Magnates: Desert Prince, Bride of Innocence. Lynne GrahamЧитать онлайн книгу.
away her resistance; it was a very long time since that night of passion.
He closed an assured hand into the tumble of her Titian curls and tilted her face up to his. Scorching eyes raked over her and she trembled, maddeningly conscious of the tightening of her nipples and the surge of heat and moisture at the apex of her thighs. At an almost scornfully slow pace, he tugged her up against him and traced the fullness of her lower lip with his fingertip. When that finger slid between her parted lips it was the most erotic thing she had ever known and the tightening knot low in her pelvis made her press her thighs together in an effort to contain the tingling sensation of immediate arousal.
The silence sizzled as their eyes collided. He kissed her with smouldering sexual skill and she quivered violently, fighting the tiny ripples of arousal currenting through her body with all her might. His tongue delved deep in a sweeping reconnaissance that tensed her every muscle.
‘Am I vain?’ Jasim husked against the swollen pink contours of her mouth. ‘I don’t think so. I excite you.’
And that was the taunt that finally gave her the strength to do what she should have done much sooner and push him away from her. On legs that were distinctly unsteady she stalked over to the window, where she stood struggling to catch her breath. But he had hit her problem right on the head, she acknowledged with bitter self-loathing. Excitement. He filled her with it and seduced her with it. She could not resist that wild charge of electrifying excitement or the explosive high ignited by his touch. Even standing there with her hands curled into defensive fists, she could still feel the magnetic pull of him and the painful aftermath of a desire that had to go unsatisfied.
‘Have you nothing to say?’ Jasim drawled smooth as silk.
Affronted by the knowledge that he knew her weakness, Elinor spun back to face him, a hectic flush staining her delicate cheekbones. ‘Sami is much more important to me than excitement!’
‘If that is true, I honour you for it, but you should also have the ability to foresee our son’s needs both now and in the future,’ Jasim asserted. ‘As a boy grows he will need a father more and more. All of my family will cherish him, as will I—’
Elinor tore her attention from him. ‘I don’t want to be your wife.’
‘But you are and for Sami’s sake that must not change. A divorce would create a great scandal in my country and would be a lifelong source of shame and embarrassment for our son.’
At that news, her heart sank inside her. She could feel the bars of a steel cage of restraint tightening round her. If Sami’s standing could be damaged by their divorce how could she push for one? Could she be that selfish? Could she think only of what she wanted now at this point in time? Or should she be willing to compromise? From below her feathery lashes she studied Jasim, her gaze wandering over the proud slash of his bold cheekbones, the classic hollows beneath, the arrogant jut of his narrow-bladed nose segueing down into the chiselled perfection of his well-formed mouth. She remembered the silky feel of his hair beneath her fingertips, and, more dangerously, the heat and urgency of his strong lean body against hers. She tensed in rejection.
He was gorgeous and she was married to him, but he was also utterly without conscience and ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted. A chill like an ice cube melting settled low in Elinor’s stomach. He wanted Sami …
CHAPTER SIX
THE following afternoon Jasim strode out of the office he had picked to work in for its proximity to the nursery. He paused by the glass barrier to look down into the crèche on the floor below.
Sami was in a high chair just within his father’s view, his dark curly head turned towards an assistant, who was serving snacks. Jasim’s ebony brows drew together in a frown. His son appeared to spend too much of the day strapped into seats and play equipment like a miniature prisoner in perpetual physical restraint. He was safe but bored, his freedom to explore severely curtailed, and all elements of fun and even learning denied him by such a restrictive care regime.
A troubled light in his keen gaze, Jasim reluctantly recalled his own desolate childhood. He had never known his mother and he had not even been able to put a face to his father until he was over ten years old. Nobody had ever swept Jasim up in a hug when he cried; the guidelines for his upbringing had been exceedingly strict. He had been schooled from an early age at a military academy abroad where he had learned rigid discipline and self-command as well as how to handle the beatings and pranks that the younger boys endured behind the backs of the staff. His father had been a distant royal figure of unimaginable power who had censured his second son at a distance through the medium of an aide whenever school reports had showed Jasim to be anything less than top-notch at any academic subject or sport. Thankfully, Jasim had been born both clever and athletic and he had excelled. Even so, his many achievements had won him neither praise nor affection.
Having suffered such a tough upbringing, Jasim was eager to ensure a very different childhood for his son. In Quaram, Sami would not spend a good part of his day anchored in one place. He would be free to roam with attentive staff in tow to ensure he didn’t get hurt. He watched as Sami lifted his toast and then, having knocked his elbow on a toy on the tray, accidentally dropped it again. The bread fell to the floor and Sami strained and strained a short arm to recapture it. Sami looked around then, visibly seeking attention, but no one appeared to notice what had happened. Finally the little boy flung back his curly head and started to cry.
Jasim found himself on the stairs without remembering the decision to go there. Huge fat tears were now rolling down Sami’s red cheeks. Never had a baby looked so wretched to Jasim. An assistant gave Sami a toy in an attempt to distract him. Sami flung it away in an expression of hot temper that surprised his father. But the little boy’s anger was short-lived. From the foot of the stairs, Jasim saw tears overflowing again from Sami’s big brown eyes while tempestuous sobs shook his solid little body. His son was the very picture of misery and nobody was even trying to comfort him. Several children were in need of attention and it was a challenge for the assistants to take care of them all. Jasim could not bear to stand by and do nothing for his son. He was pierced to the heart by the sight of Sami’s unhappiness. He strode into the nursery, sidestepped the startled manageress, and headed straight for Sami. It took the matter of a moment to release the sobbing baby from his restraints and hoist him up into his arms. Sami clung to his father and continued to sob inconsolably.
‘I am taking my son home early,’ Jasim informed the manageress.
He lifted another piece of toast from the plate abandoned nearby and presented Sami with it. The child stopped mid-howl, grasped the bread frantically between his short fingers and began to cram it into his mouth. He behaved as if he’d been brought up in a Stone-Age cave, Jasim reflected in appalled wonderment, his immaculate business suit and even his hair bespattered with crumbs.
Jasim emerged with Sami from the nursery to find his security team and his aides awaiting his next move in frank astonishment. Any kind of hands-on parenting in the Rais masculine bloodline had never, ever featured in the annals of the family. But Jasim, in delighted receipt of Sami’s beaming two-toothed gummy smile of gratitude, was experiencing an enlightening high of relief and accomplishment and he was impervious to his shocked and uncomprehending audience.
Elinor worked doggedly through the afternoon, in spite of the fact that she was terrified that she would simply fall asleep over her computer. She had barely slept the night before and had awakened with a headache. It had taken great motivation to go to work and the doubts that had kept her awake during the night continued to interfere with her concentration. She continued to torment herself with questions that she couldn’t answer. Did she owe it to Sami to give her marriage a second chance? Was that the best thing she could do for her son? Sacrifice her needs and wishes in favour of his taking his rightful place as an heir to the throne of Quaram? For how long would Jasim stay in London?
There was little point bewailing what could not be changed now, she told herself heavily. Jasim was who he was—as was Sami. But she loved Sami to the very depths of her soul and feared his father’s interference in their lives. Olivia, thankfully, had kept the secret