“Seriously, I felt like we’d been kidnapped. If all goes smoothly and we’re allowed to leave for the airport, I’ll let the embassy know everything is fine. If not, at least someone knows where we are.”
“How did you make the call when there’s no cell service here?” She’d been carrying her phone around for two days, and it hadn’t made a peep. It had probably run out of battery again but she’d forgotten to check.
“I managed to get enough bars in Nabattur to make a call. It wasn’t easy. They’re doing a great job keeping this place in the middle ages.”
“I hope no one gets in trouble.” She started to walk again, eyes focused on the blue-and-white tile mosaic under her feet.
“Especially us. Geez, Sam, what’s gotten into you? Are you getting Stockholm syndrome or something? This Sheikh Osman has been holding us as his virtual prisoner for nearly three days.
“Nonsense. He’s been a wonderful host and given us an insider’s view of the festival. I think you’re being ungrateful.”
“I think you’re being far too trusting. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed he’s got a major crush on you.”
And the feeling is mutual.
“He’s very sweet. I think I’ll miss him.” She might as well start letting Allan down easy. They were close to their room doors, and her nerves jangled as she wondered whether he’d follow her inside. There was no way she could sleep with him tonight.
She grabbed the heavy iron handle and pushed the door. Allan hovered behind her and sniffed loudly. Which gave her an idea. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.” She manufactured a loud sniffle.
“Oh, no. Not until we’re back home. I can’t travel on a plane with a cold. My sinuses swell up until they feel like they’re going to explode. And I don’t have my neti pot. Jeez, you could have warned me earlier.” He was already backing away like she had rabies.
“Earlier I wasn’t sure. I thought it might be allergies. But now.” She rubbed her nose unattractively with the back of her hand, which helped to hide her smile of triumph.
“Well, Sam, I did promise I’d spend the night with you, but a cold…. You know how that affects me, and we still have a full day of filming tomorrow.”
“It’s okay. Really.” She tried to look disappointed, which was hard when she felt nothing but sweet relief.
“Try to get some sleep. We need to be ready for anything tomorrow if they won’t let us go.”
His words left her with a twinge of anxiety. What if Osman didn’t let them leave? Or, more likely, didn’t let her go. He’d stirred up something between them that threatened to spiral out of control. Obviously, it was up to her to get both of their lives back on track.
She’d deliberately chosen a life behind-the-scenes, after watching her parents’ relationship unravel, then crash back together, over and over again, on the pages of gossip rags as well as in their living room. She hated the spotlight. She craved a quiet and peaceful life, with predictable routines. That would be impossible with a monarch, especially one with the charisma and energy of Osman. Around him it was hard not to get swept up in his wake. If she wasn’t careful, she could find herself way out of her depth.
She undressed slowly and put on her familiar white-and-yellow pajama pants with a white camisole top. She had to trust him.
Beshwistar.
The word crept into her mind. Have faith. If he cared about her, he’d let her go. She had no idea what feelings he really had for her after only two days, though he was obviously attracted to her.
Curiosity made her approach the mirror on one wall, to see what drew him to her. It was an old mirror, spotted with age, so probably everyone would look at least half decent in its misty depths. She looked more or less the same as usual, though her olive skin was a little more tanned after two days in the hot Ubar sun.
No doubt Osman would forget her as quickly as he seemed to have fallen for her. He probably fell for a different woman every week, and she happened to be in the right place at the right time when he needed a wife to claim his crown. Next week he’d find someone far more suitable and likely more beautiful, too.
She climbed under the covers, which felt deliciously cool against her hot skin. Getting some sleep wouldn’t be easy, but she’d be grateful for it tomorrow when she faced another long day on her feet.
She was drifting off to sleep when she heard a tiny sound and her eyes snapped open. A long triangle of light poured in from the hallway, because her door was now cracked open. “Who’s there?”
Heart pounding, she sat up in bed.
“Do you really need to ask?” Osman’s low voice soothed her. Which was strange. Shouldn’t she be nervous about his intruding uninvited into her room? Mostly she was just relieved he wasn’t Allan.
She sat silent in the darkness, waiting. The door closed behind him, blocking out the light, and she heard his robe swish as he crossed the floor toward her bed. Excitement crackled through her. Moonlight pouring through the filigreed wooden shutters covered the walls and ceiling with starry patterns of dark silver. Osman’s greenish eyes didn’t glow like the mysterious black leopards’, but she could see them shining as he sought her in the dark.
His weight on the bed tilted her toward him as he sat. “I came to continue what Eldar so rudely interrupted.” His hand took hers and lifted it to his lips. Her skin sizzled as he kissed the back of her hand with exquisite softness.
She struggled to keep her senses, which was never easy with Osman around. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is.” He kissed her wrist, and a shiver of arousal ran up her arm. “You can’t deny what’s happening between us.”
“I agree there’s a powerful attraction, but that doesn’t mean we should act on it.”
“We already have.” He’d turned her hand and now feathered kisses over the supersensitive skin of her palms and fingertips.
