“Thank you,” she breathed.
Naked and in the moonlight, Roshan Ahsani proved to be a hedonistic, sensual, visual feast. Naked in the winter sunlight, he made her want to start laughing. Again. There had to be synapses disconnected in her brain. She’d slept with the man. How did she still want to giggle looking at him?
He took the glass from her hand. “Better?”
“Sorry,” she apologised again, lifting her knees to her chest under the sheets and hooking her arms around her legs.
“Don’t be silly,” he chided. “It’s not your fault. I must have been comfortable to change mid-sleep.”
Face hot with pleasure, she wrapped her arms tighter around her legs. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should. Now that I haven’t sent you into anaphylactic shock, can I bring you something to eat?”
Was he really going to let her get crumbs all over his one-thousand-thread-count sheets? “Coffee and toast?”
“Is that a question, or that’s what you want?”
“I’d love some coffee and toast, please.”
He tilted his head to her, a smile curving his firm lips. Leaning forward, he cupped her face and brushed his lips over hers. “Good morning, by the way.”
“’Lo.” She fought to keep the giggling under control, and barely after he closed the bedroom door she was stifling her laughter in the folds of the duvet. “He’s so ridiculous.”
In a few minutes, he returned with a glass tray, loaded with triangles of toast, little pots of jam, a cafetiere and two espresso mugs. He held it with one hand, to nudge her legs straight with the other, before he tucked the tray on her lap. She watched him pour her a coffee, adding plenty of milk, just as she preferred. “What would you like on your toast?”
It was far too early in the morning to say what she really wanted and deferred to strawberry jam instead. Every so often, his spidery lashes would lift and his near-black eyes connected with hers. A knowing smile lifted his lips as he helped himself to coffee and caught her hand to take a bite of her toast. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and lost any sensibility when he reached out to brush the corner of her mouth with his thumb.
“Someone’s still a messy eater.”
Did he have amnesia? He’d already seduced her. Oh, no, wait. She did that. Instead of answering him, she concentrated on her coffee.
“You’ve got options today, if you don’t have to work,” he spoke into the silence. Neiri risked looking up and deemed it safe.
“Work? No, not today.” Goodness, how would she even be able to waddle in the direction of the clinic? Besides, it was all too likely she’d end up having a sex flashback and drilling a hole in a patient’s gum. She shouldn’t add negligence to her problems.
“Good. So, I need to go out, collect some things to ensure we can stay here in comfortable isolation for a few days at least.”
It sounded blissful. His home made the cold of December seem a million miles away. “Option one?”
“You stay here. Re-enact the conception of Horus.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “Can you detach your penis for me to masturbate with?”
His grin turned devilish. “I could have a replica made for you. In any case, option two… You come with me.”
What? Go outside? She put the tray to one side and snuggled closer to Roshan, draping an arm over his still-nude lap to trace her mouth over his jaw line. The bristles of his stubble prickled her lips… deliciously so. “Don’t you have a man who does that for you? Brings you everything you need?”
Roshan sighed, the sound rumbling against her like a cat in mid purr. “Some things one must collect in person.” Disappointingly, he untangled himself from her arms and stood, collecting the tray from the bed. “We’re going out.”
“Aww! Why?” She folded her arms. “It’s flipping freezing.”
He glared at her. “You’re not staying here by yourself.”
“I thought I had options.”
“I changed my mind on further consideration. It’s not conducive to my mental health.” He gestured to her with a hand. “Come on.”
She dramatically threw the sheets aside. “If you insist. Such beastly behaviour.”
Her eyes flicked to his face. His eyes were closed and his hands were on his bare hips. “Can you please,” he begged, “stop that?”
“You’re a little over sensitive in the morning,” she teased. “I’m going to get ready in my flat. Because I have clothes there,” she reminded him.
“See you in an hour.”
“What? I won’t…”
“An hour is fine. I’ll walk you down.”
