“You’re going to have to prove yourself.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. But I think that’s what it’s going to take.”
“Should I throw myself in front of him and beg him to marry me?”
Cleo winced. “That wouldn’t be my first choice. I suspect any kind of romantic declaration would make him uneasy.”
“I agree.” Which was why she’d never even whispered her feelings. Keeping that to herself had been hard. Every time they made love, she wanted to tell him how she felt. Each evening as they dined together, she wanted to speak about her hopes and dreams and hear him respond in kind. Talk about a fantasy.
“There’s a good chance this isn’t going to end well,” Cleo said. “How are you going to deal with that?”
“He’ll break my heart,” Zara said, knowing it was inevitable. “I love him. I believe I’ve been waiting for him all my life. I can’t imagine a world without him.”
“You’ve got it bad.”
“I know. But I’d rather have it bad for him than have it so-what with anyone else.”
“That’s insane,” her sister told her, but Zara heard the love in her voice. “Call me in a couple of days and let me know what’s going on.”
“I will, I promise. Wish me luck.”
“Honey, you’re going to need a whole lot more than that. You’re going to need a miracle.”
Rafe knew he was playing with fire. He could read the truth in Zara’s eyes. So far she hadn’t declared herself, but it was just a matter of time until she did. And then what?
What was he supposed to say? That he didn’t believe her? That he didn’t do happily ever after? He’d trapped himself in a living hell. He couldn’t have her because he would never allow himself to love her, but he also couldn’t let her go. Knowing that she was with someone else would destroy him.
All the tactical training in the world hadn’t prepared him for this situation. He’d known the risk to her when he’d taken her into his bed, and he’d done it, anyway. What he hadn’t counted on was the risk to himself.
Zara kissed Rafe’s mouth. Her body still hummed from the pleasure he’d brought her. She ran her foot up and down his bare leg, smiling at the feel of him.
“You’re getting good at this,” she teased.
He shifted her onto her back and bent over her. “You think? I could say the same about you, but you were good from the start.”
She giggled. “I know. You left out patient. How patient I was with your fumbling.”
“Very patient,” he murmured before leaning down and licking her right nipple. “Incredibly patient. I should reward you.”
Despite the fact that they’d finished making love less than five minutes before, Zara felt her body stir. Just being close to Rafe was enough to get her all hot and bothered.
It was a perfect afternoon, she thought lazily. The overhead fan stirred the warm air. The big bed was comfortable, the sheets cool and the man beside her, touching her, was all she’d ever longed for.
I love you.
She thought the words, breathed them in her sigh, but did not dare speak them. Because she was afraid.
But fear had no place in their bed, so she concentrated on what he was doing to her body and thoughts of equally delicious ways she could pleasure him. Maybe, if she shimmied out of his embrace, she could slip down and take him in her mouth. He always melted when she did that…well, except for the part of him that stayed extremely rigid and got even harder. Or she could—
An odd sound cut through the quiet afternoon. Rafe raised his head, then swore. Zara strained to make sense of the growing noise.
“Helicopter,” Rafe told her as he slid out of bed and reached for his clothes. “Probably Hassan.”
It took a couple of seconds for her to assimilate his words. Hassan? She sat up straight. “My father?”
“I guess he got tired of waiting.”
The sound was now loud enough for her to recognize it for a helicopter. The change in pitch told her that it was about to land on the pad only a few dozen feet from the house. Then her father would climb out and walk this way and—