"Oh, I was just thinking about some of the recent designs on the catwalks." She waved airily and put down the brush, then picked up the lipstick. Curving her lips into a softer-than-normal pout, she began to smooth on the pale bronze with deliberate slowness. It was more of a gloss, which left her lips looking wet and full, rather than a rich hue. She knew her husband preferred to kiss her lips devoid of lipstick, and tonight was about her husband. By the time they got through dinner, the gloss would be gone, but she hoped that by then she wouldn't need its seductive qualities. Right now, the glistening sheen looked like a brazen invitation.

  Tariq coughed and shifted behind her, but didn't move away. Jasmine took that as a good sign, but wondered how far she could go. She didn't want him to guess her plan before she had him safely in bed and at her mercy. She grinned.

  "What is so funny?" His voice was rough. She recognized that timbre. Anticipatory heat blossomed in the pit of her stomach. Her heart's beat turned ragged and needy.

  "Homosexual male designers and their ideas about the female body," she stated with a decisive nod, proud of herself for being able to keep her head while her hormones were in full riot mode. "I mean, look." She swept her hand over the curves of her breast and hip, lingering just a millisecond too long. "As we discussed before, women are rounded, right?"

  "Yes." He sounded as if he was strangling.

  "Then why—" she spread her hand on her bared thigh, drawing his attention to the way the fiery curls at the apex of her thighs were barely covered by the blue satin "—are the latest trends going toward boxes and flat, jagged edges?"

  When he didn't reply, she looked up into the mirror. Before he met her eyes, she gleefully noted the flush along his cheekbones and the heavy-lidded gaze on her thigh. She thought he'd forgotten what they'd been talking about. Wonderful.

  "I am sure you are correct in your view," he said at last.

  Nodding in vigorous agreement, she returned to her makeup, aware that he was watching her in the mirror. Keeping a straight face was difficult, but her need to make him feel the same sensual hunger as her gave her the strength. She took her time finishing her makeup and then stood up and crossed to the wardrobe. To her pleased surprise, Tariq lay down on the bed to wait, his arms crossed behind his head. He reminded her of a lazy panther, all liquid muscle and barely contained strength.

  Her scowl only surfaced once she was inside the closet. How was she supposed to seduce him with artless ease if he couldn't see her? The bed was placed parallel to the dresser and faced away from the closet behind it. That meant Tariq's eyes were on the bedroom door and she was behind the headboard. Frowning, she pulled an almost-sheer blue skirt off its hanger. The two thin layers of chiffon were just opaque enough for decency, and she'd never before worn the skirt, but today, it was war.

  The matching top had tiny cap sleeves trimmed with fine silver braid, and was cut to fit snugly under her breasts, leaving her abdomen bare. She didn't bother to grab a bra because the top was tight enough, and every time she bent forward, the scoop neck would hint at that revealing fact. Walking out of the closet, she put her clothes down on a nearby chair. She almost shimmied into them in haste, before she suddenly understood exactly how sneaky Tariq was.

  Far from not being able to see her, her husband had a perfect view of her in the mirror. Her hands went to the knot of her robe. She heard Tariq shift on her bed, and out of nowhere, a belated wave of nervousness hit her. Playing with him was one thing, but could she actually do a striptease?

  Before she lost her courage, she undid the robe and shrugged it off. When she leaned forward to throw it across the top of the chair, she thought she heard Tariq's breath hitch. Her own wasn't too steady, but she kept going. She picked up her panties and forced herself to speak.

  "Where are we having dinner?" Jasmine slid on the fragile creation of lace and satin, smoothing it over her bottom with fingers that trembled. She snatched them away before he could notice in the mirror, and grabbed the skirt.

  Instead of dropping it over her head, she bent over to step into it. She could imagine the picture she presented, and it was making her blush. She hoped the dimness of the light near the closet concealed that betraying fact.

  "I had thought the main dining room with Hiraz and Mumtaz, but I've changed my mind. We'll eat in our private dining area." Jasmine didn't miss the possessive edge in his voice. She hadn't heard it for two weeks. At one time, she'd believed it meant he thought of her as an object. She was beginning to understand that Tariq would always be possessive about his woman, even if he loved her. He was simply that kind of man. His possessiveness and protectiveness were traits that she could get used to, she decided. In fact, they made her feel almost cherished.

