Heir to a Dark Inheritance Page 8

  “How is it made meaningless by a comment? I didn’t physically destroy the marriage license, or any of the adoption paperwork, and that is what gives you your status.”

  Logic. He would try and use logic to defuse the situation.

  Judging by the stormy look on her face, it didn’t work.

  “That’s your problem, Alik. You see things in black-and-white. You see them as blood or paperwork without taking the heart into the equation, and you can’t do that.” She turned and walked from the room, leaving him standing there alone.

  Why the hell hadn’t he left? He could get some peace and quiet. Stop worrying about Leena bumping her head on the stone floors.

  He could find a woman. He could go and get laid and stop obsessing about Jada.

  He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his personal assistant. “Luca, forward my calls. I will be here in Attar working for the foreseeable future.”

  He punched the end call button and sat down at the table. He put his palm on the table and into a spot of mushed banana. He grimaced. “Coffee!” he shouted, not caring he sounded demanding. He had to have control over something.

  Because he seemed to have lost control over a hell of a lot since Jada Patel had entered his life.

  Leena was sound asleep, and Jada found she envied her daughter. Leena didn’t have any cares. She slept soundly and with a clean conscience, while Jada paced around in the dark feeling overheated and guilty. And a little dirty.

  She should be upset at Alik. She was upset at Alik. But what she shouldn’t be was attracted to Alik, and she found that no matter how stupid and offensive the things that came out of his mouth were, the feelings didn’t go away.

  They hadn’t been instant. Not anywhere near it. She’d been too angry with him, had hated him too much initially. She wasn’t sure she liked him a whole lot more now, but being in proximity with him had given her time to notice what she hadn’t at first.

  And that was basically a chiseled jaw, flawless muscle structure and eyes that seemed to see straight through her. Or at least straight through her clothes. Which, again, should be much more offensive than it was.

  She huffed and walked out of her bedroom, closing the door gently behind her, and heading down the stairs, out to the garden area. The palace was still hard for her to navigate, less so now that she’d realized it had light switches. The memory made her smile and she forced herself to stop. No dreamy, smiley-type memories of Alik.

  It was manufactured. Because if she went further with that memory, she would come to the crude, awful things he’d said to her in the hall. About kissing her. Touching her.

  Her body heated. With rage, she was sure. Because it had been crude. Not exciting.

  She pushed open the ornate double doors that led out to the pool and the gardens. She paused and headed toward the pool, which was set into the balcony, overlooking the ocean.

  She stopped when she heard the sound of water in motion, closer than the waves below. And she had to wonder if she’d come here on purpose, hoping a little bit that she might find him.

  He hadn’t seen her yet, though. There was no way.

  She could just barely make out his shape. He was gliding through the water, a dark shadow in the brightly lit pool. Like a shark. She had to stop comparing him to predators—it was giving her a complex. Making her feel hunted.

  Another rash of heat spread through her. What was wrong with her? Where was sensible, practical Jada?

  “Jada.” His head was above the surface now and he was treading water, his eyes fixed on her.

  “How do you do that?” she asked.

  “If I was not good at sensing when people were present, I would be dead by now.”

  “You say that with such certainty.”

  “I am certain of it.” He swam to the edge of the pool, planting his palms firmly on the side and levering himself out of the water.

  She watched the play of his muscles, water sliding down over the dips and hollows. Her throat felt suddenly dry and she realized she was thirsty. That brought to mind the image of her sliding her tongue over his skin, collecting the drops and…

  She blinked. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Obviously neither could you.”

  “Not so much.” He reached down and took a towel from one of the chairs that lined the pool, dragging it over his broad chest. Her eyes followed the motion.

  She could see now, more clearly, the tattoo on his chest, and when he raised his arm to brush the towel over his short dark hair, she saw another one, words, running the length of his bicep.

  “What do they mean?” she asked.

  “This one?” he pointed to the inside of his wrist, the black anchor. “Nothing. I was very drunk that night.”

  “And the one on your chest? It’s written in Arabic, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I got it after that hideous injury healed. I don’t often complain about pain, but that one hurt.” He paused. “It was after Sayid was taken captive. He was in prison for a year. That’s how long it took us to find him. A year of intel, of threats and whatever else we could do to convince his enemies to reveal his whereabouts. I got it just before we executed the mission to rescue him. It’s a common proverb here, something parents say to their children. ‘At the time of a test, a person rises or falls.’ I knew that when I went in after Sayid, I would rise or fall with him. Luckily, we lived.”

  “Yes, luckily.”

  White teeth flashed in the darkness, one of his naughty smiles, she was sure. “You don’t sound overly thrilled about me coming out of it alive, Jada.”

  “I wouldn’t wish death on you. Not on anyone. I’m glad Leena has a father.” Though she wished Leena could have a father more capable of loving her. Alik cared, she could see that. There was a fierce protectiveness that ran through his actions with his daughter, but there was no tenderness. He almost seemed afraid of her. Afraid to touch her.

