Page 39 of Desert King's Forbidden Temptation

She bit down on her lower lip. ‘You know the answer to that.’

‘I’m asking you to join me for dinner, not a night in my bed.’

Her cheeks flushed red, heat overwhelming her body as the idea of that sent her senses into overdrive.

‘I—’ Her heart was in her throat, her breath constricted as she tried to form two coherent thoughts, to put into her words how she felt and what she wanted. In the end, all she could do was nod.

‘Good.’ His answering nod of approval skittered her nerves further and a moment later, he was stepping into the kitchen, so close to her that Eloise’s tummy twisted into a tangle she’d never felt before. He turned his back, giving her an opportunity to relax, and also to regard him. The two were incompatible; she settled on staring.

He moved with a natural athleticism; a lithe strength contained in even the simplest of movements. He pulled a container from the freezer, placing it on the bench, then crouched down to remove a pan from the cupboard. She watched, fascinated, as he opened the Tupperware then emptied it into the pot, placing it on the stove. A moment later, he turned to face her, his expression lightly amused, as though he recognised she’d been staring at him completely unreservedly.

Chastened, she stood straighter, a defensive tilt to her chin.

‘Will you be offended if I remove my thobe?’

She furrowed her brow.

‘It’s easier to cook,’ he explained, and when she didn’t immediately refuse, he turned his back and carefully undid the button that held it in place, unwrapping it from his body and laying it with care across the back of a chair.

Her mouth went dry. It wasn’t as though he’d stripped naked—he wore traditional cuffed trousers and a loose-fitting cotton shirt—but there was something so intimate about him undressing in front of her, even if just down to clothes. She looked away quickly, cheeks heated.

‘How old were you when your parents died?’

It was a direct question, asked as if he had a right to the information, and strangely, she didn’t resent that.

‘Eleven.’

He nodded thoughtfully, moving to the fridge and removing a bottle of mineral water. ‘How did it happen?’

Another direct question. She focused on the deft movements of his hands, shucking the lid off the bottle, then pouring it into two thick glasses.

‘A car accident.’ His hand shifted, slightly, so the top of the bottle knocked a glass. It was a strange, jarring movement from a man who was in such possession of himself. ‘They’d been at a party.’

‘You weren’t with them?’ His voice sounded normal, though. Nothing untoward. She frowned, remembering that night with a heavy heart, as always.

‘No. They left me home.’

‘Alone?’

She lifted her shoulders. ‘I liked to be home alone.’

Sympathy softened the corners of his eyes. She blinked away, self-conscious.

‘I read a lot,’ she elaborated.

‘Because it helped you escape?’

‘Exactly.’ Her heart expanded with how quickly he’d understood. Their eyes met and the world seemed to contract and expand rapidly, so she wondered how everyone didn’t feel the gigantic fault lines forming. ‘Somewhere in the early hours of the morning, a policeman came to the house. My mother had survived long enough to tell them about me.’

‘How did you feel?’

She took a gulp of mineral water. ‘My parents had just died. How do you think I felt?’

‘Conflicted,’ he responded, without missing a beat. Her lips parted in surprise.

It was like he had a direct tunnel into her thoughts.

‘I was devastated. I loved my parents very much,’ she insisted defensively, cupping the glass with both hands. ‘But yes,’ she admitted slowly, reluctantly, and yet, also gladly, because she’d never spoken to another soul about this—even Elana. It was impossible to admit without feeling that it made her a terrible person, and yet with Tariq, that didn’t seem important.

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