Secrets of the Oasis

by Abby Green

  A tortured expression crossed the girl’s face, and immediately Jamilah felt contrite. She was only following orders, and in this rural milieu you absolutely did not question the demands of the Sheikh. Jamilah apologised and gave in, knowing she couldn’t do anything else for the moment, ‘Thank you for the bath, and the lotions…but I can do that myself. Why don’t you bring the clothes you’ve been left in here, so I can get changed?’

  While the relieved girl was gone, Jamilah picked up the nearest lotion and smoothed it on as perfunctorily as she could, trying to ignore its heady musky scent and the way her skin tingled to her touch. When the girl came back, looking much happier, Jamilah didn’t have the heart to say anything more about her own things. She would work on getting them back some other way.

  But when the girl opened up the big glossy box with unmistakable reverence, and pulled out a long kaftan-style dress which seemed to be made entirely out of spun silver, Jamilah gasped, transfixed.

  The girl said in awe, ‘It is beautiful, is it not?’

  Jamilah touched it. ‘Yes, very.’ It looked as if it had been made by fairies—a human hand too clumsy for something so ethereal. When it moved, glints of dark blue thread shone like bursts of sapphire.

  And with it came underwear made of lace so delicate it looked as if it would fall apart at a mere touch. The royal blue colour made the pale olive of her skin stand out, and to Jamilah’s constant embarrassment her nipples stiffened against the delicate lace, as if it were a lover’s touch. She hated that she was getting dressed to Salman’s specifications. She hated that she was falling in with his plans. Even as a secret part of her felt the insidious slow curling, burning of desire which, once started, would not rest until it had been sated.

  Once Jamilah was dressed, with the kaftan lovingly clinging to her every curve, the maid brushed her hair until it too shone like spun black silk. Eventually, when her nerves were screaming with tension, the girl was finished, and with downbent gaze she left.

  Taking a deep breath, Jamilah emerged from behind the screen to see Salman’s broad-shouldered powerful physique dominating the doorway of the tent. Instantly her insides contracted with a pulsing of pleasure she couldn’t stop. She gritted her jaw and her hands went to fists by her sides.

  She couldn’t make out Salman’s expression; he was too far away and in the shadows, and all she could think about was how she’d felt him watching her and how she’d touched herself so wantonly. If it even had been him! Liquid heat moistened her still sensitive sex.

  And then abruptly, breaking the moment of tension, Salman strode in. The curtains closed heavily behind him and they were cocooned in this lavish tent, in a remote oasis in the far eastern reaches of Merkazad.

  He stood tall and resplendent in Merkazadi robes by a table which had been laid and was now heaving with succulent-looking food. The smells alone were more enticing than anything she’d ever experienced before, and Jamilah firmly pushed aside the implication that it was because it was here, with him. Because he had done this for her.

  On shaky legs she walked over, her stomach growling with hunger all of a sudden. She refused to meet Salman’s eyes as she approached the table, acutely self-aware in the dress, and she would have kept avoiding his eye if he hadn’t caught her arm in a burning grip and with his other hand tipped her chin up so that she had to look at him.

  Roughly he said, ‘You are more beautiful tonight than I’ve ever seen you.’

  Jamilah bristled when heady pleasure suffused her body at his statement. She tried to block out how gorgeous he was, with a faint line of stubble accentuating his hard jaw, the robes making him look so effortlessly regal and powerful. ‘Well, I hope it’s worth it, after all the trouble and expense you’ve gone to, to get me out here.’

  ‘It’ll be worth it, Jamilah,’ he promised. ‘And the pleasure won’t be mine alone. I’ll make sure of that.’

  Reacting to that promise, and feeling shrewish, she said, ‘Well, you can save me the sordid details of whose pleasure it will be, because you won’t be sharing my bed tonight, Salman.’

  He chuckled softly and let her go, indicating for her to sit down. His easy laughter made her want to bounce something off his head, but Jamilah clenched her jaw and sat down, feeling very huffy and petulant. Alien moods for her—she was usually so calm and controlled.

