He wasn’t happy. She could tell and lowered her lashes, feeling like a burden.
“I’m s—”
His phone buzzed again and he swore. “I have to take this. They’re packing for us. We’ll leave shortly.”
“Where are we going?”
“Safari.” He swiped to accept his call.
“Safari! Where?”
“Africa. Where else do you go on safari?”
* * *
Eight hours later, his sound-barrier-defying jet landed them in Tanzania. They climbed aboard a helicopter for another hour, but it passed quickly as she kept her nose pressed to the glass, viewing herds of zebras and wildebeests, elephants and antelope and giraffes from above.
Then they were on the ground, traveling by Jeep, passing within a few hundred meters of more animals, pausing beside a waterhole where muddy hippos wallowed and yawned.
Their driver did most of the talking. Gabriel wore mirrored aviator sunglasses and stretched his arm behind her seat, both tense and relaxed. Each time she smiled in wonder at him, she found him watching her and her heart skipped and bounced in reaction.
He must think her so foolish, snapping her neck around as she tried to take it all in, but if she didn’t immerse herself in the spectacle around them, she would grow too conscious of his thigh splayed near her own. Or the way she would only have to slide down a little in her seat to nestle into that space beneath his arm.
He had told her they were staying in a camp, but despite the grass-pressed mud walls and thatched roofs, the collection of buildings was as luxurious as his supersonic airplane. They were shown through the main lodge where a dining room was set with china and crystal. A sturdy suspension bridge took them across a wide, shallow stream where crocodiles lurked. Strange birdcalls followed them into the open air of their raised villa. It had three bedrooms, each with a bed canopied in mosquito netting and a deck with a view across the Serengeti.
As she watched the setting sun streak glorious magenta and scarlet, indigo and marigold across the horizon, she heard the noise of ice shifting in a bucket behind her. She turned to see Gabriel in the shadowed lounge behind her, heard him peel the foil from the bottle he held.
“Do you want to put the light on?” she asked.
“Not yet. You make an interesting optical illusion standing there so still. Like a black hole in the shape of a woman cut from a piece of painted paper.”
It was an innocuous thing to say, but knowing he’d been looking at her again made wires of tension tighten inside her.
“I’d forgotten what a big place the world really is.” She looked out again, watching the last of the light fade. “It’s as noisy as the city here, but in a different way, which makes it seem quiet. I feel small and remote and I should probably be terrified to be so far from civilization, but I just feel...calm.”
The cork popped.
She chuckled at the incongruous, yet perfect timing. “Maybe not that far from civilization.”
“No,” he agreed.
She had the feeling his efficient staff packed “civilization” for him the way anyone else remembered a toothbrush.
“We should take this to the plunge pool. Cool off before dinner,” he suggested as she came in to take a glass.
“I’d love that. I feel all sweaty. I’ll change and join you there.”
Not ready to walk out in, essentially, a bra and panties, she chose a tankini. The bottoms were black short shorts, the top a formfitting print that tied behind her neck. Bright swirls of neon twisted over and under the cups, accentuating her bust.
The small pool was situated in a grotto-like private balcony off the master bedroom, which Gabriel was using. Four torches cast flickering light and left a citrus scent in the air that she suspected were meant to discourage insects. Gabriel was in the water, his arms stretched along the edges, hair wet and slicked back from his face.
She tiptoed down the steps into the cool water, sipped her champagne and set it on the edge. And wondered how awkward the next week would be, trying to make conversation with a man who expressed so little.
“You would think they would situate the pool so guests could watch the sun set,” she murmured, seeing nothing but bush around them.
“The privacy allows for suits to be optional.”
She snapped him a look and he chuckled.
“Your face is priceless. I’m wearing a suit.” He stood in a rush of water so she could see the snug band of black.
Not much of a suit. The water trickled and slid in silvery trails down every glorious bronze plane and dent in his chiseled physique. A black arrow of hair disappeared into the low band and the fabric cupped—
She jerked her gaze off that bulge and quickly wet her dry throat with a gulp of champagne. She thought he chuckled again, but he turned away to fetch the bottle out of the bucket, which he’d left on the edge near the stairs. He waded across to top up her glass, then refilled his own and settled beside her.
But she sensed his tension.
“Are you angry that we had to come here?” she asked.
“I don’t have to do anything.” He turned his head to regard her. “Neither do you.”
And just like that, she understood his tension was the same kind that gripped her—sexual.
“What if I want to?” It was her honeymoon.
He stretched out his arm, setting his glass on the edge and tipping back his head. His chest rose above the water as he took in a deep breath and let it out.
“Do you know where babies come from, Luli?”
“Oh, for—Is that a real question? Yes.” She rolled her eyes.
“Being a virgin, I’ll presume you’re not on any sort of contraception?”
“I’ve heard of something called condoms?” she shot back facetiously, then buried her mouth against the rim of her glass, admitting, “I’m curious.”
“Curious is fine.” He abruptly gathered her, easily floating her in the water so she was sitting with her knees straddling his thighs. His hands sat against the crook where the tops of her thighs met her hips, hot palms branding her through the fabric of her short shorts. “I’m more than curious. I’m obsessed with finding out how high this fire between us might burn.”
That fire was beginning to consume her now. “Okay,” she breathed, leaning in.
His thumbs dug in at her hips.
“But slipups happen. I signed our marriage contract thinking you would provide me an heir. If you don’t want children, I’m not going to force you, but I will need some. If you don’t want them, we’ll have to divorce at some point so I can marry someone else who does.”
She sat back and bit her lip in consternation.
“You see? I wasn’t entirely joking when I said you shouldn’t give your virginity to the first man you marry. How involved do you want to get, knowing this marriage won’t last?”
“What is my second husband likely to think if I show up a virgin? You’re appalled and—”
“I’m not appalled. I’m recognizing that your inexperience makes you vulnerable.”
“Then give me experience,” she near cried. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, never done anything. Here I am married, on my honeymoon, and I get nothing? That’s so typical of the way my life goes.”
She started to shift off