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He expelled a slow breath, a sound of relief. ‘I’m glad you’re not planning on running away again.’
She lifted a brow. ‘I think you’ve given me incentive to stick around. At least for a little while.’
His laugh was husky. He weaved his fingers through hers and drew her towards the door of the bedroom but she stopped walking. ‘My clothes.’ He was, after all, wearing a towel around his hips.
He paused, turning to face her thoughtfully before dropping her hand and pacing to the pile of fabric on the floor. He liberated her silk underpants, crossing to her and crouching at her feet, holding them for her to step into. She pressed a hand to his shoulder to steady herself, and he eased the underwear up her legs. But at her thighs, he paused, bringing his head forward and pressing a kiss to the top, so she trembled against him and might have lost her balance were it not for the grip on his shoulder. She felt his smile against her flesh.
Another kiss, nearer her womanhood, and then his mouth was there, his tongue pressing against her sex until he found her most sensitive cluster of nerves and tormented it with his ministrations, tasting her, teasing her, sucking her until she exploded in a blinding explosion. She dug her nails into his skin and she cried into the room, pleasure making her incoherent.
He lifted his head, his eyes on hers, his expression impossible to discern, and then he lifted her underpants into place, standing as he did so.
‘No more clothes.’
Her heart was racing too fast to permit her to speak.
‘I like looking at you.’
The words were delivered with the power that she knew came instinctively to him, and even when there was a part of her that might have felt self-conscious, his obvious admiration drove that away, so she shrugged, incapable of speaking.
‘Good.’ His approval warmed her. ‘Come and eat.’
She was surprisingly hungry, so the feast he’d ordered was a welcome surprise. She hadn’t seen it being delivered and unpacked, but it looked as though he’d had a feast of foods prepared, their exotic fragrance making her mouth water.
‘Delicacies from the RKH,’ he explained. ‘Fish with okra and spice.’ He pointed to one dish. ‘Lamb with olives and couscous, chicken and pomegranate, spinach and raisin flat bread, and aubergine and citrus tagine.’
‘Wow.’ She stared at the banquet. ‘This was just for you?’
‘I suspected you’d join me.’
She laughed softly. ‘Am I that predictable?’
‘I’m that determined,’ he corrected softly, running a finger over her arm so she trembled with sensations. ‘I wanted you from the moment I saw you.’
‘And you always get what you want?’
Darkness coloured his expression for a moment and she could have kicked herself. He was grieving his father’s premature death—obviously that wasn’t the case.
‘Not always, no.’
She nodded, glad he didn’t elaborate. ‘What should I try first?’
‘The lamb is a favourite of mine.’ He gestured towards the plate. She moved towards it, inhaling the heady mix of fragrances the table conveyed. Contrary to his prediction, the food was only warm, not cold, which made it easier to taste. She scooped a small heaping of each onto her plate, only remembering she was naked when she sat down and her breasts pressed against the edge of the table. Heat flushed through her and she jerked her gaze to his to find him watching her intently.
She shovelled some food into her mouth to hide the flush of self-consciousness, and sharply forgot to feel anything except admiration for this meal. ‘It’s delicious,’ she murmured, as soon as she’d swallowed.
‘I’m glad you think so.’
‘I don’t know much about your country,’ she apologised. ‘And I had no idea the food was so good.’
‘There are two RKH restaurants in Manhattan,’ he said with a lift of one brow.
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘One off Wall Street and one in mid-town. This food came from the latter.’
‘It wasn’t prepared here?’
‘No offence to your hotel staff, but RKH cooking is a slow process. Much done in the tagine, which takes hours. There are also a range of spices used that don’t tend to be readily available in your kitchens.’