  It was a struggle for Salman to appear urbane as Jamilah sat down opposite him, refusing to meet his eye. He was harder than he’d ever been in his life, thanks to that little X-rated water show she’d put on. Only the return of the staff to prepare for dinner had stopped him from smashing aside the screen so that he could strip and lower himself into that bath, embed himself between her glorious legs and take her so hard and fast their heads would have been spinning for a week.

  And that dress… It covered her almost as comprehensively as the ubiquitous shirts and jeans she wore, but it shimmered and clung to dips and hollows with a sensuality that made him grit his jaw and curl his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching out to touch her.

  She sent him a skittish little glance, and he saw a pulse beat hectically at the base of her neck. Dark triumph filled him. She could fight this—him—until she was blue in the face, but ultimately she wouldn’t be able to deny her own desire. But for now he forced himself to take control of his libido, and put a plate of different morsels of food together for her.

  Jamilah took the plate Salman handed her, seeing that he had automatically picked all of her favourite foods. Her heart clenched. And then she saw him pour them both some champagne. She quirked a brow in his direction, striving not to remember how it had felt to learn that she’d been the cause of his one lapse of control with alcohol. That he hadn’t been unmoved by his actions after all…

  He smiled and held up his glass, ‘To us, Jamilah.’

  She smiled back sweetly and clinked her glass with his. ‘To me, and the good night’s sleep I’m going to have in this lovely tent, all on my own.’

  He chuckled again and drank from his glass, and Jamilah’s eyes were momentarily transfixed by the powerful bronzed column of his throat. Tearing her gaze away, hating the flush of awareness climbing up her body, she ate—and nearly choked on a plump, succulent prawn when Salman said lazily, ‘I enjoyed our correspondence over the last few days—even if it was a little one-sided, and did leave me somewhat…unsatisfied.’

  Jamilah wiped at her mouth with a napkin. She might have thrown the notes away in disgust, but not until after she’d read most of them with a guilty pleasure. Which Salman had honed in on as soon as they’d spoken on the phone. And she might have slammed the phone down on him, but she hadn’t been able to get him out of her head. She hadn’t been far off touching herself, just as she had in the bath earlier, and she squirmed to remember that now.

  Salman caught her hand across the table, and her gaze skittered to his guiltily.

  ‘Were you thinking of me just now…in the bath? You must have known I was watching…’

  Enthralled and mesmerised, Jamilah could say or do nothing. To agree would mean that she couldn’t turn back from him tonight, because he’d know that he’d turned her on with little more than the thought that he’d been there. In a strangled voice she said shakily, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  He quirked a hard smile. ‘I told you once before I admired your honesty. Lying doesn’t suit you.’

  Jamilah pulled her hand free and continued eating, even though her appetite had spectacularly fled. She was burning up from the inside out. Very aware of Salman lazily feeding himself, imagining his tongue snaking out to catch the juices from his morsels of food, just as hers had to do.

  But, save running out of the tent and causing a furore by seeking sanctuary with one of the village folk, she was stuck. She didn’t know or care where Salman would go tonight, as long as he wasn’t here, but she had a sinking feeling that he’d made no such alternative preparation, despite her assertion.

  She put d
own her napkin and finished the last droplets of sparkling liquid in her heavy glass. The sheer opulence of this whole scene stunned her anew, and she wondered how Salman had got everything here and prepared. She quashed her curiosity, affected a yawn, and stood up, ready to restate her intention to sleep alone.

  Salman stood smoothly on the other side of the table and held out a hand, which Jamilah predictably ignored. Salman quashed the dart of anger and frustration. ‘You know I’m not going anywhere, Jamilah.’

  She looked at him, and underneath the defiance he saw something else—something infinitely more vulnerable that he hardened his heart to. He didn’t want to deal with that. He just wanted Jamilah. And she wanted him. That was all he needed to know.

