Photographers were everywhere, and the adoring public here to catch a glimpse of their royal couple, out in droves. Thousands strong, lined on both sides of the street.
Sophia had walked the lines like an automaton, her knees shaking, her stomach in knots, her every thought on what had just happened.
Come to my room tonight, Sheikha.
Her stomach looped at the very idea that within hours they would be back at the palace and she could be in his arms once more, finishing what he’d just started.
And not finished, Sophia reminded herself forcefully, her lips compressing to form a grim line in her face. How dare he stir her up like that after two days of nothing and leave her without the big bang? She might be new to the whole sex thing but that smacked of bad etiquette.
She lifted her head, incensed, and across the street, where he was speaking with someone in the crowd, he turned to her at the same time. Their eyes met and Sophia would have sworn lightning struck from him to her. Localized and intense, it seared her nerve endings, but she couldn’t back away. She stared at him and he at her and then someone asked her a question, a child handed her a teddy bear, and she was jolted back to the present.
But her nerve endings were firing and her pulse was racing. She was humming with anticipation.
She needed … what?
She needed him.
The realization slammed against her sides and she hated it. She hated that for all his failings, all his faults, she needed this man with a visceral, undeniable ache.
It would have been so much easier if she’d married Addan. Darling Addan, who had been so kind and good, and uncomplicated; who had loved her like a sister. But that love had been just what Sophia had craved all her life. Dependable, steady, safe, not-going-anywhere love.
But he was gone. Nothing was safe, nothing was foolproof, least of all the future.
She forced a smile to her face as she moved down the line until she’d circled back and Malik was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs that led to parliament. It was a balmy evening, the sky tinged with purple and gold, and a red carpet was running down the steps all the way to the street. Candles were lit on the front of the building, enormous and flickering in the fading light.
At her side, he put a hand in the small of her back and shocks of desire arrowed through her veins, all the way to a heart that was beating far too fast.
She resisted the impulse to look at him, keeping a firm smile pinned to her face, lifting a hand and waving at their people. Huge signs were waving in the evening air, some with her photograph, others with her name. Whatever her husband might think of her suitability to be Sheikha, it was not – apparently – a sentiment the population of Abu Faya shared.
“I think education is a cornerstone of any civilized society.” The Sheikha’s voice carried to him even though she was across the room, and he was in the middle of his own conversation. It was as though she had the ability to tunnel right down inside of him, to speak to something deep in his being.
He lifted his head, pinpointing her with his gaze, curious as to who she was speaking to – curious and alive with a possessive heat he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Ali Burkhan, a thirty-something investor in the private education sector, and a friend of Malik’s from when they were teenagers.
Ali smiled. “Indeed.”
“Affordable, and accessible education,” she added meaningfully.
He laughed. “Didn’t we speak about this on the yacht last summer,” Ali drawled, leaning a little closer, so that something inside Malik fired. He didn’t catch the rest of what Ali was saying and now he wished to be nearer to his wife and friend, to be a part of their conversation.
“Excuse me.” He nodded curtly towards the couple he’d been exchanging pleasantries with. The royal couple had been at this affair for three hours. Parliament had officially welcomed his wife, and now he wanted to have her all to himself again.
“And nothing in your policies has changed,” she was murmuring, smiling, an easy, natural smile that was remarkable for two reasons. Her smile was one of the most beautiful things Malik had ever seen. And looking at it now, Malik realised she’d never smiled like that for him.
It was no surprise. They were generally arguing with one another, and yet, he realised now how often she’d smiled and laughed with his brother. How easily she smiled now.
His stomach tightened but he didn’t approach them. He hovered just outside of their range, looking without interrupting.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that,” she added for good measure, the lightness to her tone drawing him in, warming him.
“Have you been checking up on me?”
“Well, your website at least,” she winked, and Ali laughed – Malik, on the other hand, was not amused. He knew enough of his wife’s easy nature to know she wasn’t flirting. Charm came easily to her – she did it without thinking, reflexively. But that didn’t lessen the impact it had on Malik.
Suddenly, as though lightning had pierced his soul, splitting him clear in two, he remembered how close Sophia had come to marrying another man. How he had been so close to living his whole life like this – looking at her from the outside, watching her smile and laugh, with no right to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her, to make her cry his name out.
And a dark, angry guilt churned through him, because his own brother’s death was the only reason they were married. Had Addan lived, she would be his by now, perhaps rounded with his child in her belly.
Frustration gnawed at his insides. She was his wife – it was done. Finished. No matter what should have been her life, they’d found themselves here.
“I think you’ll find, your highness, that we’ve widened our selection criteria and dropped the age of applicants.”
“I did notice that,” she conceded.
“And it is a step in the right direction, yes?”
She tilted her head to the side, feigning deep-thought. “I suppose so,” she murmured, a dimple in her cheek flashing when she grinned at Ali. “But don’t think this lets you off the hook. I’ll be watching you.”
