The Chatsfield: Series 2. Кейт Хьюит
Читать онлайн книгу.
had fantasies about going to that party, and saying all of that stuff to him. And in those fantasies I’m an entirely different person. That’s my entire life. Working to become something other than what I was born into. To become the thing that I thought I deserved to be. But that had nothing to do with who I actually am. I’ve been afraid of exposing who I am, because I’ve always thought that person might be looked at and found wanting. Because if somebody doesn’t like your facade, then you can change it. But if someone doesn’t like you...that’s much more difficult. I think what I was avoiding was being naked in that sense.”
A metallic flavor filled her mouth, something she recognized as panic. Because this was the most terrifying moment of her entire life. The most frightening thing she had ever admitted. That with him she was real, that she was desperately afraid of being found wanting. This was honesty, and it was easy for her to see why she had avoided honesty in the past.
Zayn didn’t speak, instead he reached for his glass and took another drink.
Silence filled the room expanding like a living thing, building upon the fear that was pressing on her chest.
He set the glass back down on the table, the click on the hard surface nearly deafening.
“And have you been naked with me?”
It was the question she feared the most, and yet she knew she had no choice but to answer it honestly.
“Yes.”
“Have I seen you?”
“Yes.” She looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “Have I seen you, Zayn?”
He spread his hands. “I’m not certain what you mean by that. Of course you have seen me.”
“I’ve seen the ruler. I have seen the sheikh. But have I seen the man?” She thought of him, trembling above her as he found his release, the intensity that had passed between them. She felt as though she had seen glimpses of the man, like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. But a shaft of light shining briefly through the darkness did not make for a clear day.
“The sheikh is the man, the man is the sheikh, et cetera.”
“If there were no kingdoms, if there were no kings, who would you be?” she asked, her voice rough as she echoed the words he had spoken to her when he’d held her in his arms.
“It is a question that cannot be answered. For the fact remains that there are kingdoms. And I am the king of one of them. And I must do the right thing by my people.”
“And why is this the right thing? Why is marrying a woman you don’t love the best thing for your people?”
“The preparations are in full effect. I have given my word. Going back on that could be nothing but detrimental. Leila is... My sister is going through something. I can’t talk about it. It is not my secret. I failed one sister, Sophie. I failed to protect Jasmine. I will not fail on that level, not again. I have hurt too many people to ever risk it again.”
She could sense the desperation in his tone, read the urgency that ran beneath his words. And she could hear things that were not spoken.
“You are the strongest man I have ever met. You give more of yourself with every breath than I will ever be able to give in my entire life. I have spent years consumed with the idea of showing up some man who barely even cares that I exist. How is that even a life? What have I ever done for anyone?”
“You are here because of a friend, Sophie. Don’t think I have forgotten that. I don’t have a scandal for you. Not the one you were looking for.”
“It isn’t about that now. I’ll help Isabelle how I can. But I realize you don’t really know anything about the Chatsfields.” She had realized it for a while now, and she could barely bring herself to be angry about it. Because she had been doing something for a person she loved, and he’d been doing the same. But things were different now, now that she understood him.
Now that he had seen her naked.
“What is it about?” His voice was rough, frayed.
“Right now it just feels like it’s about you and me. It feels like...it feels like something I’ve never experienced before. I feel like a person I’ve never been brave enough to be before.”
“We needed to leave this in the desert.” He sounded tortured now, angry almost, but also desperate. And it was that desperation that she clung to. “We cannot do this here.”
“Please, just for one more night. Please be the man. Because the man is not the king. I want to see the man.”
“Sophie,” he said, his voice a growl now, “you don’t know what you’re asking. The man is better off dead and buried. He is nothing. He is selfish, destructive. He brought death upon his house. And he deserves to remain locked down so deep that he cannot breathe, much less move, much less resurface and destroy anything else.”
“No, I don’t believe that’s true. Because I think the man is wonderful.”
He rose, fire blazing in his eyes as he closed the distance between them. He reached down, wrapping his hand around her arm, tugging her up to her feet. “You are a fool.”
Perhaps she was, perhaps she was seeing things that didn’t exist. Or perhaps she was the only one who saw the truth. Perhaps she simply needed to make him see.
She rose up on her tiptoes, and leaned in, brushing her lips against his. The spark that burned between them quickly ignited, raging out of control the moment they made contact with each other. He tightened his hold on her, wrapping his other arm around her waist and pulling her firmly against him, crushing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest.
She tilted her head, deepening their kiss, her heart pounding out of control. She wanted to do for him what he had done for her, wanted to strip away the layers, strip away the obligation, every outside influence that had managed to wrap itself around him and reveal who he really was beneath it all.
No matter what he said, she knew that he was hiding himself. She knew she had to find him.
Because he had found her. And how could she offer him anything less?
She pulled at his shirt, desperate to have his skin against hers. Desperate to find that moment of clarity she had felt out in the desert. That moment of connection. So perfect, so unlike anything she had ever experienced before. He growled, and deepened the kiss, pushing her back against the wall, her back hitting hard against the stone surface. But she didn’t care. It didn’t hurt, on the contrary it felt wonderful. To have the intensity that burned inside of her matched in their movements on the outside.
He pulled her shirt over her head, giving himself over to this completely. There was no restraint in him, not now, and it was absolutely perfect. Everything she wanted, everything she needed. She wanted to release the man that he wanted to keep contained. Wanted to set him free.
And she damn well would.
She put her hands on his belt, working the leather through the brass buckle, then moving to the closure of his pants. She pushed them down his lean hips, taking his underwear with them, not even remotely shocked at her boldness. She would have been, only days ago. But not now. She had left her fear behind.
She had left her protection behind, too, and she was revealing herself. Now.
She lowered herself slowly to her knees, wrapping her hand around his hardened length, squeezing him gently. His breath hissed through his teeth, his head falling back, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She could tell he was on the edge, could tell that she was close to accomplishing her goal. Because while she might be the one in the submissive position, he was the one who was at her mercy. On her knees before the king, she was about to bring him to his.
She leaned in, flicking her tongue over the head of his erection. She had no preconceived ideas about this act, she had never given it much thought. Yes, the subject had come up in groups of friends at university. But she had often tuned