“I’ve been wanting to do that,” she whispered.
Leaning in again, she continued to give him attention with her mouth, her exploration growing bolder as she continued, her noises of pleasure mingling with his.
“Bella,” he ground out, feeling the first shiver of orgasm rack his body. “Stop. Now. I can’t hold back.”
She didn’t stop, and he didn’t possess enough willpower to make her. He could only wind his fingers through her hair as she continued, taking him deep into her mouth, the moist heat surrounding him, pushing him over into the abyss, waves of pleasure coursing through him, sending molten heat through his veins.
Isabella raised her head, situating herself so that her head rested on his stomach, her glossy black hair spilling over his chest as she moved her hand idly over the ridges of his abdominal muscles, over the hard, smooth flesh, scarred in places, but still so beautiful to her. So alive.
She could feel his heart raging, could tell by the fine sheen of sweat on his body how intensely he had been affected by what had just passed between them. She felt as if she had just won a small victory. For a few moments she had held the control, had made him shake with need, had pushed him over into that place where there was nothing but pleasure, nothing but the moment.
“Come here,” he said, his voice husky.
She levered herself up so that her face was even with his, and he cupped her chin, kissed her deeply on the lips before reversing their position so that she was on her back, vulnerable to him now.
His eyes were hot, his pulse beating rapidly at the base of his neck, and she could feel his body hardening again.
Her eyes widened. “You can’t be ready again already. I took biology classes, so I do know some things.”
He chuckled, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He looked younger, more carefree than she’d ever seen him look, and, even as aroused as she was, she felt tears gather in her eyes.
“Give me a few more minutes,” he said, “I’m not quite there yet.”
“Then what …? Oh!” She let her head fall back onto the pillow as he closed his lips over the tip of her breast, sucking it hard into his mouth.
He pulled away, blowing lightly on her damp skin, making her nipple harden painfully, before moving down, kissing the rounded curve of her breast, her ribs, her stomach, the tender spot just beneath her belly button.
His teeth grazed her hipbone lightly, the tiny sting of pain mingled with the pleasure roaring through her body was so erotic that she felt the first wave of orgasm begin to rise up, her internal muscles pulsing, ready for his possession.
“Adham,” she breathed, reaching for his shoulders, trying to bring him up so that she could kiss him, so that she could have him inside her.
“Not yet, amira,” he said, parting her legs, pressing a hot kiss to her inner thigh.
She shivered, her body anticipating the touch of his mouth to her most sensitive spot even before he made the move.
When the heat of his tongue did touch her there, sweeping over her clitoris, she arched beneath him, a sharp cry escaping her lips. Was this what he’d felt when she’d done it to him? So helpless and shaky? Desperate for release and feeling as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff?
He pleasured her that way until her entire body was rocking with wave after wave of pleasure, crashing through her, leaving her spent and breathless.
“Was it that good for you?” she asked, her words labored as she tried to catch her breath.
“Better.”
“That’s impossible.”
She was rewarded with another dark chuckle as he moved to take her lips in a searing kiss.
“Now,” she pleaded, another climax building inside of her. “Please.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and brought her down so that she was on top of him, straddling him. He gripped her buttocks with his big hands as he moved her into position, so that his hardness was nudging the entrance of her body.
She sighed as he stretched her, filled her. There was no pain this time, only pleasure so deep, so intense, it seemed impossible for her body to accommodate it.
They moved together, their breathing building in a staccato rhythm, their sighs of ecstasy filling the air, and when they reached the summit this time they went over together.
“I love you.” The words fell from her lips with ease, straight from her heart. And even though she hadn’t intended to say them she wouldn’t call them back. She did love him. With everything she had. He had made her who she was. He had helped her become a woman—not because he’d taken her virginity, but because he had shown her the importance of putting others before herself, the importance of living for more than her own happiness.
He had made her complete. And if he never loved her in return, she would survive. She could never be sorry that she loved him. He was good, strong, the most wonderful man she’d ever known.
Isabella rested her head on his chest, her cheek pressed against the place where his heart was beating, fast and ragged. Her body was satisfied, but her heart wanted to weep with the need to feel as though it had mattered to him, affected him, put a crack in those walls that surrounded him.
She looked at him, at his face, and saw his expression unguarded for the first time. Raw. Confused. And if he had been any other man she might have thought she saw fear there too.
She put her hand on his cheek, moved in to kiss him, but he derailed her, drawing her to him, wrapping her in his embrace and bringing her to rest again on his chest. It was a caring gesture … or at least it appeared to be. But she knew it was his way of regaining control. Of avoiding conversation.
So she let him. And he didn’t seem to notice the warm tears that fell from her cheeks onto his bare skin.
His arms were tight around her, but as close as he held her, her breasts crushed to his bare chest, she felt there was a gulf between them. A gulf that was there by his design.
