Modern Romance - The Best of the Year. Miranda LeeЧитать онлайн книгу.
I’ve been thinking for the last three days. What the hell are you doing? Distracting Aziza with piles of cheap gifts...just so she can impress her shallow friends—”
“They weren’t cheap, I assure you.”
“This is her life we’re talking about.” Her eyes filled with tears. “She’s too young to realize the choice she’s making.”
He stood in front of her, his muscular chest tanned and bare, both of them swayed by the gentle roll of the water in the darkness.
“We become older by the choices we make,” he said. “By the responsibilities we take—or don’t take. You know this already. How old were you when you started taking on responsibilities for your family—responsibilities that should never have been yours? Was that your choice? Or were you just doing what you had to do?”
She felt the sandy bottom beneath her feet. The water was high—all the way to her chest, and up to his ribs. The water’s gentle waves swayed their bodies. One hard wave could push them together. “We’re not talking about me.”
“We are now.”
“You don’t understand what you are making her give up. If she marries without love, she’ll never be happy, ever.”
“And you think you will?” He took a step toward her, his black eyes glittering. “You’re so desperate to save your pure body for marriage. But how will you know the difference between love and lust, Irene? You who have never known either one? What will stop you from throwing your life away to the first man who makes your body come alive?”
Every inch of her body felt alive right now. She felt the waves caressing her overheated skin as she looked up at his handsome, angry face. She licked her lips. “I...I’ll just know...”
“You won’t know. That’s the whole point.” He looked angrier. “You need to be taught the difference. To understand. So you won’t promise your whole soul and future away to some man who will never deserve it.”
She felt his gaze fall to her lips, and trembled all over. Her mouth tingled, aching for his kiss. Remembering it. But as he started to move toward her, she stepped back in the water.
“Tell me about her.”
“Who?”
“Your bride. What is her name?”
His handsome face was suddenly as immobile as stone. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“But I do.”
“What do you want to know, Irene? She is a poisonous snake who amuses herself with more lovers than drops of water in the sea.”
“I know there’s a double standard here, but have you considered your own long list?”
“It isn’t her lovers. It’s the way she relishes flaunting them. Telling me about them. She hates me even more than I hate her. She has—a cruel heart.”
Irene’s heart twisted at the thought of a woman like this being Sharif’s wife, at his side, in his bed. She swallowed. “And this is the woman you want to be queen of your country? The mother of your children?”
His eyes looked dark. “Leave it alone.”
“You think I might make a foolish choice in marriage because of lust?” she choked out. “Take a look at your own—because of pride!”
For a moment, she was afraid she’d pushed him too far. Then he looked away.
“It’s not pride,” he said in a low voice. “I am emir. I do not have the luxury of going back on my word, or offending Kalila’s powerful family. I cannot take the risk of Makhtar falling into chaos, into war, ever again. You don’t know what it was like.” He looked at her, his jaw tight. “I would die first.”
Irene looked at his taut shoulders. She thought of how few people she’d known in her life who would sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of strangers. She took two splashing steps toward him, then stopped, staring at his dark silhouette outlined by silver. His body was in shadow, illuminated by dappled moonlight, reflected from the water.
“Sharif.” She licked her lips. “I have to tell you something. I...”
He seemed to brace himself. She exhaled.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “All this time I thought you were a selfish playboy. The truth is you’re...noble.”
“Noble? No.” He shook his head. “I’m just...”
“What?”
“Doing my job.”
She felt a rush of admiration—even longing. She tried to push it aside. She couldn’t allow herself to feel desire, attraction...infatuation.
“I always knew I would someday be emir. I’ve known since birth that it was my fate.” He looked at her. “But you are free. You should enjoy it.”
Free? She’d never thought of it that way. But in some ways, it was true. Sharif, as a billionaire emir, was a prisoner of his people—the servant and slave of his country. While she, who’d grown up with nothing, who’d had to fight just to survive, had always had one thing he did not. The knowledge that the choice of what to do with her life was hers.
“What do you want, Irene?” Sharif said softly. “What will you choose for your future to be?”
The question made her throat hurt. Looking down at the water, she took a deep breath.
“I want to have security for my mother and sister. I want to help my mother go to rehab. I want to be able to pay for my sister to go to college if she wants. I want what I’ve always wanted. To take care of my family.”
“So we’re not very different after all. You’ve made sacrifices, taking responsibility for the people you love, even at a cost to yourself. You and I...” Cupping her cheek, Sharif said fiercely, “We are alike.”
Irene looked up at him with an intake of breath. For a moment, they stood together in the warm, swaying waters of the Persian Gulf, their eyes locked in the moonlight. She felt his hand against her cheek.
His gaze slowly fell down her body in the black swimsuit. Beads of water glistened on the tanned skin of his bare, muscular chest. The tension between them changed. His fingertips trailed down her cheek, then moved to tangle in her wet hair. He tilted her head back.
And lowering his head to hers slowly, very slowly, he kissed her.
The kiss was different than any between them before. Slow, and lingering, and deep. She felt the silk of his lips against hers, so powerful and strong, their tongues meeting and twisting and tasting, tangling together, like their souls.
Their nearly naked skin pressed against each other in the sliding waves of the water, pushing them against each other, pushing them apart. She wanted him...oh, yes. And he wanted her. Everything he’d said about lust was true. In this moment, with her smaller body wrapped in his, she wanted all of him, forever and ever. She didn’t think she could ever have enough. She wanted not just his body, but his heart.
She abruptly pulled away.
“You promised not to kiss me,” she said hoarsely.
“I never promised that. You asked. Then you broke your own rule by kissing me yourself.” He tried to keep his voice casual, but she heard the rough edge of his voice. “I still remember how you pulled me on top of you, in your bed.”
Her cheeks went hot. “I explained about that—”
“Yes.” His sensual mouth curved. “That you were dreaming of me.”
“I never said—”
“I thought,” he said, running a fingertip along her wet bare skin beneath her collarbone, “you were always going to tell me the truth.”
She