She read his last words on her lips as his mouth descended over hers, warm and gentling, and the contrast in the man struck her. He appeared so strong and hard, upright and defiant, he looked every part the ruler of his kingdom, and yet his kiss was so tender, so sweet, it seemed to squeeze something from her even as it rocked her to her soul. The power was there, lurking just below the surface, but there was so much more besides, so many nuances, so many textures to experience—the softness of his lips, the nip of his teeth, the rasp of his shadowed chin…
She felt her internal thermostat reset itself to slow burn as his mouth gently plundered her own, exploring, manipulating.
She felt his hands at her shoulders, behind her neck, down her back, their gathering touch strangely compelling. They invited her closer and she complied, leaning into the kiss and feeling the press of his firm chest against her own tight breasts.
Then he was gone from her and she blinked, swaying and throwing out a hand to the neighbouring table to steady herself, embarrassed and ashamed as she realised just how easily she’d let herself be manipulated into that kiss. Hardly the mark of a professional on her first day on the job.
‘That was a mistake,’ she whispered, her voice unusually thick, her hand covering lips still excruciatingly sensitised.
‘We had to stop,’ he said, one side of his mouth kicked up in a lazy grin. ‘Saleem is waiting for me.’
‘No!’ She spun around, hugging her arms to herself. ‘It was a mistake to kiss me. You’re getting married. I have a b…I have a boyfriend. It’s wrong.’
‘You appeared to have no trouble forgetting your so-called “boyfriend” just then. Or do you just make a habit of forgetting him whenever it suits you?’
‘Of course not!’ she insisted. She had never been unfaithful to Paolo, never even thought about another man until now, when their relationship seemed stalled and their differences all the while harder to broach.
Though that wasn’t the entire truth. She’d never considered any other man until Khaled had stormed onto the scene and into her life, all rampant testosterone and masculine force. ‘Although you make a veritable art form of regularly forgetting you will soon have a wife.’
He came up quickly behind her and by the time she’d turned in surprise he had one arm planted firmly either side of her, trapping her against the long workbench. ‘I don’t forget,’ he said, leaning into her, his voice tight and betraying a rising sense of fury. ‘If you must know, I’m very much looking forward to it.’
He dropped his arms and wheeled away, leaving her breathless and dizzy, her mind scrambling to make sense of his words.
‘I must meet with Saleem. Afterwards we will dine together—Azizah will show you the way. Meanwhile there is one more room,’ he said, thrusting out an arm to indicate a door opposite. ‘Do you wish me to show it to you?’
‘What’s in there?’
‘Your bedroom.’
She swallowed, feeling solid colour infuse her cheeks. ‘No, thank you. I’ll manage.’
She could still recall the amused look on his face at her prim response, long after he was gone.
Dinner was a subdued affair. Saleem ignored her for the most part, directing most of his conversation at Khaled, which suited her just fine. Not that she was interested in chatting too much to Khaled either. While there were questions she wanted to ask, about his family and the history of Jebbai, she was still too shaken by the episode in the workroom. The last thing she needed to do was show him any encouragement.
It was easier to look more interested in the food. The array of spiced meats, salads and dips was laid out invitingly on the low table between them as they reclined on colourful silk cushions. She tried to focus on the spread, to sample the different tastes, all the while biding her time until she thought it was safe to excuse herself and withdraw to bed.
But her thoughts were elsewhere. She’d flung her relationship with Paolo in Khaled’s face, a convenient defence in fending off his unwelcome advances, but she’d stumbled over the word ‘boyfriend’ as if it had been an effort. Why didn’t that bother her more when it hinted that the problems they’d dredged up during their argument were more deep-seated than she’d thought? Why was it so hard to even think of Paolo as her boyfriend now?
They would talk some time after her return, he’d promised. She should hold that thought. Instead, on some deeper, instinctive level, she suspected their relationship was already beyond salvage.
Her thoughts in turmoil with the stresses of the last few days, she allowed herself one tiny cup of thick, sweet coffee before she sensed her opportunity to excuse herself. She stood, hoping to make a smooth getaway.