She picked up her still-cold dress from the end of the bed and dived into it. “It’s best for both of us if I get public-proofed alone.”
He gazed at her for a still moment. “One hour.”
“See, by Christmas Day, you’ll want an hour to yourself?”
Devilish amusement curled his lips. “Why? When I’ll have all the time to play with you?”
Neiri let out a nervous giggle. “Okay, and I’m off.” She took a step towards him, fully intending to touch him, but she caught the predatory look in his eyes and doubled back. “Okay, no. Bye.” She took off at a run out of his apartment/palace and as soon as she reached the corridor to her own flat, she burst into a rousing chorus of Jingle Bells. “On a one tiger open sleigh, hey!” She opened her door with a flourish. Maybe coffee and antihistamines didn’t mix. She read through her emails quickly, noting the most important one from her solicitor, saying the consent agreement had been approved by the judge and sent to the banks to release her funds. The next one confirmed her accounts were free from the freezing order and she could spend, spend, spend. Guilt made her look at flights to Egypt. The prices made her feel physically ill. Then again, it wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford it. Hmm. Fly to Sharm el-Sheikh or stay in the wintry paradise of the tiger-man? Easy. Option A would involve parental pressure. Option B meant endless orgasms and great food. And a little adoration. Good attention. The type she’d been seriously lacking for years. She deserved a little good attention. She was awesome.
Dressing in an owl-print jumper and a woollen skirt that was a little on the tight side, she pulled her bag together with her still-damp phone that didn’t work so well anymore. At least she had her contacts. Calling her mother at some point would be a necessity. Would Roshan let her out of his bed long enough to get a charger? Probably not. She threw one into her bag and finished her make up with a little kohl on her eyeline, accentuating the feline shape before she tugged on her over-the-knee suede boots. It occurred to Neiri that she had no idea where they were going to obtain all these hidden treasures that would see them hibernating through the bank holiday. Wherever they went, she really hoped she could buy Roshan an appropriate thank you gift. As good as he was in the bedroom department, a little extra wouldn’t go amiss.
Chapter Seven
Neiri had no idea what Roshan bought at the Burlington Arcade. She’d been told to stay in the chauffeur driven car and he’d disappeared. After ten minutes, he returned with a glossy bag with the name Dairaku embossed on both sides. “What’s…?”
He tapped her on the nose. “No. Now. For food.”
Leaving the bag to one side, he caught her hand and pulled her out of the car for them to walk to Fortnum and Mason. Behind them, four sleek men followed and as soon as they entered the store, they collected baskets and began filling them once Roshan made his elegant requests in Farsi. Neiri’s word was law. If she asked for something, four packets, tins, jars were placed inside. They were separated into various pastel green bags and carried out to the car for them. The car then took off to Selfridges where the same thing happened, much to Neiri’s confusion. “Extravagant Arab,” she murmured.
Roshan grinned. “I want your first stress-free Christmas to be spectacular.”
“Thank you,” she muttered, emotion hitching her voice. She cleared her throat. “You may w
ant to get my Christmas tree in your palace, then.”
He kissed her temple and said to the four horsemen of the food pilgrimage, “One to the Royal Marsden and one to Great Ormond Street. The rest to the nearest Salvation Army.” Huge, overflowing trolleys were wheeled out of her sight as Roshan tapped in his PIN. Charity hadn’t crossed her mind once. She’d been wrapped up in her own misery and, for the majority of the last twenty-four hours, what Roshan Ahsani looked like without clothes on.
He looked up from the bill and smiled at her expression. “Don’t worry. It’s from both of us,” he assured her, tucking his credit card away. Wrapping a hefty arm around her shoulders, he continued. “You’ve been very nice to me, so I can afford to be generous.”
“Do you ever turn off the flatter button?” she asked, in all seriousness.
“When my head’s between your thighs. I believe then my mouth is too full.” She lifted his arm from her shoulders and walked in the opposite direction. Nope. Not dealing with the weird looks from shoppers with inhuman hearing.