“I’d argue that was a mistake.” A mistake they’d now made more than once. “I’m here for a job, and it ends tomorrow. I’m not the kind of person who enjoys a steamy affair for its own sake.”
“You prefer a steamy affair that ends in marriage.” His hot breath stirred the skin inside her wrist.
“Yes. No! I don’t know.” It was getting hard to think with him holding her hand captive. She tried to tug it back, but he seized it in his fist and held it tight. She pulled again and inadvertently thrust herself toward him.
He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he tugged her camisole top down and bared her nipple. Then he licked it with his rough tongue, making her gasp. Some distant part of her brain told her to keep struggling for the return of her hand, but the rest of her body chose to ignore it. The fingers of her other hand even decided to wander to his chest and run their tips over his own tight nipple.
The robe he wore opened along the front and fell apart to bare his chest. She caught a glimpse of its sculpted outline in the moonlight. Uh-oh. Hot desire unfurled in her core.
Osman dipped his head and sucked her other nipple, which had tightened to a bud, and she allowed herself to explore the strong lines of his back with her hands.
Was it so wrong to enjoy a night of pleasure with this man who wanted it so badly? Most likely she’d never see him again and there would be no repercussions. She’d already decided to break up with Allan. It was almost insulting how quickly he’d jumped at the chance to sleep alone and protect his sinuses from inflammation rather than share intimacy with her.
“Oh.” The sound escaped her mouth as Osman sucked hard on her nipple. Sensation rushed over her in a wave that made her rock forward. Now his mouth wandered lower, his tongue blazing a trail over her belly. He tugged at the elastic waist of her pajama pants, then pressed his mouth against her crotch. Before she had time to process what was happening, his tongue flicked back and forth, revving her already overheated engine.
Soon she lay on her back, sprawled across the pillows, releasing herself to the powerful sensations Osman unleashe
d inside her. There was nothing wrong with desire. It was a natural part of human existence. Yes, it was probably better to explore it within the confines of a committed relationship, but surely everyone was allowed one wild fling in their time?
Her hips writhed as Osman pleasured her with his mouth, arching to deepen the sensation flooding her core. Already she teetered on the brink of an orgasm, and he hadn’t even entered her. Of course he was a skilled lover who must have driven countless women insane with lust. This was just another evening of seduction for him. Nothing special. He was probably just trying to soften her up with his talk of marriage. Maybe he figured that was what all women wanted to hear.
“Oooooh.” Another embarrassing half-hissed exclamation escaped her as he stuck his tongue right inside her. That was a first! The feeling was astonishingly intimate and made her crave something more substantial inside her. Her fingers crept around his waist and found that he was every bit as aroused as her.
Then a sobering thought occurred. “Do you have a condom?” The question was an admission that she wanted to have sex with him right now. She was on the Pill but still not crazy enough to have unprotected sex with a man she barely knew.
“I do.” He pulled one from the folds of his robe and unwrapped it with expert ease. She watched him roll it on his erection with growing anticipation.
He entered her very slowly, making her most intimate muscles reach and grab for his hard length until she was in a fever of excitement. She wrapped her arms around his big torso and held him close, drinking in his masculine scent and enjoying the stubble of his cheek against hers.
“I know you think I’m crazy, but I love you already.” He breathed the words into her ear. “You’re a dream come true.”
Sam squeezed her eyes tight shut, thoughts tangling with the powerful feelings dancing inside her. She should find his confession alarming or frightening, but right now it felt natural and wonderful. She loved that Osman could so easily share his feelings when most men would keep them hidden for fear of looking like a fool.
“You’re a pretty special guy,” she murmured, a smile sneaking over her mouth as she nibbled his ear. “I think any woman would be lucky to have you.” And she didn’t mean because of his palace or his royal titles or vast wealth or any of that stuff. He was a kind, warm, demonstrative man who knew how to give and receive affection. Sam knew from experience that was not something you could take for granted.
“I’m lucky to have you.” He proved it with a passionate kiss, still dancing inside her and sending her insides spinning in all directions. She wanted to argue that he only had until tomorrow, but that seemed so petty and right now she didn’t want to believe it. With her arms wrapped around him and her ears still ringing with his professions of love, she wished she could stay right here with him until the end of time. She wouldn’t meet a man like Osman again.
He kissed her face all over, so gentle and careful that she felt like a rare work of art. All the while he moved inside her, tiny intimate movements that made her insides dance with his. Everything about their lovemaking felt utterly natural and sensual, nothing forced or desperate at all. Her first orgasm washed over her gently like a ship coming into port. When he quickened the rhythm, she climaxed again, her muscles gripping him as she clutched him close. The third time, they came together in an explosive release of tension that felt like a champagne cork bursting from the bottle.
Afterward they lay in each other’s arms, totally relaxed and satisfied, all the tension and passion drifting away like moonbeams around them. Neither of them could sleep. First they talked about his future kingdom and his hopes and ambitions for his tiny but ancient nation. Then they talked about her career and some long-planned projects she hoped to make in the next few years. Then they talked about their school days, their friends and their family. Osman obviously loved his brothers deeply, and she admired him for harboring no resentment that they’d each been given a chunk of his birthright to call their own.
