Page 41

W hen Darius returned to the suite, he found Tahira sitting alone on the living room sofa, with worry in her eyes. She’d changed out of her dress and heels into pajamas with a robe and slippers. Her gaze met his. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” he replied with a fake smile painted on his face, as he unbuttoned his dress shirt to reveal a white T-shirt underneath.

She frowned at him. “Darius, please do not lie to me. I know when something is wrong, and we should not have any secrets between us. After all, we share the biggest secret of my life.”

After removing his suit jacket, shirt, and tie and draping them over the back of one of the chairs, he sat down on the couch next to her and took her hand. He didn’t want to do this, but, when she put it that way, he couldn’t deny her. “We may have discovered who was involved in your kidnapping.”

Her eyes widened. “Who?”

“There were phone calls we've connected from your cousin’s friend, Diallo, to Felix Secada.”

She blanched, and Darius figured it was more from her rapist’s name, than the man’s connection to someone she knew.

Her face turned red, and outrage flared in her eyes.

“I never liked him, but—but why would he have done this to me? Why would he have done this to any of us? He likes Lahana—I know it. He’s always flirting with her and staring at her.

Why would he put her, Nala, and me through that? ”

Shrugging, Darius shook his head. “I have no idea, sweetheart. But we're going to find out instead of returning home to Clearwater after visiting my brother and sister and father. Amar is having Diallo and Farid brought to the embassy in D.C. for questioning.”

An incredulous gasp escaped her. “You think Farid is involved?”

“No. Well, we don’t know, honestly, but we’ll find out tomorrow. Since they’re best friends, even if Farid is not involved, he may know something he doesn’t realize he knows.”

Sagging back into the couch, Tahira shook her head. “I cannot believe ... I mean, why?

Darius’s heart broke when he saw her eyes overflowing with tears. He knew she was reliving the horror of her captivity and rape again. Reaching over, he pulled her onto his lap. He cupped her face in his hands and gently kissed her cheeks, sipping the salty tears from her skin.

“Don't cry, Princess,” he whispered. “God, please don’t—it kills me when you cry.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, and she parted her lips immediately, allowing his tongue to pass between them and taste her. Her tongue tentatively danced with his. He should let her go, but her arms went around his neck and kept him close.

A cough, a giggle, and some murmurs came from her brother’s bedroom, and Tahira pulled away, but not far.

Her heavy-lidded gaze made him hard as a rock, but he restrained himself.

He would follow her lead, not giving her anything more than what she asked for.

Hell, probably less than she asked for. Tahira wanted to be a virgin on her wedding night, and Darius was determined for that to happen, despite her torn barrier of womanhood.

His aching cock would just have to deal with it.

He’d been taking cold showers almost daily.

If he had to take them throughout their short-term marriage, then so be it.

But at least he could show her she was desirable and not every man was a bastard who liked to hurt women.

He’d show her how she deserved to be treated and not to accept anything less from whoever her future husband was.

“Would you come lie down with me for a little while?” Her husky whisper nearly drove him crazy.

“Is that a good idea? If your brother—”

“If our doors are shut, he will not suspect a thing. Besides, I am certain he has other things on his mind at the moment. He and Kainda wish to have a baby.”

Her knowing wink caused him to chuckle. Tahira might be innocent, but she wasn’t na?ve about what was going on in the other bedroom.

“Please, Darius. Just for a little while. I do not want to be alone.”

Before she could stand up, Darius tucked his arm under her legs and got to his feet.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but then she cuddled against his broad chest. How could something so wrong feel so right?

Had Tahira not been raped, Darius would never have gotten this close to her.

He wished it had never happened and felt like a fucking ass for being grateful that it did.

He was falling for her—a woman he had no right to be holding in his arms, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting her.

Striding toward her bedroom on the other side of the suite from where the married couple were getting things on, Darius stopped and shut the door to his own room.

He carried Tahira into her bedroom and quietly used his foot to shut the door behind them.