  "Hmm." She buttoned her skirt at the side, picked up the top and turned a little so that her breasts were displayed to him, though her face remained in shadow. She decided that she deserved a medal for bravery. Who would have believed that shy, quiet Jasmine would be trying to entice her virile, sexy husband with such an audacious exhibition? Certainly not her.

  The top buttoned down the front, so she slipped it on and then did up the row of five tiny buttons made of white crystal. It was unexpectedly tight across her breasts, which surprised her. However, when she looked down, the line of buttons wasn't distorted, so it appeared that the design required that final snug fit.

  Finally, she stepped into a pair of Arabian sandals that she could easily shuck off. Their private dining area was in essence a room full of huge cushions.

  "Almost finished." She was thankful that the breathy quality in her voice wasn't too evident.

  "There's no hurry." He sounded at ease.

  Jasmine wondered if she was mistaken and he hadn't been watching. Walking over to stand beside the bed, she put her hands on her hips and twirled around.

  "What do you think?"

  He unobtrusively bent his leg at the knee, but wasn't quick enough to hide the arousal straining against the material of his pants. She swallowed a sigh of relief.

  "Perfect." His mild tone didn't fool her.

  "Hmm, but I think I need some jewelry."

  The stroll to her dresser took every ounce of nonchalance she possessed. She didn't even glance in the mirror to check her appearance, not wishing to meet Tariq's eyes and give herself away by accident. From inside the built-in jewelry drawer, she pulled out the fine gold chains that she'd looped over her hips on her wedding day, and put them on. Then she clasped a necklace around her neck. It was pretty but unremarkable, except for the fact that the long spherical Zulheil Rose pendant fell between the globes of her breasts.

  "Come on, lazybones, I'm starving." She beckoned to him and pushed through the connecting door to his room. She could have reached the dining room through the corridor, but she couldn't resist the temptation of leading him past the huge double bed. The one in her room had never been used, except for the week that he'd been in Paris.

  She heard him mutter, "Me, too," as he rose from the bed. His tone was distinctly bad tempered. She smiled. A starving panther was more to her liking than one attempting to play at being a pussycat.

  Her hand was on the knob of the door that led into the dining area when Tariq gripped her waist. Burning heat sizzled through her nerve endings where his hands touched bare skin. His big body pressed her against the door.

  "You will wait here while the servants finish."

  "It's okay, I don't mind helping them."

  His fingers tightened on her skin. "You will wait here." Spinning her around, he sealed her next protest with a hard kiss. Giving her a warning glance, he opened the door. It shut with a click behind him.

  Jasmine lifted her hands to her tingling lips. He hadn't kissed her like that for weeks. She leaned against the wall because her knees felt as if they'd crumple at any moment. The imprint of his hands on her waist was a living touch that continued to burn her skin.

  "I guess I can put up with the arrogance this once," she said out loud, a smile wreathing her face. But she couldn't figure out why he hadn't let her enter the room. Then she happened to glance at the mirror. Her jaw dropped.

  She almost ran into the other room to cover herself. The skirt wasn't almost sheer. It was absolutely, utterly, scandalously sheer. The outline of her legs was visible with stark clarity, and when she moved, the cloth revealed more than it hid. To make matters worse, the lace front panel of her flimsy panties didn't exactly hide anything, either. The gauzy blue of her skirt granted any watcher blatant hints of the dark red curls at the juncture of her thighs.

  The top, which she'd thought sexy but not too revealing, was outrageous in its eroticism. The fabric hugged her breasts with loving care, outlining them with clear precision; her nipples were visible, shameless points of desire against the thin silk. The tightness of the top controlled her breasts, but it also lovingly plumped them up. Soft, white flesh overflowed the neckline.

  "Oh my God." She clutched at the wall behind her. No wonder Tariq had forbidden her from entering the other room. She looked like a houri. She felt like a woman dressed to please her master in any way he chose. A wave of apprehension hit her. In desperation, she took a deep breath. In and out. In and out. The added oxygen must have revived her brain cells, because a bright ray of hope stood out from the chaos in her mind.

