“I brought two glasses.” She handed them over along with the decanter of whisky.
“You can pour while I build the fire.” He built a pyramid of logs, with practiced skill. Long fingers placed the kindling deftly in the gaps and added crumpled newspaper around the base. She smiled at the concentration in his face. He would be like this with his work: intensely focused and supremely competent.
When he was satisfied, he glanced over his shoulder at Olivia. “Do you want to light it?”
“It’s your fire,” she told him. “You should light it.”
“Are you sure? It’s the fun part.”
“No, you can do your caveman thing.”
Khaled grinned and took the box of matches. He struck one right on his first go, and held it to the corner of the newspaper. Bright orange flames shot up immediately at each point where Khaled held the match. He tossed the remnant of the match onto the fire and sat back on his haunches to monitor its progress.
“The chimney’s drawing well,” she said after a few minutes, when the fire had well and truly caught.
“Seems to be. Come and sit with me.” He was the very image of temptation, grinning up at her from the flickering light of the fire, inviting her into the circle of sensuous pleasure. She was on the point of refusing when he added, in a low husky voice, “I promise not to bite.”
That wasn’t what she was afraid of. Still, she went to join him on the carpet in front of the fire and handed him a cut-glass tumbler with a good inch of whisky. She clasped her hands around her knees and rested her chin on top. Next to him, but signaling her inaccessibility. They sat in companionable silence, watching the fire burn deeper into the pine logs. Occasionally, Khaled took the poker and rearranged the wood, letting the oxygen fuel the flames. He laid the poker aside and shifted so that he was behind Olivia, his long legs stretched out on either side of hers. He took her empty tumbler from her hand and set it beside his.
“That’s better,” he murmured.
His arms circled her lightly, enough that she felt wanted, but not so much that she felt trapped. His breath was warm against the exposed skin of her neck. His scent was deep and rich and masculine with whisky and smoke. Olivia leaned comfortably against the hardness of his chest and relaxed.
“Did you grow up in this house?”
Surprised by the question, Olivia twisted her head to look at Khaled. “Yes. Why?”
“It’s very big. And cold.”
“I suppose so. I’m used to it, though.”
“Were you lonely here?”
She turned away again, staring into the depths of the fire. “Not when I was little.”
“But you are now?”
She took a deep breath. “Since my mother died, yes.”
Khaled’s embrace tightened perceptibly and his hand stroked hers softly. “I am sorry. Was it recent?”
“I was eight years old.”
He stilled. “So young.”
Olivia blinked back her tears fiercely and continued with a steady voice. “It was a long time ago.”
“And you have been lonely ever since. You didn’t have any brothers or sisters?”
“No.” She’d done her best to be the son she thought her father would have preferred. She’d worked hard at school. She hadn’t bothered him with requests for clothes or makeup. She’d studied engineering because she hoped it would please him.
“I’m too warm here.” The fire warmed her front and Khaled her back. The whisky warmed her from the inside.
His long fingers tangled in the hem of her sweater. “You could take this off.”
This was her moment. This was their moment, and in that instant, Olivia determined to make the most of it. She pulled the sweater over her head and turned to face him.
“Olivia?”
“Mm.” She didn’t want to talk anymore. She leaned forward and showed Khaled exactly what she wanted, with her lips on his and her hands gripping his shirt for balance. He let her take the lead, exploring and tasting.
Kissing Khaled was as natural as she remembered from earlier. It felt as though it was what her body had been designed to do. She knew instinctively to arch her body in the way that helped his hand find the curve of her breasts and the hard, sensitive nipples that his fingers sought. She sighed into his mouth, and he responded with a deeper, harder kiss, focusing Olivia’s world into that one scintillating touch.
For a while it was enough. The connection between them expressed everything she felt and returned everything she wanted, but the more she took, the more she needed to feel. She pushed her hands under his shirt, skating her fingers over the hard, unyielding planes of his chest. He anticipated her needs, yanking his shirt over his head, and pulling her mouth back onto his before she had a chance to do more than glance at his naked torso. She let him kiss her again, but before long the impulse to taste every inch of the sculpted lines of his cheek and jaw took over.