Page 142 of The Tycoon's Affair: Tempted By Desire

Sylvie paced back and forth, her emotions vying between humiliation and anger, very aware of the dull throb and stinging between her legs. She stopped in her tracks when she thought of the excruciating pain of Arkim trying to penetrate her—his shock when he’d realised why he couldn’t.

She sat down gingerly on the side of her own bed. She’d never expected it to be that bad. Up till that moment it had been the most incandescently pleasurable experience of her life. And she’d truly thought that he wouldn’t know—that it would always be her own secret.

The tender feelings that had led Sylvie to want to soothe him in some way mocked her now. All the while she’d been thinking she was giving Arkim the supreme gift of her innocence he’d been ready to reject it outright. Evidently her lack of experience was a huge turn-off.

What she’d told Arkim wasn’t entirely true—his outright rejection of her hadn’t really prepared her for this. Or for how much it would hurt. Far more than the physical pain.

She reminded herself that she’d knowingly risked this when she’d chosen to come here. She had no one to blame but herself. It wasn’t a comfort.

Arkim was undoubtedly done with her and his little plan of retribution. He would let her go and she would never see him again.

Feeling raw and weary, Sylvie stood and picked up her bag, started to fill it with the clothes that must have been unpacked when she’d been sleeping. She couldn’t see Arkim doing such a menial task, so it hadn’t been him in her tent.

Now she felt doubly foolish.

Packing her things with more force than necessary, Sylvie didn’t hear anything until a deep and infinitely familiar voice spoke from behind her.

‘What are you doing?’

Sylvie’s entire body hummed in response. She cursed her reaction and didn’t turn around. ‘I’m leaving—what does it look like?’

‘Why?’

There was some note in Arkim’s voice that made her insides flutter dangerously but she ignored it. She steeled herself and dropped the clothes from her hands and turned around. In the dim flickering lights of the tent Arkim looked huge. He’d put a tunic on over his trousers.

‘Your reaction just now was hardly indicative of wanting us to spend more time together.’

She thought Arkim winced, but couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a trick of the light and her imagination.

Then he said, ‘I could have handled that better. Did I hurt you?’ His voice had turned gruff.

The fluttering in her belly intensified, but Sylvie pushed it down ruthlessly. ‘I’m okay.’

And she was. As soon as he’d pulled out the pain had faded and all that was left was some tenderness.

Then she said tartly, ‘You obviously weren’t prepared for me to be a virgin because all along you’ve assumed I’m some kind of a sl—’

‘Donoteven say that word.’ Arkim stepped forward, the lines in his face harsh.

The hurt was back and more painful. Why was he doing this? Bothering? Sylvie crossed her arms, wishing she’d had the foresight to change out of the robe, which felt very flimsy now.

‘Look, you don’t have to do this...apologise, or whatever it is you’re doing. I get it. Me being a virgin was not a welcome surprise, and I understand that you have no desire to be the one to initiate me.’

Arkim came closer and shook his head, a look of incredulity coming over his face. It was only now that she noticed the growth of stubble on his jaw, remembered how it had felt against her softer skin...between her thighs.

‘That’s not it at all. I didn’t handle my reaction well and I’m sorry for that. I had no right to take out my anger on you. It was just a shock when I expected—’ Arkim stopped and ran a hand through his hair and stepped back. He cursed and walked to the door of the tent.

For a heart-stopping second Sylvie thought he was leaving, and her brave façade was just about to crumble when he stopped and put his hand up over the top of the doorway.

He spoke into the inky darkness outside. ‘My mother was a virgin. My father seduced her and took her virginity from her. She didn’t even enjoy the experience. He was rough...’

Arkim turned around and Sylvie felt her heart beating too fast. She sank down onto the bed. ‘How can you know this?’

He was grim. ‘She kept a diary. It was in a box of her personal items that my father somehow miraculously kept. I read it when I was a teenager.’ His voice was rough. ‘When it became obvious you were...innocent I realised that I was doing to another woman exactly what he’d done to her.’

Sylvie shook her head and stood up again, compelled to go over to Arkim with a fierceness she’d never felt before. ‘You didn’t know... I could have explained, but I didn’t.’ She bit her lip. ‘This is going to sound really stupid, but when you told me about what had happened to you... I wanted you to be the one...’

Arkim reared back slightly. ‘You wanted to sleep with me because you felt sorry for me?’