When they reached her bed, he set her down on her feet.

Tahira took a step backward, her gaze never leaving his face, and her hands went to the belt of her silk robe.

He grasped her wrist. “Don’t, sweetheart. I’m hanging on by a thread here. You’re tempting enough fully clothed; I don’t need any more distractions. I’ll lay down beside you and kiss you if you want, but neither of us will be taking off anything—well, other than the slippers and shoes.”

Her radiant smile warmed him from the inside out. “If you insist.”

“I do, sweetheart.”

Pivoting, she pulled the bedspread and sheet down, kicked off her slippers, and crawled under the covers.

Darius rounded the bed and laid down beside her on top of the covers, just like he had at the hospital.

He may have himself under control, but he wasn’t a saint. He hadn’t lied—she was very tempting.

Tahira flipped onto her side, facing him. Reaching up, she stroked his jawline, which was rough with stubble. “I have not decided which look is more handsome on you—clean shaven or like this. Just please do not let it grow long again.”

“Yeah, I hate the overly scruffy look too, so you don’t have to worry about that.” He turned his head and kissed her palm. But when his gaze met hers again, he was surprised to see her lip tremble and her eyes water. “Hey, hey, what’s this? I told you not to cry over Diallo, and—”

She shook her head. “It is not him. Did—did I deserve what—what happened to me?”

“What?” He pushed her hair back from her face. “What are you talking about, sweetheart? You didn’t—”

“I mean all the flirting I did with you and my other bodyguards, knowing I—I was teasing you but none of you would do anything wrong. Was—was it karma for me doing that?”

When she started sobbing into his chest, he held her close. He didn’t know where this was coming from. He thought she’d been handling it so well—guess not. “Shit, sweetheart. Don’t ever think that. You didn’t do anything, and I mean anything, to deserve being assaulted.”

He stroked her back in silence until she seemed to calm down, her tears drying. She mumbled something into his chest, that he couldn’t understand. “What was that?”

Lifting her head, she stared at him. There was no uncertainty in her expression, only pleading. “Kiss me, please? Remind me that I am alive and still a whole woman.”

He couldn’t resist her request. Capturing her lips in his own, he tried to erase every negative thought from her mind. No rape victim deserved to think they were the reason for it happening, especially his woman.

No, she’s not yours! This is only temporary.

Tahira took Darius’s hand and brought it to her breast. All rational thought fled from his mind.

He squeezed her flesh through the material covering it, and she moaned into his mouth.

Kissing along her jaw, he rolled onto his back and pulled her with him.

“Straddle me, baby. I can make you feel good without having sex, without even taking your clothes off. You only need to tell me what you want. The power is yours alone. That is your body—you accept only what you choose to allow. If you get scared or just want to stop, tell me and I’ll hold you until you go to sleep.

Now, tell me what you want—you’re in control. ”

When she hesitated, he thought he had his answer, but then she swung her leg over his torso. He settled her on his hips, just above his erection. This wasn’t about him—this was about showing Tahira her rape didn’t define who she was now.

She stared down at him, her pupils dilated. “What ... um ... what should I do? I do not know where to start.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, Darius.”

He grinned at her matter-of-fact tone. “Then all you have to do is feel. If you want me to stop, just say the word red, like they do in the club. If you say it, I’ll stop immediately. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Good girl.”

Skimming his hands up her sides, he cupped the underside of her breasts, while watching her face for any signs of her being scared.

She was beautiful, and it wasn’t just her outward features.

The more he got to know her, the more his attraction grew.

Tahira was the type of woman who walked into a room and lit it up from within.

Women wanted to be her, and men just plain wanted her—and not because of her title.

If she were a waitress in a low-income neighborhood, she would still have the same personality and outlook on life—of that he was certain.

Darius pushed aside the lapels of her robe and brushed his thumbs over her distended, silk-covered nipples. She gasped, and her knees tightened against his hips. The corners of his mouth pulled upward. “Like that?”

“Yes, very much.”