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Chapter Nine

I turnedto face Ashur and came to an abrupt halt.

Instead of the impeccably tailored suit I expected him to be in, he wore a large towel wrapped around his waist. He rubbed his damp hair with a small cloth as beads of water trailed along the tanned skin of his broad shoulders and washboard abs.

It took all my effort not to lick my lips.

His honed form was a work of art.

He no longer possessed the lean physique of the boy I’d fallen in love with but that of a man who’d built his muscles from years of military training. There wasn’t an inch of unnecessary fat on him, and his chiseled abs would put a bodybuilder to shame. The only things marring his gorgeous form were the slight scars on his waist and chest. He’d incorporated them into the Indian-inspired tattoos that covered most of the left half of his upper body, making me want to trace each design around them. Not just with my finger but my tongue.

And then there was the way the towel clung to him. Dear lord, a woman had to be dead not to drool and hope for a peek at the package hidden under the cloth.

Shit, what was I doing?

Get your hormones in check, Tara Zain. Your entire family is waiting for you down the hall.

I ignored my self-reprimand and continued to examine Ashur’s body. Politicians were supposed to be balding with potbellies. Not sexy as sin, covered in tattoos, and looking like they should be on the cover of a wet Wednesday calendar.

“Want me to lose the towel?” A smirk touched his lips.

Damn. He’d caught me staring at his body.

“I’ll let you touch me anywhere you desire. I only ask that I get to return the favor.”

I crossed my arms and tapped my foot and desperately hoped he hadn’t caught the heat on my cheeks or the pebbling of my nipples.

“Why are you taking a shower now?”

“Tyler and I went for a run.”

“I didn’t know you were still training for the marathon.”

He wiped at the water dripping from his hair. “I’m not, but I needed something to take the edge off and a long, hard run is only a small consolation for what I really want.”

His gaze bored into mine as a wave of heavy lust flooded my system.

“Will you get dressed? Our wedding party is waiting for us.” I gave him my most no-nonsense voice, the one that I used during negotiations. “Samina is probably on the verge of stabbing your father at any moment.”

“Are you sure you want me to put on clothes? The way your body reacts every time I’m near tells me otherwise.”

“It tells you nothing.” I was such a liar. He knew it. I knew it.

If I didn’t want him, I wouldn’t have nearly let him take me in his office, against an antique side table, in the only spot a camera couldn’t record us.

The memory added to my desire and I barely held in a moan.

He walked toward me with a predatory gleam in his eyes that made me want to retreat.

“Oh, but it does. Want me to list the ways?”

I lifted my chin and challenged, “Go ahead.”

Why the hell did I say that?

He took a step. “I’ll start with the way your breath changes when my hand grazes your lower back as we walk into any room together.”

Step.