’s room was one of the first to catch alight. Security guards couldn’t reach her, only I knew of a secret passageway to her room – an old tunnel used by servants hundreds of years ago. As children, we would creep around the palace in these cavernous hallways. Luna, particularly, had a penchant for sneaking away from our nannies whenever she was bored.” His smile was indulgent then and Ella felt a wave of fresh pain. How much she’d missed out on by being excluded from her brother’s life for so long!
She was careful not to show the reaction.
“By the time I reached her, she was unconscious from smoke inhalation. The beam to the door collapsed as I was carrying her from the room, knocking me here.” He lifted his hand, touching the scar himself, so Ella’s fingers brushed his. Electricity buzzed through her. This time, when she looked up into his eyes, she was powerless to look away. Her hips swayed so her body shifted forward. He caught her hand, lifting it from his skin and dropping it to their sides. But he didn’t release it.
“You must have been terrified.”
“No. I acted on instinct. Luna was only seven – she’s younger than I am. I couldn’t let her die.”