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He silenced her words with a kiss, drawing her into a secluded alcove. People passed them by, but they were oblivious to everything but the heat between them. They finally came up for air and Jamilah groaned softly, resting her forehead on Salman’s chest. Would she ever be free of this insanity?
When he took her hand again and led her out she was silent. Back in the car, she noticed that they weren’t heading towards their hotel, and finally they pulled up at a small, slightly battered-looking restaurant boat that was moored near the Île de la Cité on the Seine. Lightbulbs were strung around the perimeter, bathing it in a golden glow. Her heart lurched. This had always been one of her favourite parts of Paris.
Salman led her down rickety steps and said, ‘I thought you might be hungry…’
Jamilah’s stomach growled, and she smiled. ‘You seem to be more in tune with my eating habits than I am.’
He smiled, too, and for a second looked years younger—as if some of his dark intensity was lifting. She had to stem the rising tide of tenderness. Just then a rotund man came to the door and exclaimed over Salman effusively. Clearly he was a well-liked visitor. They were soon seated in a quiet corner, overlooking the slightly choppy river. The glowing lights of hundreds of apartments shone down on them, and on the water. Jamilah could see a couple on the path by the Seine stop and share a passionate kiss—it might have been her and Salman, six years ago. She sighed.
Salman took her hand and said lightly, ‘You don’t like this place?’
She shook her head and said quietly, avoiding his eye, ‘It’s perfect. I love it.’ And I love you. Still. She curbed her words.
The waiter came then, to take their order, and Jamilah forced herself to relax. Salman ordered champagne and oysters, and they spoke of inconsequential things in an easy conversation that didn’t stray anywhere near difficult topics. Jamilah could almost imagine for a second that she’d dreamt up Salman’s horrific revelations…but then she only had to think of the charity and the work he was doing and remember.
By the time they had gorged on the succulent morsels, and after Salman had kissed and licked away the droplets that clung to her mouth, she was trembling with desire. When he stood up and took her hand to leave she didn’t hesitate.
There was an ethereal quality to the silence between them as they travelled back to the hotel in the car, hand in hand. It lasted all the way up to their suite, and made Jamilah feel as if they were the only two people in the world.
Once they were in Salman’s room, he took off his clothes with efficient gracefulness. Only once he was naked did he peel her dress down to expose her breasts and say throatily, ‘I’ve been waiting to do this all night.’
With his hands on her waist he drew her into him, bent his head, and his hot mouth and tongue paid sensual homage to her breasts until she was gasping for air and her hips were squirming for more intimate contact.
When he had her naked on the bed, underneath him, he took her hands and lifted them over her head, capturing them there with one of his. He said, as he ran one hand down the side of her body, before his fingers sought the hot wet ache between her legs, ‘I’m going to take this slowly…until you’re begging for mercy…’
Jamilah whimpered as his fingers explored her moist heat and her hips bucked. She already felt like begging for mercy, but could only succumb to Salman’s masterful seduction as he did exactly as he’d promised…
Jamilah had fallen into a sated drowsy slumber, but woke in an instant when she felt Salman brush her hair over one shoulder. He whispered in her ear. ‘If you think this finishes here then you’re very much mistaken, Jamilah Moreau.’
She said nothing—just felt a lump come into her throat. Salman settled himself around her, and eventually his breaths evened out. She knew he was right. She could no more resist him now than she could stop breathing and survive.
The only way she could make him reject her for sure would be to tell him how she felt. But the awful excoriating memory of that day six years before and the cruel rejection she’d suffered made her loath to reveal herself ever again. Even though she knew now that he hadn’t wanted to hurt her.
Jamilah bit her lip. She had to batten down the fragile and fledgling flame of hope that rose up like a persistent desert flower in the face of certain demise once the rains had gone. She had to learn from the past. She would be the biggest fool on earth if she walked willingly back into Salman’s arms once they returned to Merkazad. He’d only be there for another couple of weeks, and if she could just survive that long…
Next day, Salman cast a suspicious glance across the aisle of the private plane to Jamilah. Her chair was reclined and she was asleep—or she was pretending to be. Her face was turned away, and even that hint of obliviousness to his presence angered him. The minute they’d taken off she’d turned down the offer of lunch and yawned loudly. In all fairness he couldn’t blame her. They hadn’t got much sleep last night.
He tried to make sense of the tangled knot in his head. He couldn’t feel regret for having seduced Jamilah again—because it had felt too right. And now, as they flew back to the home he’d rejected a long time ago Merkazad was the last thing on his mind. To his surprise, he’d found himself enjoying the past few days, standing in for Nadim. They’d even managed to have a near-friendly conversation the previous evening, when Salman had filled him in on developments. And that was something that hadn’t happened in a long time.
The woman sleeping so peacefully just a few feet away, or not, was the catalyst for these changes. Salman knew it, and it sent warning bells to every part of his body and brain. And yet he didn’t regret telling her. If anything he felt guilty for burdening her with the images that had tortured his days and nights for years… He frowned; the images were already beginning to dissipate like wisps of cloud.
His mouth firmed and he turned away from the provocative sight of her tempting body. Resting his head back on the headrest, he closed his eyes. Things were different now from six years ago. Jamilah had matured and lived, had experienced things. He grimaced. She knew everything about him. But, despite that, he would be walking away and leaving her behind in Merkazad some day soon—and this time it really would be over. There simply was no other option.
‘Stop the Jeep, Salman.’
When he didn’t automatically obey, Jamilah was about to speak again, but then he did pull in. They were in the main courtyard of the Al-Saqr Castle. To the left the road led up to the castle, and to the right to the stables complex and training grounds.
Salman looked at Jamilah as she got out. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’
As nonchalantly as she could, while her heart was beating a rapid tattoo and every beat screamed to her, coward, coward, Jamilah said, ‘Back to the stables, Salman. I’m going to be busy for the next few days, catching up.’
Salman jumped out of the Jeep so fast Jamilah’s head swam. She instinctively moved away, but Salman cornered her at the back of the Jeep and caged her in with his hands by her head.
Dark eyes blistered down into hers, and she was instantly breathless. He ground his hips against hers and she could feel his arousal through his jeans, pressing her. ‘So this is how it’s to be? You run and hide at the stables?’
Jamilah tried to push him back, but he was immovable. She gritted out, trying to resist his magnetic pull, ‘There’s nothing stopping you coming with me—I have work to do, remember?’
Immediately he tensed, and Jamilah automatically wanted to say sorry when she saw the abject terror in the depths of his dark eyes. He pulled back and said coolly, ‘Have it your way, then…we’ll see how long you can last.’