Ali dipped his head forward in a bow. “And I hope to earn your approval.”
Malik stepped closer and Sophia lifted her head, a smile still on her face when she looked at him.
“It is time to leave.”
Her smile disappeared completely.
“Mal,” Ali extended his hand and Malik shook it. Ali was one of the few people who referred to him so casually – and it didn’t occur to Malik to mind. “How’s it going?”
“Fine.” He nodded in curt acknowledgment.
“Her highness here was just trying to guilt me into opening up my scholarship program one-hundred-fold.”
“And I’ve explained why,” she turned back to Ali, smiling once more, though with an air of constraint now. “You have no idea what potential you are limiting by not granting scholarships to intelligent, gifted, but financially impoverished students. What if the person who will cure cancer for good is living in one of the slums to the east?”
“Well, the slums, majesties, rather fall into your domain,” he pointed out archly.
Malik shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It isn’t an easy problem to address.”
“I am only teasing your wife, Mal,” Ali grinned, and Malik was impatient now for this to be at an end.
He lifted his hand to Sophia’s back and felt her tremble in response, and he understood. Heat blazed between them, just as it had in the limousine earlier that evening, just as it always did. Her eyes lifted to his and despite the easy exchange she’d just shared with Ali, there was tension in her expression now. Tension that he understood, because he felt the same.
“Are you ready to leave, your highness?” He murmured, running his fingers over her spine, feeling each ridge, each bump, each little intake of breath. The rest of the world dropped away. Ali was no longer there, nor were the other members of parliament.
; She nodded wordlessly, her eyes locked to his, and smiled. A tight smile, forced, nothing like the easy expression she’d offered Ali a moment earlier.
“Then let us leave. Excuse us, friend,” he murmured to Ali, steering Sophia away from the crowds, his expression one that didn’t invite interruption. The doors were opened for them by servants and they moved down the stairs. People were waiting, and they cheered as Sophia and Malik emerged. She smiled, lifted a hand a little to wave, but otherwise stayed right where she was, her body molded to his side, so close he could feel her breathing.
And he kept his hand clamped around her waist, glad she was at his side, but knowing he’d be gladder still when she was in his bed.
Chapter 7
“HOW DO YOU KNOW Ali?”
They’d left parliament at least ten minutes earlier and neither of them had spoken. Sophia’s heart was in her throat, desire hot and desperate between her legs. She blinked across at her husband, his question unexpected. All she could do was hold her breath and wait – wait to be back in the privacy of the palace and in his arms.
“Through Addan,” she said simply.
But it wasn’t simple. At least, not for Malik. “You mentioned last summer?”
“We spent a week on a yacht with him and some other friends,” she said, shaking her head. “Only a few months before…”
His eyes swept her face thoughtfully. “You and Addan travelled together, and still your relationship never became sexual?”
Heat filled her cheeks. “No.”
“How did he explain that? You had your own rooms, I presume, on this yacht?”
“Addan didn’t explain anything,” she said, stiffly, defensively, when she knew she didn’t need to defend Addan to his own brother. She sighed, turning to look out of the window. “I think it was just accepted amongst our friends that we were waiting until we were married.”
The words hung awkwardly between them.
“That’s absurd.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the twenty first century and you’re two consenting adults…”
“Yeah, well, I think it’s romantic,” she said quietly, not willing to hear anything approaching criticism of Addan. “And are you so very different? Would you not have expected your wife to be some innocent virgin?” Her cynicism was evident in the tone of her voice.
“Until the night my brother died, I had no intentions of marrying anyone.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He frowned. “Why would I?”
“I… because it’s what you do? Because it’s… family?”
“We’re all born alone, Sophia. We die alone. Why commit myself to someone for the rest of my life when I can do what I want? I like freedom. I like… independence.”
Something fogged in Sophia’s mind. A long-ago conversation with Addan.
“He scares me.” She whispered, beneath the sheets, the torch they’d brought with them casting shadows around them.
“Who, Malik?”
“Yes! He’s so… big and he never smiles.”
“People who feel deepest are often the slowest to open up. He doesn’t smile – that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. And it certainly doesn’t mean you should be afraid of him. My brother is a good man, Sophia. A better man than I am, and he would have made a far better Sheikh too, except in one vital way.”
“What’s that?” She’d whispered, even though they were alone.
“He will never do what he’s told – and sometimes, as King, you have to.”
She’d been thirteen. The conversation was so clear that for a moment she felt like she was slipping down a slope, with nothing to grab onto.
“How come you married me?” She asked, her heart skidding to a stop in her chest.
Malik stiffened beside her. “Because I inherited the throne.”
“And me,” she nodded, pushing that aside. “But you didn’t want this.”
“No.” He spat the word with such vehemence she was surprised it didn’t hurt more.
“Marriage to anyone? Or me, in particular?”
