He let out a ragged breath, accepted her silent embrace.
Then he pulled back with a sad smile, love shining in the eyes he’d passed down to her. “You always know what to do and say. And more important, what not to do and say. I don’t think I could have stomached platitudes about how it’s for the best, how it’s time to start a new life.”
A smile trembled on her face in an attempt at teasing. “Even though it’s true.”
He pinched her cheek softly. “Especially since it is.”
She smiled back into his eyes, thankful that he was letting her steer him away from moroseness.
She’d been urging him to resign for the past three weeks, since the day she’d come back and he’d told her he was thinking it was the solution to everything, to sever his connection to Zohayd. And he’d had no idea of her dilemma.
She couldn’t have agreed more. Yet it had taken him this long to bring himself to do it.
“This place, these people, are far more than a job to me.” He walked to the nearest couch, sat down with a heavy exhalation.
She nodded. “Mother always said they held your heart as much as we did, but with the added feeling that you were doing something far bigger than yourself, playing a major part in maintaining the peace and prosperity of Zohayd.”
“It’s not a feeling, it’s a fact.” A faraway look of bittersweet reminiscence came over his face. “She once told me I was delusional, considering myself a knight who swore undying allegiance to a great king. But it’s not a delusion. I am, and he is.” He looked back at her, dejection dimming his gaze. “The only reason I’m ending my service is because I’m no longer in any shape to deliver what he deserves. Even as I lost my family, first Jacqueline, then you, then Aram, I still … functioned. But lately, I seem to have lost my focus, my skills, my stamina.”
“You never lost us. We love you!”
“But you’re no longer with me. Did you know I’ve been begging your mother to come back to me and to convince you to return, too?”
No. That was news to her. Her parents’ relationship had always been a mystery.
“My efforts intensified after Aram went back to the States six years ago. She always refused, so I came to see you both more, stayed longer each time. When he realized my need to be with you, King Atef went out of his way to afford me extended leaves.”
She’d wondered how he’d been able to visit them for such long periods. Each visit had always left Jacqueline Nazaryan distraught.
“Your mother has never stopped loving me, you know?”
Johara looked at him helplessly. It seemed he had suddenly decided to answer all the questions he and her mother had always evaded. It had always been impossible to fathom her mother when it came to her father. Jacqueline talked about him and to him with such ire and intensity, but she’d never asked for divorce, or hooked up with another man.
Now Johara watched her father smile to himself, the smile of a man remembering the woman he loved, a sensual pain filling his eyes and lips. “We’re still lovers.”
She inhaled. Now that was something they’d both left her in the dark about. Very efficiently. She doubted she and Shaheen could hide the intimate nature of their relationship that well. Or at all. Which was why she must never be seen with him again.
She exhaled. “Why won’t she come back?”
That would have saved her from coming back herself and seeing Shaheen again, driving the lance in her heart deeper.
Her father’s lips twisted. “Because she’s angry at me. She’s been angry at me for a decade and a half. There was a time when I thought she might come back, but then you joined her and she’s been adamant ever since about not returning to Zohayd, even for a visit.”
“That’s why you didn’t tell her about your heart attack. Or your depression.”
His nod was defeated. “I won’t pressure her by playing on her sympathy, Johara. And I certainly don’t want her pitying me. I chose my duty over her. I’ve made a mess of things, and that won’t be how I win her back. But I intend to. Or die trying, anyway.”
She gasped and he made an apologetic wave of his hand as he rose from the couch. “Don’t listen to me, I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’ll snap out of it. All the faster because you’re here. I’ve never felt this fragile, and I think my condition makes me more prone to clinging to what I have here. It was your presence that gave me the strength to do what I did tonight. Will you please stay until I serve my notice?”
Her father had never asked anything of her until he’d asked her to come be by his side through this. She couldn’t say no then. She couldn’t say it now. She nodded, surged to hug him again.
As she watched him walking out of her suite, her heart churned out thick, slow thuds.
She was trapped. She’d survived being in Zohayd with Shaheen out of the kingdom, but now …
Even after the night of magic they’d shared, she hadn’t really believed he might react that way when he saw her again. During the past eight weeks, she’d tormented herself that, with his impending marriage in motion, when they met, he’d pretend she was the acquaintance he hadn’t seen in years and then ignore her.
But he hadn’t. He’d been every bit as incredible as he’d been that night. She had the same effect on him that he had on her, making him forget caution and trample on reason.
She couldn’t let him do that.
Until she could escape Zohayd, this time forever, she had to do everything she could to stop him from destroying his and his family’s credibility and weakening their power.
Most of all, she had to keep her secret intact.
A secret that, if discovered, might cost the Aal Shalaans their throne.
Seven
After coming to his decision, Shaheen had ambushed his father as he’d prepared to sleep.
He’d told King Atef he’d changed his mind. He was relieving him of the burden of choosing his bride. But he wanted more choices. Or more reason to choose one of the existing candidates over the others. Surely the families didn’t think a prettier dress or a more practiced smile would sway him? Didn’t they have more … incentives? For him, personally? He was not just the king’s son, a body with the required genes. He was a force to be reckoned with throughout the world. It was his life they were bartering away, after all, and they’d better make it worth his while.