  "He didn't tell me to change," she whispered. "In fact, he said I looked perfect." If Tariq had been put off by her sexy outfit, he wouldn't have been so insistent on leaving her in his bedroom to wait, wouldn't have agreed on her choice, and surely wouldn't have kissed her.

  Grinning, she skipped over to the huge bed and perched on the end, away from the mirror. She pasted a bored expression on her face just as Tariq opened the door. He stopped. She saw him swallow, and for once she knew exactly what her husband was thinking. He wanted to throw her on the bed and teach her not to tease him. Except he wasn't sure that she was teasing. And, Jasmine decided, he was too much in control if he could resist that primitive urge.

  She jumped off the bed and walked over. "Ready?"

  He nodded but didn't seem to remember that he was blocking the door. Successfully fighting the urge to tease him, she pushed at his chest. He obediently moved aside to let her pass, then followed.

  Once inside, he didn't take a cushion on the other side of the low table set with food. Instead, he sat down beside her, propping himself up with one hand flat on the cushion behind her. His shoulder and chest pressed against her and when she leaned back a little, his arm provided a hard masculine backrest.

  Jasmine tried to steady her breathing, and picked up a plateful of small tarts of some kind. She offered the plate to Tariq. He lifted one dark eyebrow in invitation. With a blush she couldn't control, she picked up a tart and fed it to him. He almost caught her fingers on his second bite. Laughing, she pulled away just in time.

  Her husband had a definite glint in his eye, but she was determined that she wouldn't be the only one losing control tonight. He was coming with her. However, attempting to ignore the way the panther by her side was throwing her body into chaos was proving to be difficult.

  With a forced smile, she picked up a tart and took a bite. "I've never eaten anything like this." The savory pastry was spicy, with a hint of unfamiliar herbs, but delicious. To her surprise, Tariq reached out and filched the rest of it.

  "Hey!" Surprise overcame her inner trembling.

  "I told you I was hungry. Feed me quickly."

  Jasmine told herself she was imagining the double entendre in his words—surely he hadn't meant that he was hungry? She was getting ahead of herself. She mock-scowled at him, but picked up a kebab and fed it to her sheik. He sprawled beside her, seemingly content to eat whatever she chose, as long as she offered it to him. Tariq had never done this before and Jasmine found that she enjoyed cosseting him. Today, for the first time, she'd begun to understand precisely how enormous his duties were. It made her want to fill his life with pleasure, so that those duties wouldn't burn out the bright light inside him, though that same light threatened to make her love for him impossibly stronger.

  "I don't think I can eat dessert." Some time later, she put a hand on her stomach. It wasn't terribly full, but she was aware that she might be engaging in some strenuous exercise soon.

  Tariq's eyes traveled in a slow journey from her lips to her breasts, to the curve of her stomach. This time she couldn't fight the glow that tinged her skin the color at the heart of Zulheil Rose. The instant he became aware of her response, he ran a finger across the top of her breasts. The fleeting caress made her feel weak and tingly inside.

  "We'll leave it here." Tariq rose to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. "In case you get hungry later."

  Jasmine almost stumbled when she caught the meaning of his husky words. However, when she looked up, she saw that he continued to exercise rigid control over his expression. If she surrendered now, she wouldn't be any closer to breaking through the sensual barriers between them than she'd been at the start of the evening.

  What now? she thought, frantic at the prospect of failure. He wasn't aroused enough if he wasn't ripping off her clothes. She was sick of being gently undressed each night. She wanted her passionate, insatiable and teasing lover back. He led her into their bedroom, stopped by the bed and lifted his fingers to the buttons on her blouse.

  Jasmine took a deep breath and pushed Tariq's hands away. They dropped at once, but he'd already half unbuttoned her blouse, leaving her breasts in imminent danger of falling out.

  "You do not wish to proceed?" He was painfully correct in his speech.