  She thought back to their earlier conversation about babies and wondered if he was worried that she’d break beneath his touch.

  “You just wish it wasn’t me,” he said. There was emotion beneath his words, and she was startled by it. She was used to cool detachment from him, from a logical approach to things that simply couldn’t be reasoned out, in her opinion.

  She shook her head. “Not necessarily.”

  “She would be your husband’s daughter, if he were still alive.”

  She closed her eyes and fought a wave of sadness as it washed over her. Typical of Alik to say, with overwhelming casualness, the most hurtful thing. And to not even realize or understand it. No, Sunil wouldn’t have been Leena’s father. Because with him, she wasn’t sure adoption would have ever happened. Thinking about that just confused her. Hurt her.

  “But he’s not.” She opened her eyes again. “He’s not here. He’s not her father. And I’ve moved on from that.”

  “You have moved on?”

  She blinked, knowing her next words would be a lie. “Yes.”

  “How? Explain to me how you have moved on? You have had other lovers?”

  She hadn’t even been on a date. Hadn’t looked at another man. Hadn’t wanted to. Until Alik. And since she’d met him she still didn’t want to look at another man, she was just finding it difficult not to. “No. I was focused on the adoption.”

  “Then how is it you’ve moved on?”

  “How do you move on?” she asked. She knew he wouldn’t know. He didn’t understand things like that. Things like emotion and pain, things like what it meant to love someone. “I mean, really. That part of my life is a part of me. It’s who I am.”

  “And what do you mean by that?”

  “I spent most of my adult life being his wife. Learning how to live with him, as you do with any marriage. Cooking food just how he liked it.”

  “Making love how he liked it?”

  Her cheeks burned. “That too.”

  “And what about what you like?”

  “Marriage is comp
romise,” she said. “You give, your spouse gives. You form a new shape to accommodate them. And then when you lose them…”

  “The changes don’t make sense?”

  She nodded slowly. “Something like that.”

  “She would, perhaps, be better off with your first husband than with me.”

  His tone was rough now, an edge to it.

  “I don’t resent your place in Leena’s life,” she said, realizing that it was true.

  “I think you do.”

  “No, Alik. I only resent your place in my life.”

  “I see. And what about it do you find so objectionable?”

  “You’re my husband,” she said, her voice cutting itself off, choking itself out. “And you shouldn’t be.”

  “Tell me honestly, did you ever plan to marry again?”

  “No.”

  “Then why does it matter what title I have. You are all about the heart, Jada, in which case, to you, no matter if I’m your husband on paper, the fact that I’m not your husband in your heart is all that should matter.”

  But it did. She wanted to scream it. Wanted to shout it to the heavens so he would understand. It mattered because only one man should ever have had the title. It mattered, but it shouldn’t. She knew that.

  Signing a document wasn’t what forged a bond between people, and yet…there was something. Husband was still a meaningful position whether she wanted it to be or not. That was the real problem. Not that she felt nothing, but that she was starting to. And maybe it was down to Leena, to their connection with her.

  That she could handle. Yes, they should feel bonded over Leena. They both wanted what was best for her and had acted in her best interest. So of course, they would feel a connection. Not that he did—she doubted Alik was bothered with her at all. But with her maternal instinct and all, it was logical she would feel something.

  And that was all. She was sure of it.

  “I don’t know how you can be so calm about it. This is hardly how I saw my life going.”

  “Maybe then, that is the difference between you and me. I didn’t see my life going anywhere.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Every day I got up and didn’t count on making it back to my bed that night to sleep. I lived every day like it would be my last one, and sometimes I made an attempt to make it my last one. Oh, not actively, but safety has never been high on my list of priorities. So it’s very hard to be disappointed at how your life has turned out when it’s a surprise that you’re still living at all.”

  His words chilled her down to her bones, and at the same time, the fire that was blazing in his eyes ignited her soul. She had always planned, always worried. Had always held life close to her chest like the precious gift that it was. And she had gotten so much pain, so many carefully laid plans utterly destroyed. What would it be like to be covered in a layer of armor as thick as Alik’s? Would things roll off? Would life feel easier? She imagined that it might. Things had been so hard for so long she could hardly imagine what it might be like to have it just be simple for a while.

  Alik’s life certainly wasn’t easy—it wasn’t even terribly happy and yet he seemed so much more at ease with all of it.

  “Failing that,” he said, his voice getting rougher, deeper, causing everything in her to respond to it, “I could always try and make you feel more married to me.”

  He took a step toward her and she knew what was going to happen. She also knew that she should tell him to stop. That she should be good and sensible. That she should ignore the rapid beat of her pulse, and the tightening in her stomach. That she should embrace logical thought, and reason.

  But she didn’t. She just stood and watched him advance, her throat dry, her breath coming in harsh, shallow bursts.

  Why wasn’t she running? Why wasn’t she telling him no?

  Because I don’t want to.

  He hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her up against his body. Water from his bare skin soaked through her cotton top, the chill making her nipples tighten. She wasn’t wearing a bra because she’d been dressed for bed and now she was unbearably conscious of the fact and, heaven help her, grateful.

