Heartbreaking and painful.
Despair swamped her so fully and so suddenly that she pulled away from him. Looking up, she fought for composure.
Stars glittered in the sky above, winking at her. The fragrant night with its whispers and taunts seemed like a punishment now. It promised something she could never have.
Warmth coated with his scent reached her back. She tensed as he stilled behind her. Her pulse zigzagged all over at the closeness. He didn’t even touch her.
“Come away with me, Amira. Just for a few hours. I promise you again I would never harm you.”
“It’s wrong.”
“Why?”
“I’m not free to be attracted to you like this. I’m not free to indulge in this...this late-night stolen moment with you. And not just because my father would skin me alive if he found out.” Longing curled through her and she tried to shut it away. “I’m a betrothed woman.”
There was that contained energy within him again. Like walking too close to fire. “Is it your fiancé that...” the words choked in his throat “...that hurt you?”
“No. He...is a perfect gentleman who barely even looks at me. If you ask him what color my eyes are, I’m sure he wouldn’t know.”
“Then who is it?”
“My father. He...his temper gets away with him.”
Whatever it was that made him cover the last step between them, she didn’t care. His arms enveloped her on either side and unlocked her tight grip on the sill.
The graze of his hard chest against her back ripped open a longing inside of her. One, two, three...four seconds before she fell into his embrace. Sensations beat upon her. He was so shockingly hard all over—his abdomen against her back, his thighs resting against the back of hers, his muscular arms wound tightly around her own... He didn’t press the part of him that she wanted to feel most, to her wicked shame.
And yet, she felt consumed by him.
She closed her eyes and leaned back into him. The scent of him filled her every breath. His heart thundered against her back. She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, curious for the feel of him.
His skin was rough and tanned, his fingers long and square-nailed. A dark emerald jewel sat on his ring finger and Amira traced it, too, carving it into memory.
It was the first time in her life that she had been held like this by a man. It was both exhilarating and comforting—just like the man himself.
“Is that why those shadows linger in your beautiful eyes? Because you love this man you are to marry but he does not love you in return?”
“Love? I would settle for acknowledgment as a person. My father is King Tariq’s closest friend. I have been betrothed to Prince Zufar for most of my life.” A bitter laugh escaped from her mouth. “I’m to be the future Queen of Khalia, Adir.
“I’ve been trained, educated, groomed, molded to within an inch of my life to complement Prince Zufar in every way. My life has never been my own. My will can never be mine. My dreams and desires...are not mine.”
Copyright © 2018 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN-13: 9781488083570
Wed for His Secret Heir
First North American publication 2018
Copyright © 2018 by Chantelle Shaw
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