“What did I say?” he teased, catching up with her and resting his arm back around her shoulders.
“I’m not getting you a present now.”
She glared at him, ignoring the confused look on his face. “You don’t need to buy me anything.”
“Maybe if I buy you something, I won’t be obliged to have my mouth full.”
“Oh, Neiri,” he whispered, his warm palm drifting over the back of her neck. She shuddered when the rough skin traced over the marks he’d left there with his teeth. “I didn’t see any duty or obligation in your eyes when you elected, without any prompt from me, to investigate my dick with your lips. Several times, I recall. Did you mean accommodating? Because you have a very accommodating mouth…”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You’re so funny. And yet, more coherent when I’m inside you.”
She sighed. For patience. For calm. And for her body to give her a five-second break. “I’m buying you a present.”
His hand slipped from her neck, along her spine to the waistband of her skirt. Without even pausing to look around, he slipped his hand inside the skirt, under her tights and inside her underwear. “All the gift I need is right here.” Her whole body sparked, with awareness, with shock but mostly with an instantaneous desire that was wholly reserved for Roshan. Every person in the shop faded into the background. Roshan had his hands inside her underwear and in that minute, he owned her. “This present,” he growled in her ear, as his middle finger skimmed between the wet lips of her sex, “will provide me more satisfaction than anything you could possibly buy here.”
Briskly, he removed his hand only to trace his damp, fragrant finger around her mouth. Instantly, she licked her lips, tasting the sweetness of her own cream and the salt of his skin. Eyes dark with lust, he held her complete attention when he told her firmly, “You still don’t owe me anything. Not even precious time with that accommodating mouth of yours.”
She caught his hand and pressed it to her chest. “That was lovely and entirely distracting but I need to say this. My freezing order has been lifted. And after everything, I need the first thing I buy to mean something. Does that make sense? It has to mean something. And it can’t be for myself. So you have to let me buy you something. A present. All right? Please.”
He cupped the back of her head and pulled her against his body. “All right. Since you asked so nicely.”
Beaming with victory, she pushed him away. “Marvellous. How about you get out so I can get buying?”
Roshan frowned at her. “There are ways of being nice to me.”
“Completely out of character for me,” she assured him. “Off you go, Tony the Tiger.”
He made a sound of disapproval in his throat, before prowling out of the store. Better buy something before she was banned for inappropriate conduct on their premises. Quickly, she found what she’d planned. A waterproof watch for her water-loving tiger. She hoped there was enough give for the bracelet to encircle a huge paw. She returned to the car and immediately had to slap his wandering hand from the yellow bag. “No peeking.”
“I can’t even look?”
She tugged down the collar of her jumper, allowing a view of her lace-covered breasts. “There. That’s a peek for you.”
He lowered his head and brushed a kiss over her cleavage. “Much,” he murmured, “much better.”
Chapter Eight
Roshan had been perfectly content to be alone, especially over the nonsensically expensive holiday, but with Neiri in his kitchen and Christmas carols playing on his system, he was rather pleased with himself. He’d already brought her huge tree from her flat and set it up in the living space. Red, green and white lights twinkled in his candle-bright living room, sparkling through the crystal decorations that hung delicately on every fresh pine branch. Neiri took herself to the kitchen once she’d affirmed that each decoration was set right and the tree was positioned correctly. She said she wanted to cook. She said cook. He said open packets of food and put them in the oven.
“There’s a skill to it,” she argued, pricking the plastic sleeve of a tray of prawns. “And I like nibbles.”
He sent her an appreciative glance. “Yes, you do.”
Neiri frowned at him, then placed a glass of lemon water in front of him. “Where did you even come from? Apart from supposedly answering my prayer.”
