AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He stood, agitated and disturbed. He walked round the fire, then clasped her wrist to tug her off her rock until she stood toe to toe with him. The dark compassion in her eyes didn’t falter as she searched his face—still looking for answers, still trying to see that valiant boy who was long gone.
He cupped her cheek and dragged his thumb across her lips, unable to resist for a moment longer the temptation to touch her again that had been driving him for days.
She jolted, her gaze flaring with awareness now, as well as the deep compassion that was doing strange things to his stomach muscles.
Desire flared, potent and provocative, providing a handy escape from the raw emotion in her eyes.
‘I did not tell you because that boy died a long time ago,’ he said, his voice gruff with an emotion he didn’t want to feel.
Her eyes widened and it occurred to him he had just revealed something to her he had never revealed to another living soul. Hamid had died not long after he had joined the army and, after he had resigned his commission and made the investments which had made him a wealthy man, he had erased his past. He’d literally had all the records of his apprenticeship and his early life at the orphanage in Zultan destroyed.
‘Did he?’ she whispered, the approval in her gaze making his insides clench with a longing he hadn’t felt in many years—to matter to someone other than himself. She covered his hand with hers, her gaze rich with a fierce emotion he did not understand.
He didn’t want to be that boy. That boy might have appeared fierce and proud, but in reality he had been weak and pathetic. He had allowed himself to be beaten and abused, had made the mistake of wanting someone to care for him.
‘I’m not sure he did, Kamal,’ she said.
The betraying glow in his chest spread through his system but he braced against it.
He hated that she still saw that boy. And that she might understand him in ways that boy would once have yearned to be understood, but which the man knew were fundamental weaknesses.
He breathed in her scent—that intoxicating aroma of fresh water, salty sweat and the sweet musk of feminine arousal.
He threaded his fingers into her hair, clasping the back of her skull to lift her face to his.
‘Do not mistake me for that boy, or I will have to prove I am very much a man,’ he murmured against her lips.
Arousal flared, turning the crystal-blue of her irises to black. She shivered, her reaction like that of a wild horse ready to be tamed.
Anticipation surged, turning the threatening warmth to scorching heat.
Then her lips parted in an instinctive sign of her surrender. It was all the invitation he needed to slant his lips across hers and plunder.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LIAHOPENEDHERmouth as Kamal’s tongue thrust within—commanding, devastating but also desperate. She let the giddy ache build, pressed her body to the hard unforgiving contours of his and absorbed the thrill of connection, of yearning. And ignored the small voice in her head telling her to be careful.
She needed this, needed him...because he needed her too. She could feel it in the rasp of his breathing as his tongue delved and possessed. She grasped his shirt in handfuls to drag him closer as his callused palms roamed down her back then cupped her backside, making her brutally aware of the ridge in his pants.
He lifted her into his arms, dragging his mouth from hers. ‘Wrap your legs around my waist.’
She did as he demanded without an argument, surrendering to the madness. He marched them through the camp site towards his own tent. Firelight flickered in his dark eyes as she continued to kiss him—pressing her lips to the scar on his cheek, his stubborn chin, the fierce frown on his forehead.
Perhaps she should have been worried about what this all meant for them both—especially after what had happened the last time she’d made love to this man. But this didn’t feel like a surrender, it felt like a meeting of equals.
Whipping away the tent flap, he headed across the luxurious space, drenched in moonlight. Starlight sparkled through the hole in the tent roof, magical and romantic. Her breath hitched at the strange beauty of the setting. But the enchantment faded, becoming more urgent, more elemental, as he placed her on her feet beside his bed.
He ripped open his shirt, flung it away then got to work on his trousers.
‘Undress, Kaliah.’
The harsh command made her shudder, but again she followed his orders, tugging off her T-shirt, slipping off her boots and jeans and scrambling out of her underwear—until they stood naked, only inches apart.
His chest looked even more magnificent than she remembered it, but as she curved her fingers over one broad shoulder she touched the ridges on his back. He shuddered, his gaze intensifying—the flash of vulnerability so vivid for a moment, her chest tightened, even as need shuddered to her core.
Her heart expanded, her breathing laboured, as she drew her fingers down his chest, brushing over the flat nipples, trailing through the thin line of hair which bisected his abs, until she got to the thicket at his groin.
He let her explore, standing stoically as he allowed her to touch, tempt and tantalise. She discovered other scars—a small one across his left pec, another mark slanting over his ribs, one more that grazed his obliques. How could she have been so preoccupied in her own pleasure not to have noticed them before?
