Desert Sheikhs Collection: Part 2. Susan Mallery

to her ear, his body almost totally enclosing her. “You have not calmed down?”

      “I’m not angry.” Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. The anger had long since burned out, leaving behind a residue of hurt so deep she felt ravaged.

      He kissed the lobe of her ear. A shiver raced through her. She couldn’t disguise the instinctive reaction, but neither did she do anything else.

      “Ah, Mina, you cannot lie. Come, look at me. Welcome your husband home.”

      His words were an unwanted echo of his commands before he’d left. “Do you wish to have sex? If you’ll move, I’ll get on the bed.” Dark and violent emotions rose in her throat, daring her to release them. She stifled the urge, refusing to let Tariq see just how badly he’d hurt her when he’d brought her deepest fear to the surface and given it form.

      His body turned to stone around her. She could feel his muscles tensing as if to strike. He drew back so fast that she nearly fell off the stool, unbalanced. She’d barely got herself grounded when he lifted her and stood her in front of him. In bare feet, she only came halfway up his chest. Startled, she almost met his eyes but managed to fix her gaze on his shoulders.

      “Mina, do not do this. You know you will turn into liquid fire in my arms.” He curved one hand over her hip and used the other to cup her cheek, but didn’t force her to look up.

      “Yes, I know you can make me pant at any time.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she repeated his taunt. A taunt so true it made her cry inside. If he touched her much longer with those sensitive fingers, she’d shatter like fine crystal. Something wild and needy in her recognized his touch and wouldn’t let her pull away. “I’m not going to fight you.”

      He growled at her response and pulled her into a bruising embrace, holding her head against his chest. Jasmine had to fight every instinct she possessed not to respond. Her hunger for him was a clawing being inside her. She reminded herself that she was prized but not irreplaceable. Not irreplaceable. He felt only momentary lust when he touched her. When she remained stiff, arms at her sides, he released her.

      “Go to bed, Jasmine.” He sounded tired and defeated. Leaving her standing in the center of the bedroom, he pushed through the connecting door and into his room.

      The door shut with a quiet click.

      Out of nowhere, exhaustion slammed into Jasmine. Dreading this confrontation, she’d barely slept the past five nights. Still wearing the silk robe, she crawled under the blankets. However, a sense of loss kept nudging her awake. She knew it was a lie. She’d never had anything to lose. Still, she wanted to go to her husband and hold him…soothe him.

      “No.” No, she wouldn’t give in to the need, when he clearly saw nothing wrong with his treatment of her. Respect, she repeated to herself. She was worthy of respect.

      Tariq threw his balled-up shirt across the room. She’d denied him! He’d never expected that from Jasmine. He had relied on her generous nature to forgive him. Time and distance, and Jasmine’s passionate anger, had made him regret his cruel words. That day in her solar, he’d allowed the wounded beast inside him to speak, full of years of pent-up anger and pain. It would have been better to keep that uncontrollable part of himself locked up.

      He’d been feeling instead of thinking, and the words that had slipped out had been weapons aimed at his wife. More than that, they’d been untrue. He had four years of midnight awakenings to attest to the fact that she was irreplaceable.

      What if the damage was irreversible? What if Mina did hate him? Her body had been so stiff in his embrace, her lips so silent. She’d been like a small creature frozen in front of a predator. The painful image forced him to accept that what he’d felt from Jasmine hadn’t been anger or a need for revenge, but…hurt. His temper vanished in the face of that truth. He had hurt his wife, his Mina. There was no satisfaction in that knowledge, only disgust at himself. She was his to protect. Even from himself.

      For the first time in an eternity, Tariq was uncertain about his next act. A sheik could rarely indulge in indecision, but it appeared that a husband had plenty of opportunity to do so. He knew he’d acted badly, but he wasn’t a man accustomed to asking for forgiveness. With a sound akin to a growl, he stalked into the shower, his mind on the small woman with big blue eyes next door.

      Familiar hands, rough but gentle, stroked the naked line of her spine. Jasmine frowned, sure that she’d been clothed before sleep, but in this dream, skin touched skin. A kiss on her nape, on each vertebra, possessive hands grasping her hips…She moaned and turned onto her back, welcoming her lover. When he pressed his lips to her breasts, she arched into him. Waking thoughts merged with hazy dreams as her fingers tangled in thick silky hair. A beard-roughened jaw angled across her breast. She shivered and the spot was immediately kissed.

      “Tariq,” she whispered, awake and aware. It was too late to stop her response. Her whole body was open in invitation. Jasmine sighed and gave in to the inevitable. Whatever he said, whatever he did, he was hers. How could she possibly deny him when he touched her as if she was precious?

      When he kissed her, she returned his kiss joyously, unable to hide how much she’d missed him. He shuddered against her and broke away to drop kisses across her breasts. Under her fingers, his shoulder muscles bunched as he moved down her body, dropping a line of kisses across her stomach and flicking his tongue over the indentation of her navel.

      Shivers racked her body as he found an unexpectedly sensitive spot. Her reaction made him repeat the quick caress. Her stomach muscles clenched and her hips jerked upward without conscious control. Pressed so close, she could feel his heartbeat in the pulse of his body.

      She parted her thighs for him without prompting, but he didn’t rise to possess her. He lifted her left leg and placed it over his shoulder. Her sensitive skin burned from the heat of his body. Then he rubbed his rough jaw across the tender skin on the insides of her thighs.

      She gasped. “Tariq, please.”

      He soothed the roughness with his tongue, sending her nerves into further disarray. Then he repeated the whole process with her right leg. Just when she thought that she could feel no more pleasure, he dipped his head and bestowed the most intimate kiss of all upon her.

      She screamed and would’ve squirmed away, but his hold on her hips kept her in place as he slowly, and with great care, introduced her to this shatteringly intimate form of loving. His only aim was her pleasure.

      With the tiny slice of her brain that was functioning, she knew this was Tariq’s apology. Her warrior was adoring her body, cherishing her response. He couldn’t say the words, but he was showing her that she was more than an object to satisfy his lust. How much more, she didn’t know, but even the depth of her hurt couldn’t survive against this kind of tenderness.

      She clutched handfuls of the sheets and gave herself up to his caresses. Once more, she gave her heart and soul to Tariq, her vows to keep him at bay disintegrating into dust. She felt the change in him immediately. His intense, concentrated caressing continued, but his shoulders were no longer so tense under her thighs, and his hands were anchors rather than vices forcing her to stay in place. And then she couldn’t think. She found the kind of freedom that she could only find in his arms and splintered on the wings of pleasure. He held her until the tremors subsided and then gently entered her, as if unsure of his welcome.

      Tears pricked her eyes at his hesitation. He wasn’t acting the autocratic despot now. The silent question delivered the final blow to any lingering hurt. She deliberately clenched her inner muscles and held him prisoner, telling him without words that he was wanted, needed, loved. At the same time, she curled her arms around him and dropped kisses across his shoulders. With a groan, he began to move.

      “Welcome home,” she whispered, just before she crested the highest pinnacle of desire for a second time that night.

      A long while later, she gathered enough confidence to ask, “Why did you return early?”

      Tariq spooned her deeper against him