Desperate to find some closeness, a connection, she pressed a kiss to the scar that bisected his pectoral, the light dusting of hair tickling her lips. He stiffened, his muscles locking tight.
“I think it would be best if you went back to your own room, amira.”
She looked up at him, at his face, closed off and cold. It seemed to come so easily to him. How did he do it? She was rocked to her core, her entire world tilted off of its axis, and he was detached.
Maybe he was right. Maybe he couldn’t love. But she had a hard time believing that. He was the best man she had ever known. A man who put others before himself constantly. He had sacrificed his life for his country, continued to do so even now that he was the High Sheikh.
But for all of the goodness in him he was so hard, so damaged, she feared she would never reach his heart. She wanted to. She wanted to tear away those barriers if she had to do it with her bare hands, if she had to dig until her fingers bled. She wanted to reach him. Wanted to find the man beneath all the protective layers.
She wanted to heal him, but he didn’t even realize that he was wounded.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, sitting up, not bothering to cover her breasts. It was pointless now. She’d already given him so much more than her body that her nudity was the least of her concerns.
“I do not want any of the staff to find you here.”
“I don’t care.”
“Maybe honor and tradition mean nothing to you—”
“That isn’t fair, Adham.” She climbed out of the bed, unable to be close to him when she felt so angry. “I wasn’t alone that night.”
“I didn’t mention that night.”
“But that’s what this is about. That’s what all of it is about.”
“You were the one who said you wanted it put behind us. Yet you bring it up now, when that it suits you to fight.”
She wanted to scream in frustration. “Well, maybe I don’t know how to handle this. Any of this. I’m so … I’m confused. And we just … we just shared that incredible
experience and you want me to leave!”
His jaw tightened, and there was a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. “Just go, Isabella.”
“You can’t order me around. I thought you’d learned that by now.”
He stood from the bed too, not bothering to cover his body either. His naked physique was enough to make her feel hot, even as angry as she was.
“You are still so young,” he said. “You take everything personally, make it about you. I am guarding your reputation. A virgin princess is expected, required by the more traditional citizens of my country, and I will not bring shame to them with ugly rumors of their Sheikha. Staff are only so loyal when money is offered to give up salacious secrets.”
“But we’re getting married. It isn’t as though—”
“As though we slept together while you were engaged to marry my brother? Do not think we have escaped those sorts of rumors. It is one reason we have stayed here rather than returning to Maljadeed. The press in the city is rabid, and gossip is flying everywhere. Hassan has been open about his desire to marry for love, but our relationship is a source of great interest. I mean to protect your reputation.”
“Maybe I don’t need you to protect my reputation,” she flung out carelessly.
“You feel too much, Bella, with too much passion,” he grated.
“And you feel nothing.”
He turned away from her, his high cheekbones, the square shape of his jaw highlighted by the moon filtering through the window. “It is better that way.”
“I don’t think it is.”
She swooped down and picked her robe up from the floor, embarrassment hitting as she tugged it on. Somehow dressing in front of him and making the walk of shame out of his bedroom felt much more shameful than disrobing for him had.
But to her it had been an act of love, and to him it had been nothing but satisfying his libido.
It was a strange thing how after sharing that kind of closeness with him she seemed to feel more disconnected in the aftermath.
“That’s just more evidence of how naive you are,” he said, his voice hard, unyielding.
“I’m not naive, Adham,” she said, her voice shaking. “You’ve done a very good job of ensuring that I didn’t remain that way.”
She turned and stalked from the room and Adham watched her go, his heart tight in his chest. She was right. He was ensuring she was no longer naive. He was taking everything that was beautiful in her and destroying it. Poisoning it with the ugliness that tainted his life.
And yet there was no other course of action he could take but to keep her with him. She was to be the Sheikha of Umarah—his wife. She had already proven more effective than him at matters of diplomacy. And it would cost her.
That realization sent a shaft of burning pain through his chest more severe than he could ever remember feeling before. He had been numb there for so long he hadn’t imagined himself capable of experiencing that level of feeling. Not anymore.
But Isabella … she made him feel.
I love you.
It was easy to dismiss her declaration. She was young. He was her first lover. And yet, as easy as it would be to use those things to discredit her, the passion, the conviction in her voice, had hit him square in the chest.
He had been shot. Multiple times. Her words had held no less impact than a bullet. They even burned the same.
He didn’t want it to burn. He didn’t want to feel anything.
Emotions couldn’t be trusted. His people needed a leader—someone who led with his head, not his heart.
He had watched his mother lead with her heart, had watched her lose her life because of it. And he had lost her. He would not allow something to hold such sway over him that he would act so recklessly—not when other people needed him. As he and Hassan had needed her.
