Desert Rogues Part 2

by Susan Mallery

  “Absolutely. I didn’t completely believe it even after I was brought here. The whole prince thing isn’t exactly a part of my regular life.”

  “The life you will return to in a few days?”

  She nodded.

  “Regrets?” he asked.

  She considered the question. “One or two foolish ones.”

  “Why foolish?”

  She motioned to the room. “This is fifteen light-years from where I belong. Reyhan needs to find a wife who will fit into his world.”

  “You let him go easily.”

  Was Murat criticizing or stating the obvious? “It’s what he wants.”

  “And what do you want?”

  Emma thought of her time with Reyhan. How he’d made her laugh and made her ache. Of how her heart fluttered when he was in the room. Of how innocent she had been all those years ago and how she’d let him walk away.

  “I would like to go back and do things differently.”

  “Not possible,” he told her. “Not even for a prince.”

  Jefri returned just then and dinner was announced.

  Emma found herself seated on the king’s left, with Prince Jefri next to her. Murat was across from her. She felt the sharp gaze of the crown prince settle on her more than once as the appetizers were served. She longed to ask what he was thinking and if he would say anything to Reyhan when he returned. Were the brothers close? Did they confide in each other? Did Murat know something of Reyhan’s heart, and if he did, would that information please her or hurt her?

  “The planes are being delivered next week,” Jefri said, sounding pleased.

  “All that training will finally pay off,” the king said. “Are they being delivered to El Bahar, as well?”

  Jefri nodded. “The people from Van Horn will be here by the end of the month to start the integration process.”

  Cleo leaned toward Emma. “Okay, you look confused. El Bahar and Bahania are starting a joint air force to protect the oil fields. Jefri, who has been a flying fool for years, is in charge. He bought a bunch of really fast planes. F-somethings. Anyway, Van Horn Enterprises is a private firm that trains fighter pilots.”

  Sadik sighed. “I’m not sure where to start, Cleo.”

  She straightened. “What? Did I get any of it wrong?”

  Jefri looked at her. “You called me a flying fool.”

  “And?”

  One corner of his mouth twitched. “Never mind.”

  King Hassan looked indulgently at Cleo. “She has given me my first grandchild. Little else matters.”

  Cleo winked. “You gotta like that, right?”

  Emma nodded, thinking that they might be royal and rich and live in a palace, but at heart this was a family like every other. The knot in her stomach untied and faded away.

  Conversation turned to current events and how they impacted Bahania. Emma had long known that Bahania was an American ally, but she was surprised by the close relationship the king and Murat obviously had with the president and several leaders in the Senate.

  They had just been served a delicious chicken dish when one of the servants approached the king and spoke into his ear. The monarch listened, said something back, then looked at Emma.

  “It seems there has been a slight plumbing problem in your suite,” he said. “A pipe cracked and flooded the room. Nothing of yours was damaged, but you’ll need to spend the night somewhere else.” He smiled. “I think we can find a spare bed.”

  She thought of the dozens of rooms in the guest section. “I’m not concerned about it.”

  “Good. I have asked for your belongings to be packed and moved. After dinner I’ll escort you to your new quarters myself.”

  “Thank you.”

  The meal lasted another two hours. When it was over, Emma felt so full, she could barely move. The king made good on his word and walked her to her new room.

  “I hope you’re enjoying your stay in my country,” the monarch said as they turned a corner and started down a long corridor.

  “Very much. What I’ve seen is so beautiful. And everyone has been so kind.”

  “Even my son?”

  She glanced at him. He was tall, with a slight graying at his temple. In his dark suit he looked both regal and powerful.

  “Especially Reyhan.”

  “I was sorry he could not dine with us tonight.”

  Emma agreed, but didn’t want to say that. “He has responsibilities.”

  “He takes them seriously,” King Hassan said. “As do all my sons. But in Reyhan’s case, perhaps too seriously.”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant, but before she could figure out a polite way to ask, they stopped in front of a large door.

  “You will be staying in here,” her host told her. “I hope you will find the room to your liking.” He smiled and left.

