For the first time since she’d left her apartment for her interview, weeks ago, she was completely alone. The relief that came with that was more profound than she would have believed possible before meeting the King.
She closed her eyes and leaned back, thinking there was a real chance she might fall asleep in the tub. Slowly inhaling the lavender and eucalyptus combination of the bath salts, she bent her mind to the task of relaxing, beginning at the crown of her head and working her way down, part by part. By the time she reached her toes her mind floated in a Zen haze, lulled into stillness by aromatherapy and hot water.
In that state, Zayn’s image formed in her mind.
A smile curved her lips.
In her imagination he rose from a steaming spring, the same broad chest she’d barely been able to tear her eyes from all day glistening with beads of heated water that begged to be traced with her tongue. As usual, his violet gaze burned, but this time the fire was fueled by desire—and all of it for her.
She shivered in the tub, despite the heat of the water. There was an undeniable thrill that came with the image. To have the King burn for her...
The bathroom door hinges creaked and Mina shot up, her eyes popping open, arms crossing in front of her breasts.
Zayn stood in the doorway, his movement halted mid-entry.
Their eyes met—hers wide and bright, and her cheeks flushed from more than the heat of the water, his piercing and focused, entirely zeroed in on her.
He cleared his throat. “I apologize. I was looking for my clothes. They are not in my old room.”
Swallowing, Mina nodded, not trusting her ability to find words.
Entering the bathroom, he made his way toward the closet in the corner with gentlemanly decorum, not glancing toward the tub as he passed, and though she didn’t know what else she could have wanted, Mina was disappointed.
He turned to leave with equal restraint, a folded black T-shirt and black cotton pants in his hands.
Mina watched his back as he walked toward the door, a heavy sense of urgency growing in her chest. His hand was on the door handle when she called his name.
“Zayn.”
He turned, meeting her eyes without a word.
Mina lowered her arms and the air left the room.
Time was transformed, racing as Zayn’s eyes locked with hers to rip an irrefutable confirmation of her invitation from her at light-speed even while it slowed, going still as they sensed the invisible precipice they stood on.
And then he was moving toward her, a predator gone beyond stalking his prey, ready to pounce.
Her throat caught. She was suddenly nervous, but not enough. Not nearly enough. Not when they were alone in the cabin. Not when they were man and wife, their union not just sanctioned but sanctified. Certainly not when his eyes burned with an intensity that put her imagination to shame.
Her life’s dream had been revealed to be a sham. Her academic reputation was in tatters. There was no more research to complete, no more grants to apply for. No more benchmarks to reach. She could make up no more excuses or distractions from taking a chance on real life—not when her husband was looking at her like that.
She stood, wearing only the water that ran down her skin.
The King stilled, not frozen but hyper-aware, his attention locked.
And then he was on her, closing the distance between them and cupping the back of her skull in his hands as he lifted her face towards his to take her mouth.
Her breasts pressed against the bare skin of his chest, her pebbled nipples exploding into sensation on contact. He snaked his arm around her waist, bracing her as he pulled her closer, pressing the hard length of his body against hers.
Held fast in his arms, she gave herself fully into the kiss, her senses wide open, etching each feeling into her memory. A hungry, desperate voice in the back of her mind was urging her on, warning her that this might be her only opportunity to feel this way.
Blood rushed through her, each vessel a river of heat coalescing at her core.
His hand found her breast, and the faintly roughened skin of his fingertips and palms against her skin was the most sensuous contrast she’d ever experienced. She arched into his grip, her breath catching in her throat.
The movement elicited a painful groan from him before he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Rolling it gently, he experimented with pressure, watching her face intently as he set off mini waves of electric pleasure through her system.
She gasped when he replaced his fingers with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive hard bud. A moan of protest escaped her as he transitioned to the other breast, and she was bereft until he once again took her in his mouth.