Hajar's Hidden Legacy by Maisey Yates

Author:Maisey Yates
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781408973271
Publisher: HarlequinUKLtd
Published: 2012-12-01T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

SHE wasn’t used to saying the wrong thing. Or maybe she wasn’t used to people showing their disapproval as openly. Unless of course it was from her father.

This, with Zahir, went way beyond disapproval, though. She’d hurt him. At least, she thought maybe she had. She wasn’t certain that Zahir felt hurt anymore. She wasn’t sure if there was anything behind that granite wall of his.

Oh, no, there’s … there’s all that passion.

Just for moment, she’d seen Zahir as he’d been. Effortlessly seductive, charming and sensual. As he had been? He still had it. He’d all but turned her to mush.

But that was just physical. A kind of physical she wasn’t used to. But she knew enough to know that men didn’t really need emotion to get into the physical. She wasn’t entirely certain she needed it, either, considering how she’d responded to him.

Not that she was entirely void of emotion where he was concerned.

She thought back to that day in the market, his eyes like a hunted, wounded animal until she’d touched him. And when they’d cleared, in that moment, something had shifted in her. And it had only kept on shifting. The oasis. The dance. The kiss.

Nothing like the few chaste kisses she’d shared with Malik. Theirs had been an attempt to find some passion between them, and she’d been certain that she could, but it hadn’t been anything like being in Zahir’s arms.

With him, she’d gone up in flames.

She still burned. She squirmed slightly in her reclining position on her plush bed, a slight sheen of sweat breaking out over her skin.

She could still feel the imprint of his hands on her, sliding over her curves, his tongue against hers. So sensual, in a way she hadn’t imagined it could be. Her body felt overheated again, just like that. Just the thought of him.

Blinking hard, she turned her attention back to her tablet computer and swiped her fingers over the screen idly, flipping through a few more wedding gown designs. She wasn’t certain it really mattered what she wore, but her usual dresser had sent her some amazing sketches, and it would be great publicity for him and the fashion designer who’d created them. So in that way, it sort of mattered.

She frowned. She was always doing that. Looking for the meaning in what she did. The weight. A way to make herself matter. She rolled over onto her stomach and pushed the tablet out of the way. She would just have Kevin pick one. Because she really didn’t care. What did it matter anyway?

Zahir would rather not be having the wedding at all, and he wouldn’t care if she walked down the aisle in clear tape and packing peanuts. So truly, the wedding gown was moot.

It didn’t represent anything. A legal union that didn’t go beyond the piece of paper they would both be signing. A different set of documents, another pair of signatures, and they’d be unmarried just as easily.

She’d leave the cake flavors and the canapés up to the wedding coordinator, too.

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