His father had only closed his eyes then risen from his bed and walked out of his room without looking at Shaheen.
Shaheen shut his own eyes now. He hated to add to his father’s strife. But he couldn’t include him in his plan. Not yet.
His plan was simple. Kick up a controversy, drag in all those involved in his dilemma and stand back and watch. People showed their true colors in conflicts.
And that was what had been missing so far. After they’d agreed that Shaheen would pick a family through its representative bride, the tribes had fallen into a peaceful coexistence, thinking that, with Shaheen’s reputation for being completely incorruptible, there was nothing they could do beyond parading their daughters before him to influence his decision.
Now he’d as good as told them he wasn’t just acting the king’s obedient son in this matter and they should indeed fight dirty for said favor.
The reactions to this new development—and most important, the nonreactions—would expose who among their so-called allies who had access inside the palace were after new treaties within the current ruling regimen, and who was planning a coup.
He’d thrown his bomb and retreated, gone to his villa on the waters of the Arabian Sea, a hundred miles from the palace. He’d be inaccessible yet still be able to monitor the developments as the reactions of those involved reached him one way or another. Most important, he’d see Johara away from the scrutiny of the court.
She was coming to him now.
His heart expanded at the thought of her. It had taken every iota of his negotiating skills to secure her agreement. And she’d amazed him all over again.
But though making everyone believe he was still in the game was paramount for his plan’s success, none of that mattered. Not when weighed against protecting her from hurt.
He couldn’t leave her in the dark about his feelings and about what he had planned.
She’d agreed to come only when he’d told her he’d come to her publicly if she didn’t. She’d believed he was desperate enough to do it. But she’d insisted on making her own way. She’d said no one would think anything of her driving away from the palace on her own, but if she left in his chauffeured car, it would probably be on the national news within the hour. She’d even asked him to send his entourage away while she visited him. Since there was nothing he wanted more than to be alone with her, he’d emptied the immediate two-mile radius.
He was now standing on his second-floor bedroom suite’s veranda, awaiting her arrival. He cast his impatience across the tranquil emerald waters, followed the curve of the bay that hugged them and the villa, untouched by human hands except for the road that arced along its edge and that would bring her to him.
The sea winked diamonds in the pre-sunset rays as it lapped froth on the white-gold shore, its mass rocking gently back and forth, its rumble a hypnotic loop. The dense palm trees embracing the villa on its eastern and northern sides swayed in the strong autumn breeze in a dance of rustling elegance and harmony.
The magnificence and serenity felt lifeless, lacking. When she arrived everything would come alive, would be complete.
A cloud of dust swirled at the edge of his vision. In moments it parted on a streak of silver. A speeding car.
“Johara.”
He whispered her name, again and again, as he ran through the villa and grounds to await her at the gates.
In minutes, she pulled the car to a gentle stop, feet from him. He covered the remaining distance, holding her eyes through the windshield. He ended up leaning down to plant his palms flat on the hood of her father’s Mercedes, trying to bring the longing under control. Then he saw her mouth his name, the feelings echoing his trembling over her face. And he failed.
He rushed to her side, yanked her door open. Then she was in his arms, and he was in hers.
He took her from gravity as he wished to from everything that caused her worry. She surrendered herself to his haven, arms enveloping him from neck to back. He savored their connection, letting their eyes embrace, mate, love welling through him as he pressed her closer and closer. Then he took her lips.
She whimpered his name and he groaned hers between kisses so urgent they grew from barely letting their flesh connect, to sealing their lips in wrenching fusions.
They only broke apart when he placed her on his bed.
He loomed above her, looking down into her eyes, waiting for her to show him, to ask him.
She did, in every way. Her swollen lips joined her misty eyes in their demands, trembled on his name, begging for him.
He’d promised himself he’d talk to her first. But while he could have denied his own craving, he couldn’t deny hers.
He rose and her arms fell off his body. They thudded on the dark brown silk he’d draped his bed with for her, graceful arcs of surrender surrounding her head and fanned golden hair. Then she arched upward sinuously, in a wave of white-hot desire stroking him from thighs to chest.
He shuddered with the effort not to tear her out of her clothes and ram into her. His hands trembled when he forced gentleness into them as he stripped her out of her beige pantsuit, which could have been the most outrageous lingerie for its effect on him. He descended deeper into mindlessness as her twists and undulations helped him expose her lushness for his voracity.
“You have no idea, my Gemma …” He kissed and suckled his way from her feet, up her endless satin legs, turning her on her stomach to devour the firmness of her thighs and buttocks, to dig massaging fingers and mouth into the grace of her back and neck. “No idea, what I went through, when you disappeared. Worry almost destroyed my sanity. Then misery, when I thought you didn’t want me.”
“No.” Her cry tore through him as he ground himself against her back, finesse and restraint evaporating. Moans filled his head, high and deep, hers and his. Her flesh burned him with its own torment as she struggled beneath him, demanding he let her face him. He did, and she sank her fingers in his hair, tugged, her eyes urgent, adamant, solemn. “I’ve never wanted anything but you, Shaheen.”