  He walked over to the sumptuous bed and started to disrobe.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Jamilah’s voice came out as a panicked squeak, and she cursed herself for not sounding more in control.

  Salman turned around, supremely confident. ‘I’m getting ready for bed.’

  ‘But where will I go?’

  He indicated with a hand. ‘There’s a perfectly good bed right here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jamilah hissed, ‘but not while you’re in it.’

  Salman ignored her, and turned away to continue disrobing. In the light of the hundreds of small glowing lamps, bit by bit his impressive body was revealed. And Jamilah could only stand and watch, until he stood there with his back to her, long, lean and powerful. And gorgeous enough to make her throat dry. His back was impossibly broad, and led down to the taut muscular globes of his bottom, and heavily muscled powerful legs.

  It felt like the hardest equation in the world to work out why she had to get out of there so badly. And then he slowly turned around, and her world contracted to this tiny spot on the planet and this tent. And this man and this desire thrumming between them. The air seemed to be hotter, redolent with scents and whispered desires.

  ‘Jamilah…’

  Jamilah was finding it hard to raise her gaze from where it had dropped to take in his impressive erection. A pulse beat through her blood with gathering force. And as she watched, and faintly heard Salman groan, he wrapped a hand around himself, as if unable not to.

  Her legs nearly buckled at the sight of his hand moving back and forth slowly, how the silky skin slipped up and down over the strong shaft and, worse, she could imagine how it felt and was jealous.

  ‘Jamilah…you’re torturing me. I need you.’

  Her gaze lifted with an effort. She felt all at once heady, languorous and energised. It was a combination that had her insides fizzing. But even as she felt her traitorous feet move towards Salman she shook her head, struggling to make a stand, not to give in.

  ‘I…I can’t. I won’t do this. I can’t do this again with you, Salman.’

  On a broken sob which was torn from deep in her chest she turned around to block out the provocative view, to block out temptation. She was shaking all over with reaction, and just knew that if Salman succeeded she would never have a chance to get over him.

  Big hands settled on her shaking shoulders with surprising gentleness and turned her around. To her chagrin she could feel tears prick her eyes, threatening to overflow.

  Salman sounded tortured. ‘Please, Jamilah, don’t cry…’

  A vivid memory of that day by their parents’ graves struck Jamilah then. How Salman had told her not to cry, to be strong. She looked up at him, past and present morphing into one. Her heart beat fast. She loved him. She loved this man with an intensity that eclipsed anything she might have felt before. And it was already way too late to be saved or helped.

  As the tears overflowed and slid down her cheeks at the acknowledgement of that truth, she felt something give way inside herself. How could she walk away from this now? When perhaps this was all she would have to remember? This oasis in the rocky desert, this moment in time…

  Salman’s face looked tortured, his eyes dark with some emotion that made her head reel; it was an emotion he hadn’t revealed before. He said gutturally, ‘I won’t make you do this if it’s going to upset you so much. I never wanted to upset you. I just thought you wanted me as much as I want you…but were fighting it to pay me back…because you know how much I need you.’

  His tenderness undid her completely, and the fact that he wasn’t being autocratic, wasn’t forcing her, made her even weaker against his pull. She trusted him. She trusted that he actually meant what he said—that if she were to ask him to leave her alone he would. He’d walk out of there and let her have the tent to herself. Suddenly it was the last thing she wanted.

  This was what she’d been afraid of—that it would be impossible to resist him now that she knew his deepest darkest self, because she ached so much to take that pain away. Jamilah shook her head on a reflex. He believed that she’d been trying to get some sort of revenge on him? That that had been behind her reluctance to continue the affair? She shook her head again, and put her hands up to Salman’s face and jaw, caressing him. His breath hitched and his body tensed.

  ‘No. That’s not what I was doing, Salman. But I don’t care about that any more. I don’t care about anything but right here and now, and I can’t keep resisting.’

  She pressed close, so that she could feel his erection hard between them. ‘Make love to me, Salman. I need you so much.’

