Page 41 of Forty Days and One Knight
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.”
She hadn’t hesitated, and he knew she wasn’t just saying what she thought he wanted to hear. He thumbed her stiff buds slowly, teasingly. Her hands gripped the material of his T-shirt covering his upper abdomen before flattening again and sliding up to his chest. She found his nipples and ran her fingers over them. When he inhaled sharply, she asked, “Are they as sensitive as mine?”
God, he was going to need at least a thirty-minute cold shower after this. “They’re sensitive, but probably not as much as yours.” Proving his point, he rolled her hard peaks between his thumbs and forefingers. He grinned when her head fell back on her shoulders, thrusting her breasts out further for him. She was so responsive—he could probably make her come if she let him.
Sitting up, he cupped her ass cheeks and held her in place. His mouth closed around one of her nipples. Using his tongue, he moistened the silky material, then exhaled, long and hot.
“Oh! Darius! That—that feels so good!”
