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He touched a finger to her cheek, drew a tendril of hair behind her ear. Then sent her a lopsided smile that made her heartbeat slow and thicken.
‘For trying to bully you into marriage, perhaps?’ he murmured, the rueful twist of his lips beguiling. ‘And for scaring you away. If I had not reacted so recklessly, made such a ridiculous demand, we could have found a better way to end our time at the oasis, is this not so?’
She forced a smile to her lips, stifling the ripple of sadness that he now considered marriage a ‘ridiculous demand’. Of course he did, because it was ridiculous, they didn’t know each other. Not really.
Should she tell him now, about the baby? The question had the guilt tightening in her stomach, but she dismissed it. Why destroy this moment of closeness, of connection? She would tell him soon, just not yet.
At least now she knew she didn’t have to be scared to tell him when the time came. He was a much more intelligent and thoughtful man than she had given him credit for, despite the harshness of his upbringing.
‘Perhaps we both need to apologise?’ she offered.
He chuckled, the sound helping to release the knot of guilt still lodged in her belly. ‘An excellent compromise.’
Warmth flooded her system at the approval in his gaze.
She would tell him about the pregnancy soon, but for tonight she just wanted to enjoy his company.
He was the father of her child, and while this liaison was based on a sexual connection and would not last—because they were still such different people, with such different goals in life—he would always have a place in her life now. And her child’s life. It was good to know that didn’t scare her any more, it excited her. She hadn’t given much thought to what kind of father he would make, had been too scared to consider it because of her assumptions about the kind of man he was—rough, uneducated, wild—but now she could see she didn’t need to be scared about that either.
He cradled her face, pulled her close for a kiss, and the pheromones gathered—as they always did—to overwhelm her thoughts. But as his lips touched hers, the electric contact sending a familiar shiver down her spine, a loud knock sounded in the next room.
‘Mr Khan, room service. We have your order.’
He swore against her lips in Kholadi—his frustration palpable—and she let out a strained laugh.
Shifting to kiss her forehead, he drew back. ‘I think we had better let them in,’ he said, not sounding at all pleased at the prospect.
‘Must we?’ she shot back, surprising herself. Was she actually pouting?
He let out a rough chuckle. ‘Unfortunately, yes, my little witch.’
The hot promise in his eyes had the heat rushing straight to her core as he climbed off the bed.
‘You need to build up your stamina for the night ahead,’ he added, wiggling his brows as he teased her.
The flush exploded in her core as she watched him stride across the bedroom in his boxer briefs. Her gaze drifted down the line of his spine and snagged on the bunch of muscle in his taut backside.
She would tell him about the baby soon, but for tonight she wanted to indulge in the pleasure of having him all to herself. And make full use of the chance to get to know him better. A lot better.
She choked off a playful laugh.
In every possible sense of the word!
CHAPTER TWELVE
KASIA AWOKE THE next morning feeling warm and sated and a little overwhelmed by the feel of Raif’s big body wrapped around hers. His arm was draped over her waist, his even breathing stroked her nape. His hard chest pressed against her back, his muscular thighs cradled her own legs and something long and firm nestled against her bottom.
She blinked, adjusting to the morning light flooding through the open curtains, and couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across her face.
Who would have guessed the Bad-Boy Sheikh was a secret snuggler?
But, then, there were so many things she’d discovered about him last night. Information that she’d stored away carefully to take out and examine at a later date. Not just the devastating details about his childhood but also what she’d learned about his strength of character, his code of honour and his ability to admit when he was wrong.
The heat settled in her abdomen, loosening her thigh muscles and making her feel giddy at the memory of all the times he’d taken her during the night. That first time, fast and furious and frantic, and unbearably exciting.
And then later, as they’d sat eating together and he’d insisted on feeding her a bite of his steak, the succulent flavour had exploded on her tongue and she’d groaned. The food had been abandoned, and they’d ended up back in the bedroom—and this time the fire had built slowly, sensuously. He’d made her beg, using his tongue and teeth and touch to drive her insane. Around midnight, they’d bathed together in the whirlpool tub in the suite’s bathroom and then started all over again, making the delicious discovery that she could drive him insane in return. She’d finally dropped into a deep, dreamless sleep with his arms around her.
She sighed, the surge of arousal nothing new, but in the stark light of morning came self-consciousness as well.