“And I never knew what wanting was until you.” Her tears spilled at his declaration. He kissed them away, put her hands to his shirt. “Show me how much you want me, ya galbi.”
The hunger that spread over her face made him unable to bear the speed with which she exposed him. He ripped anything that couldn’t be undone fast enough, hoping she wouldn’t be alarmed at his savagery. Relief flooded him when it only inflamed her more.
But it wasn’t every dig of her fingers, nip of her teeth, pull of her lips, or even that she overcame her shyness and stroked and tasted his manhood that made him almost berserk. It was her words that singed him through to his soul and served as the ultimate aphrodisiac.
“I always thought you the most beautiful thing in the world, Shaheen,” she sobbed. “I want you all over me, inside me.”
“Give me your pleasure first, ya galbi.”
Before she could protest, he clamped one nipple between his lips, suckled her, nipped her, gorging on the feel and taste. Her cries of pleasure amplified in his inflamed brain as her body begged for his invasion. He glided the length of his nakedness against hers, reveling in how her satin firmness cushioned his rougher hardness. He pushed her legs apart with his knees, opened her folds with one hand. He stumbled to the brink just gliding his fingers along her molten heat, just smelling her arousal.
He drew harder on her nipple, giving her two fingers to suckle, while his other hand rubbed shaking circles over the knot of flesh where her nerves converged. She writhed, moaned, rippled beneath him, demanding more. He gave her more, two fingers pumping into her tight, flowing heat. After a few languorous thrusts, she bowed up on a stifled cry. Then she came apart.
“Aih, ya galbi, show me how much you want everything I do to you.” He feasted on the sight as she took her fill of pleasure, her inhibitions almost gone. Each grip and release of her inner flesh on his fingers transmitted to his arousal.
He still waited until she subsided, then stimulated her again. She pushed his hand away with a sharp cry of impatience, snared him with her legs, trying to get him to mount her.
He smiled his approval into her stormy eyes. “Aih, show me what you want of me, tell me how you want it.”
“I want you to take me, hard. Don’t you dare hold anything back this time. Give me all of you—” her fingers dug into his shoulders, wrenching him down on top of her with all the power of her fervor “—now!”
Before he complied, he reached for the bedside drawer. He was ready with protection this time. She stayed his hand, shook her head. Holding her heavy-with-need gaze, he read her message. She was telling him it was safe to take her. And he couldn’t draw another breath if he didn’t, if he didn’t give her all of him. He gripped her buttocks, tilted her, growled, “Khodini kolli … take all of me, ya joharti,” and plunged.
He hit her womb on that first thrust, obeying her need for his total invasion, secure she was ready, that any discomfort would only sharpen her pleasure. She engulfed him back with a piercing keen, consumed him in what felt like a velvet inferno.
He rested his forehead on hers, feeling like he was truly home, his hold on consciousness loosening.
Then she arched beneath him, until he felt she took him into her core, her streaming eyes making him feel she’d taken him into her heart. She was embedded in his.
With a pledge that
he’d never let her go, he withdrew all the way then thrust back, fierce and full.
He rode every satin scream as hard as she’d demanded, his rumbling echoing her cries. Her tightness clamped harder around his length, pouring more red-hot pleasure over his flesh, until she convulsed beneath him.
Seeing her abandon, feeling the force of her pleasure, shattered him. He plummeted after her into the abyss of ecstasy, slid himself all the way inside her and released his essence.
Time ceased to matter, to exist, as he came down on top of her as she demanded, anchoring her after the tumult.
Then he brought her over him, a drape of satisfaction, everything he wanted wanting him back, and back in his arms.
“Ahebbek, ya joharti. Aashagek. Enti hayati kollaha.”
She jerked at the words he whispered against her cooling forehead. Then she pushed feebly against him, demanding to be released from their union.
It took a moment before he could bring himself to release her, worry replacing satiation and bliss at her agitated breathing and renewed tears, which he was sure didn’t indicate renewed arousal.
“Don’t … say things like that again.” She wiped tears away, half stricken, half furious. “I believe you want me like you’ve never wanted another, but don’t say what you can’t possibly feel.”
He sat up, caught her face in both hands, made her look at him. “That is how I feel. And more.”
Thicker tears overflowed from her reddened eyes. “How can you? How can you love me, worship me, think that I’m all your life? Before today, we had only one night together.”
“We had eight years. And all the years we’ve been apart. I loved you each moment of those.” A sob tore through her as she shook her head, tried to escape his grip again. He wouldn’t release her, persisted. “Why do you find it unbelievable? You loved me each moment of those years.”
She dipped her head, her hair swishing forward in waves that looked like sun rays spun into glossy satin, obscuring her expression. “I … never said I loved you.”
“Yes, because you’re trying not to ‘compromise’ me, or ‘impose’ on me, by keeping this on the level of the senses, and away from the domains of the heart and soul.”
Desert Jewels & Rising Stars Page 71