But they did, her conscience whispered. Hadn’t her parents met and fallen and love and married all within the space of a few weeks? Hadn’t they always said that they’d known, the moment they’d laid eyes on each other, that it was meant to be and they shouldn’t waste another moment beating around the bush and following courtship rituals when they could simply begin their lives together immediately? And even Riya, whose marriage had been arranged by her family back in India, had only met her husband a handful of times before they married. When Yasmin had mentioned how archaic she felt the concept of arranged marriage was, Riya had simply smiled in contentment and told her that When you know, you just know.
Did Yasmin know? Not for certain. So, let’s look at this logically, she told herself. Despite your reasons for marrying, you’re married to a guy who is very likely every straight woman’s dream of perfection. He isn’t the overbearing jerk you heard he was. In fact, he’s nothing like that. In many ways, he’s a lot like you. Focused. Businesslike. Ready to start a family. To carry on a legacy.
Yasmin stared unseeingly at the coastline that zipped along beneath them, not liking the direction of her thoughts.
“I think we should head back now,” she said abruptly.
“She’s all yours,” came Ilya’s voice through the headset.
Yasmin took the control column in her hand and turned the plane back to the airport, completing a textbook-perfect landing and taxiing back to the hangar. She’d no sooner completed her routine of putting the Ryan to bed, as she called it, when Ilya wrapped his strong arms around her from behind and spun her around. In the next instant he was kissing her as if his life depended on it. If this was how he reacted when she took him up with her, she’d have to do it more often.
Desire for him flamed hot and fast through her veins and she gave back every bit as good as he was giving her. It was only when she realized that her hands were at his shirtfront, her fingers feverishly plucking at his buttons, that she came to her senses.
“Not here. My apartment. Upstairs.”
She grabbed his hand and tugged him out the back door to the external stairs that led to her grandfather’s old apartment. She’d made it her own after he died, not seeing the point in paying rent anywhere else. Its proximity to work couldn’t be faulted. Right now, though, proximity to a bed was uppermost in her mind as she led Ilya up the stairs. His feet hammered on the steps behind her and her blood was pumping fast when she fitted her key in the lock and pulled the door open.
The second they were inside she turned and pushed Ilya against the door, kissing him with all the hunger she’d bottled up since he’d kissed her in the hangar. They shed their clothing, leaving it in scattered heaps as they made their way to her bedroom. Seconds later, they tumbled onto her mattress in a tangle of limbs. She straddled him and their joining was fast and heated, her climax coming so quickly it shocked the air from her lungs and left her in a state of limbo between pleasure and unconsciousness before she felt Ilya shudder in completion beneath her.
His hands pulled her down to him and he rolled them onto their sides. Now he faced her with a silly grin. His breathing was about as irregular as hers and she put her hand out, flattening her palm against his bare chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart that matched her own.
“Is this where I say wow?” he asked, his voice uneven.
“Yeah, this would be a good time,” she answered, as breathless as if she’d just completed a half marathon.
“Wow.”
Yasmin laughed, the sound gurgling up from deep inside her and taking her over. Joy filled her from the soles of her feet upward. Ilya joined her, and together they lay there, laughing like a pair of idiots on her bed. Eventually she calmed, lacing her fingers through his.
“Is this what you’re always like when you relinquish control?” she laughed, squeezing his hand.
“I could get used to it,” he admitted with a rueful expression on his handsome face.
“We should do this more often,” she said. “Go flying together, I mean. Although the rest was pretty good, too.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He rolled flat onto his back. “Thank you.”
“For the sex?” she teased.
“For everything. I didn’t know how I’d feel not being the pilot in command.”
His voice trailed off, and Yasmin heard him sigh deeply.
“It wasn’t as bad as I thought,” he said on a huff of breath. “In fact, it was pretty damn incredible. You’re pretty damn incredible—and fearless.”
Yasmin felt his praise roll through her and savored it. It had been a long time since anyone had told her she’d done well.
“Thanks. I’m glad it was okay for you. I... I understand what it can be like facing your fears. But I would never say I’m fearless. I have plenty of fears—in fact, I could barely stand to put my head under water until a few years ago—but flying...no, that isn’t one of them.”
She traced little circles on his chest with a finger, enjoying the fact that they could lie here together so comfortably with no urgency to leave. She felt the vibrations of his voice when he spoke.
“Tell me about your biggest fear, then. Maybe we can get you over it, since you’ve apparently cured me of needing to be the boss all the time.”
Should she tell him? Could she? Even though they were husband and wife they essentially remained strangers to each other. Yasmin had never told another soul about that night—about her desperation to fit in and belong with the in-crowd at college. Why she’d even let it be so important to her back then still embarrassed her.
“Yasmin?” he prompted.
She drew in a deep breath, made a decision. She had nothing to fear from Ilya, did she?
“My biggest fear is not being able to see. To be blindfolded, to have all vision restricted and be led into a situation so dangerous it almost kills you—” She paused and let go a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s my greatest fear.”