His chest ached. He ignored it. He could not afford this weakness. Not now. Not ever.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THERE were always reasons for Adham to avoid her in the weeks leading up to the wedding. He had many matters of state to handle, many press conferences and meetings with world leaders. And she was kept busy as well.
Being a sheikha was different than being a princess. In Turan she had done very little in the way of public service, but here there was an endless supply of things to do. She visited hospitals and listened to their needs, then met with the budget committee to discuss providing mobile medical units for the people who lived and worked out in the desert.
She was able to sit in on meetings with the education council and talk about the needs and concerns of the tribe she had met, was able to make it personal. She was making the most of her destiny even if her forced groom didn’t seem to want to be around her.
And now the wedding was tomorrow, and the entire capital city was gearing up for a massive celebration.
They had arrived back in Maljadeed that morning. Adham had been on the phone the entire flight over, avoiding her as best he could in the luxurious cabin of the private plane.
Would he continue to be like this even after the wedding? She hoped not. They did have an heir to conceive after all. She’d found out weeks ago that neither of their times together had gotten her pregnant. But she wanted more than his child, anyway.
She ached for him, body and spirit, missed him with an intensity that took her breath away. But he was so guarded, so closed off, it seemed there was no way to reach him.
She looked down out of the window of her bedroom. Lanterns were being strung in the garden, cords woven together to create a tapestry of light over the lush landscape. It was beautiful, exotic. It was actually the wedding she would have chosen for herself.
Not simply because of the décor, because of the man. For a while she would put aside the knowledge that Adham did not love or want her and simply picture the man of her dreams standing at the head of the aisle, waiting for her, waiting for them to be joined as man and wife. For now reality could take care of itself, and she would hold onto that one image.
There was a sharp knock on the door of her room and she turned quickly. “Come in.”
Her heart descended into her stomach when Adham walked through the door. She had seen him so rarely that the sight of him now sent her pulse racing. Although she knew that even if she had spent all of her time in the past two months with him she would still feel that way each time she saw him. She would never grow tired of him. Of that perfect scarred face that spoke of his bravery, his honor.
In that moment she loved him so much her whole being ached with it.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow,” she said, feeling her throat tighten, her breasts grow heavy with need.
“I have something for you.” He lifted his hand and revealed a small blue box with a round brass pull on top. It reminded her of the door in Paris—the one she’d taken the picture of. She frowned and lifted the lid, her mouth dropping open when she saw the ring that was nestled in ivory silk.
She pulled the ring out and held it up, letting the late afternoon sun play across the jewels. “This is perfect,” she breathed.
Tears stung her eyes as she examined the exquisitely designed piece. The lattice pattern of the platinum mirrored the Eiffel Tower, while the blue gems that were set next to the pear-shaped diamond were the same shade as the box, and her door. It was more than a ring. It was a small piece of her time with Adham. A bit of their history. This really was for her, really from him.
She held it out to him, her hand unsteady.
“Try it on,” he said, his voice hard. “See if it fits as it should.”
She frowned. She had expected him to put it on for her. She hadn’t thought he would get on his knees—not a man like Adham, not for a marriage like theirs—but she had thought he would at least slide it onto her finger for her.
But he didn’t. He only stood there, looking at her with no emotion evident in his dark eyes.
She put it on quickly, relieved when it went on easily. “Perfect,” she sa
id again, her smile forced now.
“There is a wedding band that had been made to go with it, but you will get that tomorrow.”
She nodded, biting her lower lip. “Yes, okay.”
It was his turn to frown. “I still haven’t made you happy.”
She tried harder to force the smile. “You have. I love it.”
“You’re crying.”
She touched her cheek and her hand came away wet. “I.” There was nothing she could say. Not without sounding like a contrary female. And, truthfully, she felt like a contrary female. She had made such an issue over the ring, but now the ring wasn’t enough. What she wanted was his love, and she didn’t have it.
For one moment, seeing the ring, seeing everything that had gone into it, she had hoped. But then she’d seen his face, and her hope had dried up like water in the desert.
“Because it’s so beautiful,” she said, lying. He had his protection in place. She needed some too.
“I’m glad you’re happy.”
“Are you?”
“I am pleased that we are doing such a positive thing for our countries.”
As romantic words went, they wouldn’t win any awards.
I love you.
She wanted to say it. Wanted so badly to tell him how much he meant to her. But she couldn’t. She had already said it once. Already faced his absolute indifference to it. He hadn’t been angry, hadn’t responded in kind, he had simply ignored her declaration. She couldn’t face that again.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said softly, needing him to go now. She couldn’t be with him and not want to be in his arms. She couldn’t stay with him like this and not tell him how much he meant to her. How she loved him more than anything.
He nodded. “Tomorrow.”
She almost said it again. And if he hadn’t looked like a man who was headed toward his execution she would have. Instead she waited until the door closed behind him and more tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I love you.”
Desert Jewels & Rising Stars Page 262