He turned to look at her, his dark eyes swirling with emotions she couldn’t comprehend. “You were my brother’s fiancé,” he said, after a long pause. “He loved you to the ends of the earth. How could I ever want this?”
Her stomach squeezed. They’d been married a little over a fortnight and the idea of him not wanting her, made her feel as though her lungs were filling with sand. She bit down on her lower lip and looked forward.
“I didn’t want to marry anyone,” he said, after a moment, “But my brother’s death put the Kingdom in a dangerous position. Not having another living heir means the throne would pass, upon my death, to a distant cousin with ties to questionable organisations. The order of succession must be protected.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “And you were here, legally mine, whether I wanted that or not.”
Pain shimmied inside of her. Desire, hot between her legs, was a traitor now, a sensation she didn’t want, something she didn’t relish. She drew in a gulp of air; it barely reached her lungs.
“I’m sorry you have to endure this, then,” she said coldly, looking away from him.
She heard his exhalation. “It is you who has to endure this. Marriage to a man you didn’t choose, this should never have been your fate.”
“I did choose this,” she said simply. “I chose all of this.”
They didn’t speak the rest of the way to the palace.
At the entrance to the family suites, he put a hand in her back, guiding her towards his room. She didn’t resist, and he was glad. There’d been a part of him that thought, despite the sexual heat buzzing between them, their conversation in the car might have killed her need for him.
It hadn’t.
He pushed his door open and as soon as they were inside, her hands found his chest, her fingers splayed wide as she pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes and kissed him.
It was a kiss of fire and anger, dark emotions making her lips mash his, her tongue move furiously. And he understood.
This was all darkness between them. No wonder she didn’t smile for him.
Even their passion was born of a dark place. It was possessive and resented.
Neither of them wanted to feel this, and yet they did – and it was overwhelming.
He swore in his own language, untying his robes with one hand, fumbling a little as he slipped them from his body, pushing out of his briefs at the same time so he was naked, and desperate to see her naked too. But he was more desperate for her. He needed her in a way that was like fire in his gut.
He grabbed her hips and lifted her, pushing at the layers of her skirt, finding the briefs he’d slipped aside so easily earlier that night.
“Hold this,” He grunted, pushing the layers of skirt into her hand. She took them from him and now he lifted her and kissed her, pushing her back against the cold, hard wall behind him. He spread her legs, his strength great, her body slender. He wrapped her legs around his waist, his eyes watching hers as he nudged the tip of his arousal at her sex.
“Do you want me?” He demanded, his eyes latched to hers.
She laughed, but it was a tortured, rasping sound. “What do you think?”
“I want you to scream my name when you come,” he dropped his mouth to her throat, nipping her flesh there, smiling when she groaned. He pushed his erection forward slightly, and she cried out, ‘yes’, over and over, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“Yes, what?” He pulled back.
“Please,” she groaned, digging her ankles into the small of his back in an attempt to pull him deeper.
“Beg me,” he said simply.
“Why?”
Because you were my brother’s in every way except this. Because I alone make you feel this. Because I want you to admit that in this way, we own each other.
“Because I say so.”
She bit down on her lip and rolled her hips, her arousal at fever pit
ch.
He could feel her trembling and knew her release would be swift and powerful. He wanted to give her that, he wanted to make her come hard and fast and then he wanted to tease and torment her body all night long, bringing her to the point of explosion again and again until finally letting her fall apart.
“You’re such a bastard,” she groaned.
“A bastard you want inside you.”
She rolled her hips again. “Yes. Damn it, yes. Please, Malik, please.”
His chest burst with an explosion of relief and he thrust into her, so hard and fast that he felt some of his own seed drop into her. With the utmost control, he steadied himself, holding his own pleasure at bay as he thrust into her again and again, watching as she became incoherent with desire, vowing they would never spend another night apart.
“You are moving to my room,” he grunted, as she called his name, finally, over and over, and he thought he’d never heard anything so sexy. “This is where you belong.”
She screamed when she came, pleasure pulling her apart at the seams, her heels digging into his back, her nails scratching his flesh, her teeth clamping down on his shoulder. She was wracked with heavy breathing, the intensity of their coming together exploding around them.
He held her while her breath stilled, he felt the moment passion overtook resentment and he understood why. He’d never made a woman beg for him – though plenty had.
He’d never used sex as a carrot to entice a woman to do what he wanted. He’d never withheld pleasure as a means to compel someone to carry out his wishes.
He would have been ashamed, except it had felt so damned good.
She pulled away from him, lifting her head, looking over his shoulder, her expression showing she was at war with herself. There was a wariness to her he didn’t like seeing. A sense of uncertainty that he wanted to erase.
“Why did you do that?”
He rolled his hips and she jerked, her eyes slashing to his, heavy with desire and sparking with resentment.
He sighed, lifting her away from the wall without breaking their connection.
Billionaire Brides: An Anthology Page 8