* * *
Ilya stiffened beneath her touch as her words sank in. Coupled with that sense of having seen Yasmin somewhere in his past, somewhere outside of the rare times they’d run across each other at industry affairs, the mention of a blindfold and almost being killed dragged him back to a time he’d chosen to push to the back of his memories.
“Almost kills you?” he asked, seeking confirmation that she was indeed talking about the incident he thought she was.
“I guess I should tell you everything,” Yasmin said, withdrawing her hand from his.
She sat up in the bed, pulled her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, making herself seem smaller. Ilya reached up and traced his fingers down her spine, determined to ensure that she didn’t feel alone in this.
“Only tell me if you’re ready,” he coaxed gently.
“I’m ready. It’s just that I’ve never trusted anyone enough to share this before.”
“Are you worried I’ll use it against you somehow?”
“Oh, heavens, no! I—” She stopped and drew in a breath. “I just wouldn’t want you to think of me any differently, y’know? Because of what happened.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” he said cautiously.
“Fine,” she said with a broken little smile that scored at his heart. “All my life I’d worked so hard to be the best student and athlete I could be. I guess a part of that was the hope that if I proved to my parents that I was a really good kid, they might come back and we’d live as a family again. When I realized it didn’t matter what I did, they were never coming back, I constantly sought my grandfather’s approval. It took a lot to impress him.”
She laughed. It was a bitter sound that lacked any humor, and it made Ilya angry at the old man all over again. Yasmin had deserved better than that.
She continued, lost in her memories. “Because I was so d
riven, I never made close friends at school. When I wasn’t studying, I was training, when I wasn’t training, I was competing or helping Granddad out at the airfield. So when it came to fitting in at college I was determined to be just like everyone else. It’s ridiculous how hard I worked to be normal,” she said, making air quotes as she spoke the last word. “I was prepared to do anything to fit in. Anything.”
Ilya felt his skin crawl with damning inevitability as she mentioned where she’d gone to college. The same college as Jennifer. He wanted desperately to reassure her. To tell her that she was normal, that she’d always been. That it had been the others who weren’t. But doing so would be admitting to his own involvement, his own shame.
“When I tried to join the most popular sorority, the hazing was intense. The final test was held at a secluded lakeside beach after midnight. The list of challenges was extensive, and involved drinking a lot of alcohol if I did or said anything wrong. I’ve never been much of a drinker and the vodka shots hit me hard. I ended up doing things I would never have done sober but I was desperate to fit in—to be a part of something other kids my age did as a matter of course. I was already pretty drunk when they blindfolded me and told me I had to swim off the beach to a diving pontoon and then back to the beach again. Any normal day I would have done that without any trouble, but with all that alcohol in my system it didn’t end well. I nearly drowned. I failed the challenge and someone, I don’t even know who, had to pull me out of the water.
“I ended up in the hospital emergency room getting my stomach pumped and being put on IV fluids to sober me up. It was the most shameful experience of my life. I’ll never forget the lecture the ER doctor gave me. Of course I didn’t make it into the sorority and I was shunned by the girls I’d so pathetically wanted to be my friends. It was a tough lesson but I took it on the chin. I transferred back home and finished my degree at Cal State and carried on with my life. But it left its scars, you know? I conquered the fear of swimming that it gave me, but I still can’t bear to have my eyes covered or lose my eyesight in any way. It totally freaks me out.”
He could well believe it.
“And you’ve never told anyone? You didn’t report it to the college administration?”
He already knew the answer, but he didn’t understand why she’d chosen not to report the people involved.
“How could I? I chose to participate and I did some pretty disgusting things, again by choice. I could have walked away, given up at any time like a few other girls did when the challenges started getting too bizarre. Some of the kids there took photos that night.” Her voice caught on a hitch. “I was warned that if I said anything, those pictures might come out. I couldn’t have borne that. It was easier to leave than to be judged for what I’d done.”
How on earth could she feel as if she would be judged for what happened that night? She’d been the victim and then blackmailed into the bargain. As if all of that hadn’t been bad enough, his then-fiancée had been the bully behind it all.
He couldn’t believe that Yasmin was the one he’d pulled from the water that night. Looking at her now, it was difficult to reconcile the slender, blond and competent woman he was getting to know with the broken girl he’d hauled out. She’d been considerably plumper then, her hair long and much darker—more a shade of brown than the blond it was now. She looked completely different now, unrecognizable. He’d never heard her name spoken that night or known who she was. He’d only known she was in trouble and needed rescuing. So he’d saved her.
At the time Jennifer had begged him not to call the authorities. She’d promised that the girl would be looked after and convinced him that what had happened was simply a silly prank that had gotten out of hand—that there was nothing malicious in it.