Roshan stifled his laughter. His Neiri didn’t hold back. “I’m a white Bengal tiger, if that’s what you’re asking. My mother is from Bangladesh and my father is Iranian. They’re both tigers. My father has an insane amount of shares in several oil companies, so we have a little bit of money. I was living in Qatar and had been meditating quietly in the family temple just off the Sundarban mangrove forest when I heard you.” If he closed his eyes, he could see the river, drifting past verdant trees, and the lyrical voice of Neiriouri, beckoning him to protect her… He took a sip of his drink, finding his train of thought once more. “I speak Bengali, Farsi, Arabic, tiger grunts and I’m getting to learn all your little sounds.”
She grinned. “Thank you. Isn’t it weird? Waking up one day with paws and hands the next?”
“Never known anything different for it to be anything less than completely normal. I admit, it’s not like my father was around much to help me understand any… erm, unusual developments. But he’s more of a loner than I am. Didn’t see him for years at a time growing up. My mother did all the rearing. And she’s more invested in my fertility than I suspect yours is.”
“You realise how… Freudian that sounds?”
Roshan shrugged. “Well, we have inbreeding issues.”
She made a face of disgust. “Eww. Is that why you’re a white tiger? Inbreeding?”
“No, no, no! Luck would have it my father sniffed out the gene in my mother. He wanted a cub with white fur and got one. Then buggered off to make more somewhere else, I suppose.”
Neiri blinked at him. “That’s it? That’s the sum of your parents’ relationship?”
He shrugged. “Pretty much. What about you?”
“Oh, arranged marriage.” His head snapped up. “Oh no, my parents, not me. Although they did have a hand in introducing me to my ex.”
“Are they disappointed their plans didn’t meet fruition?”
“Hmm. But it’s my fault, really. I didn’t do the appropriately wifely thing and submit.” He knew what she meant, but immediately he had the stark impression of Neiri on her knees. “My dad hasn’t really spoken to me since I told my parents I was getting divorced. It’s not like we were that close. My mother and brothers came to London before I was born. I’m the only proper Londoner out of the five of us. Dad stayed in Egypt to work.” She sent him a sad little smile. “I understand. Even though every month my dad offered to kill my ex-husband, I knew it was to make up for not being around. But I didn’t want him to turn around and say he had to clean up my mess.”
“Then what would
he make of me?”
Neiri reared up from the tray of prawns. “Are you planning on introducing yourself?”
“I’m planning on being around for a while,” he said, edging around the question.
“How long is a while?”
“Long enough. Well?”
She perched a hand on her hip. “I suppose you’d be all right with him for a number of reasons. You’re apparently a good Arab boy, as far as appearances go, you’re successful and you don’t seem to be put off by the fact that I’m a ruined woman.”
Roshan’s eyebrows furled. “He can’t think that.”
She shoved the tray of prawns into the oven. “Believe me, that’s the PG version of what I’ve been told I am.” She added a tray of tartlets and falafel. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Would he be more amenable if you gave him grandchildren? They are a good distraction.”
Neiri whipped around, eyes as round as coins. “I keep telling you, I can’t. Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”
“And I keep telling you, you can. You’re not listening.”
“I thought you were a loner,” she said, sounding increasingly desperate. “Loners don’t want little needy things around.”
Roshan simply took another sip of his water. “You’re always alone until you meet the right person.”
“Oh.” She tucked her hands behind her back. “Oh. That’s a lovely thing to say.” He saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes and got to his feet.
“Come on.” He held out his hand to her and pulled her away from the oven to set the timer. “The food will take about a half hour. Come and sit with me for a bit.”
Not giving her the chance to refuse, he nudged her into the living space. Moonlight spotlighted the whole room, even overpowering the fairy lights on the tree. Roshan sat her down, then wrapped a large, cashmere throw around the both of them. Neiri tucked herself closer and he tightened his arms around her. He’d always thought of Christmas as entirely overrated. With Neiri quiet in his arms, he understood it. Finally.
Nights of Roshan Page 4
