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‘It is one night,’ he lied, ‘and from a practical standpoint, it makes sense. You say you are flying out tomorrow. Why waste time in transit?’
India stared up at him with a sense that she was lost at sea, no rescue in sight. She was so angry with him, and it was making her lash out and argue over every small detail, when some of what he said had merit. Besides, she was so tired, the idea of being able to be asleep within minutes was what finally tempted her to concede.
‘Fine,’ she muttered. ‘If you insist.’
His response was to place his palm in the small of her back and guide her towards the door. It was a gesture that meant nothing and yet little lightning bolts of need speared through her, as though her body, filled with a portion of his DNA now, were genetically programmed to recognise and want him, even when her brain was shouting at her to pull away from the man. Only she was tired, and his touch gave her a strength and support she badly needed. At the door, he reached across and took her handbag, hooking it over his shoulder instead, relieving her of the burden of its weight.
She allowed him to do that, because it meant nothing, and it was temporary. In the morning, they’d talk about how this would work, she’d stick firm to the ideas she had for the kind of role that would work for her and their baby, and then she’d leave—putting him, this country, and the whole thing behind her.
But with every step they took, doubts began to plague her. She’d been so sure this was the right thing, but she acknowledged now that she’d given up all of her power by coming here to his country, right into the heart of his palace. Only her fears went way beyond that. Because irrespective of the fact that he was a sheikh and she was not, there was something between them that scared India to death.
She wanted him.
Their bodies were close, brushing as they moved, and it took all of her concentration to remember that she hated him, when her traitorous fingers were itching to reach for his chest, spin him around and feel his warmth against the palms of her hand.
It was all the more reason she had to get this over with and leave. One night with Khalil had been dangerously addictive, any more than that and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to get him out of her head, and, for the sake of her sanity, she had to move on.