Saying nothing had gone against everything he’d ever been taught about right and wrong and he’d been furious with Jen. But she was his fiancée. He’d loved her. He planned to have a life together with her. He had to believe her, trust in her, didn’t he? And he had, right up until the moment a few days later when he’d overheard Jen boasting about the hazing and laughing about how he’d spoiled her fun. That had been the moment his eyes had opened and he’d realized that his friends, who’d said early on in their relationship that she was using him, were right about her. He could never spend the rest of his life with a woman as callous and as cruel as that.
He’d been a fool and, at that point, the person he had lost most faith in was himself.
Looking at Yasmin through new eyes, he realized he wanted to save her now, too. Save her from the dreadful guilt she still carried for her part in that night.
He was desperate to reassure Yasmin, but for the first time in his life words completely failed him. How could he tell her he had been there that night, though not until after she’d entered the water? How could he tell her how he’d been linked to the woman who’d put her through hell? Whose actions, even now, continued to have an impact on Yasmin’s life?
At the same time, he was in shock himself. His wife was the woman he’d rescued from the water that truly awful night. Was it some crazy coincidence or had his grandmother somehow known about the incident? She’d orchestrated their union. Was this some twisted idea of hers, pairing him and Yasmin now? It wouldn’t surprise him. She’d always had an uncanny instinct when it came to others and when he’d returned home to tell her in person about his broken engagement she hadn’t pressed him for details. She’d only offered her sympathy and told him that she trusted he would always do the right thing. He itched to grill her on the subject now, but that would have to be a discussion for another time. Right now, he had to reassure Yasmin that she had done nothing wrong. Her fear was a direct result of what others had done to her that night and she herself was not responsible.
If he’d acted then as he should have, and reported the whole sorry situation to the college, it would have been handled appropriately. And Yasmin wouldn’t have had to bear the guilt she continued to carry to this very day. It was too late now. He couldn’t undo the past. But he could help Yasmin in the future.
He’d told himself he was committed to their marriage—now he had to prove he was committed to her.
Eleven
He owed it to Yasmin, he told himself. If he couldn’t or wouldn’t take that chance, then he had no business being married to her at all. And right now, her openness, her honesty, deserved a response. He pushed himself upright and gathered her in his arms, pulling her body to his and offering her comfort. Too little too late, he realized, as he chose his words carefully. But he had to start somewhere.
“You’re being too hard on yourself. From what you’ve told me, it’s clear you were never to blame. Not for any of it.”
She shook her head and he put his hands on either side of her face, tilting it up to look her in the eye.
“Trust me, Yasmin. I know what I’m talking about. You put your faith in the wrong people, that’s all. What came next was out of your control.”
Tears shone in her eyes and a spear of guilt shafted through him. He hated that this strong, proud woman was still so wounded by that night. Somehow, he had to make it right. Had to restore her to her full strength and heal the pain her experience had left behind.
“You’re not to blame,” he said emphatically.
Her lower lip trembled and one tear formed a silvery trail down her cheek. He’d never been able to cope with a woman’s tears and seeing his proud wife crumble like this was absolutely his undoing. He captured her lips with his and tried to imbue that kiss with all of his admiration for her. For her courage, for her talent as a pilot, for her determination to put the past behind her and to stride forward with the life she’d chosen. When they broke apart he stared straight into her eyes. Her pupils were dilated with the desire that burned like an eternal flame between them.
“You’re not to blame,” he repeated.
He made love
to her then. Slowly, intensely. Taking his time to explore her body, to discover every hidden pleasure point, to learn and imprint her in his mind, to make her understand just how much he admired her, how much he wanted her. He renewed his fascination with the silky texture of her skin, the essential flavor of her. And when he entered her he felt a stronger connection to her than before. A connection that thrilled and terrified him in equal proportions. When they reached the pinnacle of satisfaction, they did so together, tumbling into the abyss of pleasure and satiation with a joy that took his breath away.
She dozed in the aftermath, securely nestled against him. But Ilya couldn’t rest. His mind twisted and churned over the facts. Over his involvement. She deserved to know it all. She blamed herself for everything but his judgment had also been lacking—after all, hadn’t he believed himself in love with Jen? Believed her when she’d said things had gotten out of control when what happened had been part of her plan for Yasmin all along? He should have known better.
He didn’t want secrets between Yasmin and himself, but how could he tell her without destroying the fragile beauty of their growing closeness? These past two weeks had been an exercise in learning about one another, about developing trust. Would telling her shatter all of that? She’d been so brave telling him about what had happened, he feared disclosing his involvement with her nemesis would crush any chance they had of continuing to build this marriage of theirs.
He pulled her more firmly against him, breathing in her subtle fragrance and relishing the sensation of her bare skin against his. Savoring the trust she’d imbued in him with her words today. He owed it to her to tell her and he would, eventually, but the timing had to be right. He had to be sure that in doing so he wouldn’t push her away from him forever. And, in the meantime, he’d do his best to show her every single day how important she had become to him.
Tangled Vows (Marriage At First Sight Book 1) Page 9