  He cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forced her to meet his gaze, and a flame burst to life inside of her. She wanted, so much it was painful, the need hot, raging, threatening to destroy everything if it wasn’t met.

  The tip of his thumb touched her lips, and she opened her mouth, tasted the salt on his skin from the water drops. She sucked on him, gently, and a rough growl came from deep in his chest. He tightened his hold on her and pulled her in tight, and in one fluid motion, he dipped his head and started kissing her.

  Deep, sensuous, his tongue sliding against hers, tracing the line of her lips, before delving deep again. She’d never been kissed like this. So hard, so desperate. She didn’t know where the hunger had come from. And then she had to wonder if it was coming from her.

  This kiss was different because she had never wanted like this. Had never craved a man in quite this way.

  She flattened her palms on his chest, his skin slick, hair roughened and hot beneath her hands. And she could feel his heart, throbbing fast and hard, proof that he felt it, too. That he felt the intensity like she did.

  He lowered his hand and palmed her butt, drawing her in closer, bringing the V at the apex of her thighs into contact with the hard evidence of his desire. She moved her hands off his chest and looped them around his neck, forking her fingers through his hair, holding him tight.

  His hand slid upward and then down the waistband of her sweatpants, beneath her underwear. She gasped when his callused palm cupped her skin, and she sighed when he squeezed her tight, amping up the tension, her need, making her ache for him.

  He pushed his other hand beneath her top, found her breast, squeezed her nipple tight before sliding his thumb over it. She arched into his touch, raking her nails over his back and letting her head fall back. He took advantage of her exposed throat, pressing hot, openmouthed kisses to her skin.

  He pushed his hand up higher and managed to strip her of her top in one easy motion, then he kissed her mouth again, deeper, harder, and she couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember why she’d ever wanted to run from this. Couldn’t remember why she was here or even who she was. All she knew was that she wanted more. Whatever he would give, she wanted more.

  He moved his hand down from her butt, pushing it between her thighs, sliding his fingers between her slick folds. If she could have thought, she would have been embarrassed over just how obvious it was that she wanted him, over just how ready she was, so fast. But she couldn’t think past the burning pleasure that was arcing along her veins.

  One finger slid over her clitoris and she pulled her mouth away from his, a strangled cry, too loud in the still of the night, escaping her lips, pushing against the haze of fantasy she’d built up to block out reality.

  And then it hit her, with full, hideous force. She was half-naked, outside, with a man she barely knew and she was about to let him have sex with her.

  She pulled away from him, gasping for air, looking around frantically for her shirt. She ran through a litany of curse words just under her breath while she bent to retrieve her top and tugged it over her head.

  “What happened?” Alik asked.

  “What happened? You kissed me and then thirty seconds later you were stripping me naked and…touching me.”

  “Are you going to pretend that you didn’t like it?” he asked. “Because I have a low tolerance for things like that.”

  “I don’t do things like this.”

  He looked at her, slow, appraising. Making her hot all over again. “Maybe you should, because you’re very good at it.”

  She frowned, wrapping her arms around herself, a shiver racking her frame. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That I enjoyed kissing you. And touching you. And I would very much enjoy taking it to its logical conclusion.”r />
  “But to what end?” she asked.

  He frowned. “Orgasm, what else?”

  She let out a short, frustrated growl. “Is that all that matters to you? Not if we mess up what we’re trying to build for Leena, but having an orgasm?”

  “Why would it mess anything up?”

  “Are you truly so obtuse?” She examined the look on his face, totally blank, totally unruffled, and she suddenly started to understand. “It would honestly make no difference to you, would it?”

  “What we do in the bedroom would be separate from how we raise Leena.”

  “But sex isn’t separate from a relationship—it’s woven through it. You can’t simply ignore it during the day.”

  “Why not? I don’t see how sex is connected to the day to day. It’s a release, an adrenaline rush. My favorite way to get one, in fact, but it hardly affects what I do with the rest of my time.”

  “And that’s why we can’t. Because I can’t separate it. Because I know what it can mean. How close it can make people. And you never will.”

  “I don’t feel I especially need to know it.”

  “I know, Alik. And that’s another problem.” Jada crossed her arms beneath her breasts and walked back into the house, making a concerted effort not to look back at him. That might look like longing. It might look like she regretted the decision to stop. And she didn’t. She couldn’t.

  This kind of thing might be fine for some people. It might be fine for Alik, but it wasn’t her. Love was stronger than lust; it was more important. No matter how much she might think she wanted Alik, that was just physical. And the physical wasn’t all that important.

  She liked the physical, but you couldn’t cuddle up with the physical afterward. And it wouldn’t sit and have pancakes with you in the morning. Wouldn’t hold you when you cried. The physical was only good for one thing, and she just didn’t live her life that way.

  It wasn’t her.

  Of course, that meant she would be living the rest of her life feeling very physically unsatisfied. Because she wasn’t doing love again. And without love, she wasn’t doing sex.