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A single tug of the zip and the torn garment slithered off her, leaving her in nothing but a sheer bra and pants. She shivered slightly and Zayed realised she was nervous. The last time they’d been together, it had been rushed and urgent, and the time before that it had been a consummation, a matter of expediency. Tonight felt different for both of them.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said softly as he smoothed his hand from her shoulder to her hip. ‘Utterly beautiful.’
Relief flashed across her face and then, with an impish smile, she reached for the studs on his shirt. Her fingers trembled slightly as she undid the first one but then, emboldened by the throaty growl he couldn’t help but give, she undid the others, the studs clattering to the ground, then pushed his shirt aside before resting her palms flat on his chest.
‘You’re beautiful too,’ she said softly, and the blood roared through Zayed’s veins. This woman enflamed him. He pulled her to him, wanting to be slow and deliberate but craving her too much, even now. Especially now.
They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, hands and mouth reaching for whatever bit of skin they could access. He skimmed his hand along her inner thigh and she bucked, her response overwhelming.
Zayed reached for a condom from his bedside table. This time he would be careful. Within moments he’d buried himself inside her and, as Olivia met him thrust for thrust, he forgot about everything...everything but her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘HERE YOU ARE.’
Olivia took the slim rectangular box and tried not to gulp as she stared down at the lettering on its front. Zayed met her uncertain gaze evenly, his face completely bland, grey-green eyes shuttered. She’d spent all last night lost in his arms, seeking and finding pleasure after pleasure and joy after joy, but right now she had no idea what he was thinking or feeling, and she lacked the courage to ask him. A depressing thought, considering how wonderfully intimate last night had been—far more than the last two occasions they had come together.
Even now, with Zayed standing so fathomlessly in front of her, Olivia remembered how tenderly he’d held her, the Arabic endearments he’d murmured in her ear, the way he’d touched her, so reverently, as if she were a cherished treasure...and that was how she’d felt. She’d slept in his arms all night and woken in the morning with the biggest smile on her face and in her heart.
This moment was another proposition entirely.
‘Should I...?’ She glanced down at the rather lurid pink and blue writing on the side of the box. ‘Should I take it now?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Zayed’s voice was as bland as his face, yet in both she detected an intensity that alarmed her. Was he dreading the possibility of her being pregnant that much? If she was pregnant, would he feel trapped, tied to her in a way he might hate?
‘Right.’ Her numb fingers closed around the box. ‘Well, then...’
He nodded towards the en-suite bathroom. ‘I’ll wait here.’
Wordlessly Olivia nodded, then she turned and made for the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a final-sounding click. She laid the box on the edge of the sink, willing her heart rate to slow and her nerves to steady. She was so nervous, and she had a terrible feeling it was because she was scared she wasn’t pregnant. That she’d be sent away. Or was she worried that she was pregnant and would be made to stay? The trouble was, Olivia didn’t know which she felt. Everything was a churning, mixed-up jumble inside her, and Zayed’s inscrutable face and tone weren’t helping.
Still, there was no point analysing her emotions until she knew the truth of the matter. Taking a deep breath, Olivia opened the box.
Three minutes later she turned over the test she’d taken to read the results, her nerves and hand both surprisingly steady. Three minutes had been an agony to wait, but now that the time had come she felt calmer because she knew she wanted to know, needed to know, for her own sake, her own sanity. She couldn’t take any more limbo. Even so, the single line, stark and vivid, felt like a smack in the face, a fist to the gut.
One line. Not pregnant.
Olivia sank down onto the edge of the sunken tub, her heart plummeting like a stone. Disappointment. That was what she felt now—like a tidal wave crashing over her and pulling her under. Total, sick disappointment. Tears stung her eyes and, impatient with herself, she blinked them away. This was a good thing. It had to be.
If she’d been pregnant, Zayed would have felt honour-bound to keep her as his wife, and theirs would have been a marriage of expediency and growing resentment, hardly the kind of environment in which to raise a child, never mind find her own happiness.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Yes, this was better. Even if her heart now felt like a leaden weight inside her, dragging her down.
‘Olivia?’ Zayed rapped on the door. ‘Surely you must have taken the test by now?’
‘Yes.’ She couldn’t let the disappointment show on her face, Olivia realised with a jolt of panic. That would be far too humiliating, to have Zayed realise she’d wanted his baby. She’d wanted to stay. ‘Yes, I’ve taken it.’
‘Well?’ Zayed sounded impatient, and Olivia couldn’t tell if there was any other emotion underneath that, hope or fear or something else.
‘I’m coming out.’ She glanced at the test one last time, the single, stark line, and then threw it into the bin. As she washed her hands she gave herself a silent and stern talking-to in the mirror.
This is for the best. It really is. You know that, Olivia, in your head, if not in your heart. You wouldn’t want Zayed to feel trapped. You wouldn’t want to feel trapped.
‘Olivia,’ Zayed prompted, a definite edge to his voice. She opened the door. His narrowed gaze scanned her from head to foot, assessing. ‘Well?’
‘I’m not pregnant,’ Olivia said quietly. Thankfully her voice was steady, as wer
e her hands, which she folded in front of her.