  "Tariq, would you grant me a boon?" The old-fashioned words seemed appropriate. She was dressed like a princess from a fairy tale, or perhaps a sensual goddess from myth, and in front of her stood a dark warrior she had to woo to her side or all would be lost.

  "You do not have to ask a boon, Jasmine. I accept your desire not to..." He began to back away. Only the way he clenched his fists at his sides revealed his true feelings.

  She gripped his shirt in desperate appeal. "I want you."

  His hands went to her buttons again. She shook her head.

  "What is it, Mina?" He sounded impatient, more like the lover she'd known before he'd started to withdraw. And he'd called her Mina.

  "I just..." She bit her lip. "Would it be okay if I touched you tonight?" This time, she went for his buttons.

  He groaned. "I've told you, touching me is permitted at any time."

  "But I want you not to touch me."

  "I do not understand." He was wary again.

  "I lose my mind when you touch me, and for once I want to be able to explore you. Please?" She knew asking him to give her control was a risk. But if he said no, she'd just keep trying, she decided. He was already acting with more heat than he'd shown for the past two weeks. She undid the button she'd been toying with and moved on to the next one.

  His hand touched her hair in a light caress before he pulled out the pins. The soft curls tumbled to her shoulders in a fiery waterfall. "And what am I to do while you ... explore me?" She didn't miss either the slight hesitation or the abrasive roughness of his voice.

  Chapter Ten

  Jasmine undid another button. "Just lie back and enjoy it. I'll do all the work."

  Silence filled the room, broken only with the sounds of their breathing. Jasmine bit her lip again and stopped herself from pleading.

  "I'll allow you to do this." His hands settled on her exposed hips, his skin warm against hers.

  Jasmine smiled and reached up on tiptoe to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you."

  He appeared startled by her open enjoyment of the situation, but was willing to do as she wished. She drew back and finished unbuttoning his shirt, then pulled the tails out of his pants to complete the task. His beautiful chest felt as hard as steel under her questing fingers. Delighted by the freedom to explore, she ran her fingernails down the center line of his chest. He sucked in a breath.

  "I love your chest." She threw caution to the winds. "Every time I see you come out of the shower, I want to you into bed and kiss you everywhere." She moved her fingers to his flat male nipples and then ran her nails over both. His groan was music to her ears.

  Emboldened by his response, she wrapped her arms around his rigid body and put her hands flat on his back. His skin was so hot it almost burned. Then she flicked her tongue over one of his nipples. His hand moved up her back to clench in her hair. Delighted, she continued to kiss his chest, alternating soft warm kisses with wet openmouthed ones. She kissed her way down to his abdomen until she was kneeling in front of him. When she reached the waistband of his pants, he tugged on her hair with innate gentleness and pulled her back up.

  "Mina," he whispered, against her mouth. "Have you had enough exploring?" His voice was heavy, sensual, encouraging.

  She gasped when he sucked her lower lip into his own mouth. He took his time kissing her, bestowing nibbling love bites on her lips before urging her to open. When she did, his tongue swept in and proceeded to taste her with arrogant thoroughness. It was a long, lazy kiss that left her feeling as if she belonged to him. When he released her, she shook her head, breathless and aroused. "I've just begun."

  She trailed her fingers down the bare part of his arms. His golden skin strained to contain the pure strength of the muscles beneath. Lifting his hand to her mouth, she sucked one finger into the moist recesses. He released his breath in a forceful hiss. One by one, she sucked each of his fingers and then repeated the hot, sweet caress on his other hand, before moving to undo the buttons on the cuffs.

  By the time she finished, Tariq's vivid green eyes echoed the perfect clarity of shattered emerald shards. "Would you like this off?" He motioned to his shirt.

  "Yes." Walking behind him, she helped tug it off. The skin of his shoulders was hot and smooth. Jasmine molded her hands over them, captivated by the way they tensed.

  The shirt fell to the floor. After pushing it aside with one foot, she shucked her slippers. When he would've turned, she wrapped her arms around his waist and plastered herself against him. "Stay. I want to touch your back." The shudder that went through him vibrated against her sensitive nipples and reached deep within. It was as if a part of Tariq was inside her, touching her in the most intimate way.