  He waited for a long moment, as if expecting her to laugh in his face, tell him she hadn’t meant it, and then with a growl of triumph his head swooped down and his mouth burnt hers in a searing brand. His arms wrapped tight around her and triumph coursed through Jamilah too, as if the two warring sides of her psyche had battled it out and the stronger side had finally won. She knew in some dim place that she would have to deal with the fallout of this decision, but not right now.

  Right now she needed Salman with a pulsing intensity she’d never felt before. And the vulnerable chink he’d just shown her was the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world.

  With one swoop he smashed aside all her resistance, lifted her up and carried her over to the bed, where he laid her down as if she was the most infinitely delicate and precious thing in the world…

  A couple of hours later Salman was lying on the silken sheets, wide awake, with Jamilah’s hair in a silken caress over his chest and her breasts pressing into his side. One arm was wrapped around her, holding her to him, his fingers near the enticing swell of her breast. Even though he’d never felt more sated in his life, his body was already responding with predictable force. He sighed deeply.

  Jamilah had capitulated, but it didn’t make him feel triumphant or complacent. He’d never known such an unremitting hunger for one woman. The more he got of Jamilah, the more he wanted. And it sent tentacles of faint panic through him. Because how could he leave and get on with his life when Jamilah’s life was here? Seeing her tears earlier had been like a punch in the gut. He knew he shouldn’t have pushed her—knew he shouldn’t have brought her here. But he was weak, and he needed her, and the depth of that need stunned him.

  He refused to believe that his need had grown more acute since the night he’d spilled his guts in Paris, but he was very much afraid that was the case. She was the only person he’d ever told about what had happened to him, and yet his fear of how she might have used that knowledge was eclipsed by this insatiable desire. And of course she hadn’t used the knowledge.

  Jamilah was a slice of sun he was indulging in, and he knew he was on a finite time with her—because she would want a normal life. With someone who didn’t harbour the worst images of degradation and pain. How could she not? His heart clenched ominously when he thought of the children she would have with someone else, and he quashed the scary yearning feeling that rose up.

  When he felt a telling change in Jamilah’s breathing across his skin, he shifted her subtly so that she lay heavily over him, her legs spread on either side of his hips, just above where his arousal ached for more intimate contact.

  The hitch in her br
eathing grew more pronounced as he drew her legs up. Reaching down, he found the sweet moist apex of her thighs, and her chest expanded deliciously against his when he explored her desire.

  ‘Salman…’ she shuddered out on a low, sleepy, husky moan, and that alone nearly drove him over the edge. He found her mouth and plundered the sweet depths, revelling in her sleepily sexy response.

  With a subtle movement he replaced his fingers with his erection and, holding her hips fast, rocked up and into her, thrusting in and out with ruthless precision until her stunning eyes were open, looking into his. After long minutes of stringing out the torture for as long as she could last, Jamilah bit her lip and with her head thrown back splintered around him, sending him careening into an explosion so intense it took long minutes to float back down.

  Sex. He could deal with this. Not the other. He just had to keep it all about sex.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TWO evenings later Salman looked at Jamilah across the table, and she flashed him a teasing glance. He felt something intensely light bubble up in his chest, even as that ever-present desire pounded through him in waves.

  He cursed himself for the clothes he’d brought for her. She was dressed tonight in a softly ruched silk dress, with thin spaghetti straps and a low neckline. It clung to her curves and fell in folds to her knees, revealing her shapely calves and slender bare feet. She was all the sexier for not wearing shoes. Her hair was piled untidily on top of her head and she wore not a scrap of make-up.

  Only that afternoon, as they’d lain in a secret glade by a nearby pool, naked after a swim, she’d leant over him and taken him into her mouth, sending his mind into orbit even as he’d tried to stamp a control on his body that he’d never had to enforce before. But despite his ragged entreaties she hadn’t stopped until he had lost all control and had been at her mercy completely. He’d never forget that self-satisfied sexy grin on her face. As if it was her mission to punish him for bringing her here in the first place.