Sam felt a sneaking sense of dread when the first pale rays of morning sun began to creep through the filigreed shutters. This was her last day in Ubar. Spending a night in Osman’s arms could turn out to be a big mistake when she lay in her lonely empty bed in New York, missing him.
First she’d have to find a bed. Allan had been living at her place for six months, ever since he’d had some kind of dispute with his former roommate. She could let him take over her lease, and she’d find somewhere new. That was better for a fresh start, anyway.
“What are you thinking about?” Osman ran his thumb gently over her lips.
“Going home. I have a lot of changes to make.”
“Don’t go home. Stay here with me.” His expression was deadly serious. And hopeful. Agonizingly hopeful.
Her chest hurt. “It’s not that simple. It’s taken years to build my career. I have commitments.” If she spent six months overseas her upcoming projects would fall apart or be turned over to someone else. She worked hard to keep herself booked and busy as far in advance as possible, as that was the safest way for a freelance producer to survive. If one project got delayed—which often happened—she’d just juggle two at once. She could usually handle that, but there was no way she could drop everything for a few months of luxurious indulgence in Ubar.
“You can’t go.” His arms wrapped around her, holding her in an affectionate vice grip. She didn’t even try to escape because she knew she’d have no chance. For a few seconds it was relaxing to have no options but to submit to Osman’s insistent caresses.
But this wasn’t real life.
“The sun’s rising. I need to get to Nabattur.” She blinked as brighter rays edged across the tiled stone floor toward the bed.
“Of course.” He eased himself away from her like he was peeling off a BandAid and shook his head with a mysterious smile on his face. “I’d never stand in the way of you making this documentary as magnificent as I know it will be.”
She blinked, surprised—and maybe even a little disappointed—that he’d let her go that easily. She resolved to be happy about it. “Great. You really don’t need to come, either. I’m sure you have more important things to do now that I’ve monopolized your time for the last two days. Allan and I can drive ourselves into Nabattur.”
“Nonsense. I’ll escort you. What if you break down again?” He’d turned the other way, shrugging into his robe, so she couldn’t see his face, but she thought she heard a hint of impatience in his voice.
“Only if you can spare the time. I know Nabattur better than most of New York at this point. I can even make myself understood if I need to, at least with some basic phrases.”
Osman turned and looked at her. “Alarishim.”
She blinked. He’d said it with such force. “What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t translate exactly, but it roughly means ‘the day is ours.’ It’s an ancient battle cry.” A smile tugged at one side of his mouth. “Our men would stand in their stirrups and shout it to the winds before charging against the enemy.”
“They were a confident bunch.”
Mischief shone in his eyes. “And with good reason.”
17
A pretty young girl delivered a new dress for Sam to wear. Gold silk with bright-blue embroidery on the cuffs and hem and a blue-and-gold sash or headscarf or whatever it was.
She didn’t put it on. So far Osman had managed to railroad her into acting out every important part of the ceremony with him, and she felt sure that if she wore this dress today she’d end up married to him. It looked suspiciously like the attire she’d seen in old photos of the betrothal ceremony. Instead, she donned a dark rose-colored shirt and some slim-fitting khakis. A glance in the mirror confirmed that she looked more like an international journalist that an Ubarite bride. Which was a big relief.
A knock on the door made her jump, and this time it was Allan. His eyes immediately fell to the gold ensemble on the bed. “Getting married this morning, are you?” The
cold look in his eyes suggested he knew everything she and Osman had done last night.
Guilt swept over her in a nauseating wave. “Allan, I have to tell you something.”
“I knew it.” His lips pressed together for a moment. “Though I don’t understand it. I wouldn’t have thought a domineering tin-pot dictator would be your style.”
Anger flared in her at his unfair description of Osman. But this was not the time or place to defend her choice. “It’s certainly been a confusing three days, but I think we both know things won’t be the same between us.” She didn’t want to mention how disappointed she was in how he’d conducted himself and done his best to spoil this whole adventure. “We don’t seem to want the same things from life.”
“I thought you wanted to make good films, not become a sultan’s concubine.”
“Allan! Stop it. I have no intention of becoming anyone’s concubine, and I sincerely hope that we can still work together in the future, as I have every intention of making hundreds of films. The truth is, we’re not as compatible as we thought. I love the excitement and even the inconvenience of traveling to a place I don’t know and meeting the people and eating the food and sleeping under their skies, and you hate it. I had no idea you’d feel that way, but now that I do I don’t feel the same way about you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, covering the Sundance Festival logo on his T-shirt. “Seems pretty petty to me. I thought we were supposed to love each other.”
She drew in a breath to steady herself. “I thought I loved you, but I now I realize it was something else. I don’t think you loved me, either. Our connection is an intellectual one that has little or nothing to do with passion or emotion. I think we were both in the right place at the right time and desperately wanted to love each other. In the cold light of day—”
“Hot.” He gestured at the sunrays pouring through the shutters. “The unpleasantly hot light of day.”
“I don’t love you.” It was very easy to say and rather satisfying under the circumstances. “But we still have a film to shoot.”
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 54