  Emma opened the door and stepped inside. The quarters were larger than her own had been, but more spartan. There were no overstuffed sofas and lush paintings. Instead the room was filled with simply designed pieces in muted earth tones and the artwork leaned more toward sculptures with a few boldly colored abstracts for contrast.

  She turned on several lamps and walked around the living room. Something about it made her feel…not uneasy, just odd. The room was almost familiar. How strange. Had she seen it when she and Reyhan had toured the palace? She didn’t remember any guest rooms being on their tour. Had she seen one similar?

  She walked into the bedroom. The huge bed rested on a platform. Massive pieces of furniture filled the space without crowding her. Again the colors were muted but not—

  She froze in place. There was a book on a nightstand. An open book. Quickly she crossed to the closet and pulled at the double doors. Dark suits lined one side of the closet. Built-in shelves were home to shirts, sweaters and shoes. Her own newly purchased wardrobe filled the other side of the closet. She fingered the sleeve of the closest suit and knew exactly who owned it.

  Reyhan.

  The king had moved her in with her husband.

  Emma sighed, not sure what to do with the information. Should she protest? Request another room? Was King Hassan testing her? Testing them? Even with Reyhan gone, she felt that she didn’t belong in his rooms. They had never lived as man and wife. This felt too…intimate.

  In the bathroom she found her cosmetics on the same counter as his shaver. Two bathrobes hung by the large glassed-in shower. As if they had always been together.

  Not sure what to do, Emma decided she would stay the night, then speak with Cleo in the morning. Perhaps the other woman would know what was going on and what Emma should do about it. In the meantime, she would simply pretend all this was real and that this was where she belonged.

  Reyhan arrived back at the palace shortly after midnight. The same demons that had driven him away had forced him to return. He had to see her, touch her, breathe the same air she breathed. The need inside of him had grown until he couldn’t eat or sleep. He could only want.

  He took the stairs two at a time. When he reached the second floor, he walked toward the guest wing. But as he approached her door, he slowed his step until he stopped several feet away.

  What was he going to do? Break down the door and take her? He closed his eyes and shook his head. No. He would be strong. Just a few more days and she would be gone. He was back in the palace now. Within a few feet of her. That would be enough. He would retreat to the safety of his own rooms and figure out a way to survive until she was gone.

  Retracing his steps, he made his way to the other side of the building and let himself into his suite. He shrugged out of his jacket and left it on the back of the sofa. As he loosened his tie, he walked into the bedroom, only to come to a complete stop.

  He was not alone.

  A woman lay in his bed. In the moonlight streaming in from the open French doors he could see a bare arm, the curve of a cheek and dark hair tangled on a white pillow.

  His heart stopped for a full second, then
resumed at a thundering pace. His body heated as blood raced down to his groin. He was instantly hard and ready to take.

  Emma was in his bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Reyhan told himself to leave, to back out of the room before she awoke. As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t have her. Not now, not ever. But he couldn’t move. The passion was too strong. He could only stand in place and drink in her beauty.

  He must have made a sound, or perhaps she sensed his presence, because she stirred, turned over then opened her eyes.

  “Reyhan?” she asked, her voice sleepy. She pushed her hair out of her face and raised herself on one elbow. “What time is it?” She glanced at the clock, then back at him. “I’ve only been asleep for a couple of seconds. I thought…” She blinked. “Wait. What are you doing here?”

  “This is my room.”

  “What?” She glanced around. “Oh.” Her breath caught. “Oh! Right. I, ah, I had dinner with the king and your family and while we were eating someone came and told him that a pipe had broken in my suite. So he said he would put me somewhere else. Which turned out to be here. I thought it was weird, but it was late and I figured I would just stay here until morning, then straighten it out. I didn’t think you’d be back tonight.”

  Of course she didn’t. He hadn’t told her when he would return. But he’d told his father who had most likely arranged for him to find Emma sleeping in his bed. While he was curious as to why his father wanted to tempt him with Emma, he was more concerned about the temptation itself. He had to get out of here before he said or did something he would regret. Before he gave in to the hunger consuming him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up and drawing her knees to her chest. “I should have said something right away. I can go find somewhere else to sleep.”

  She started to climb out of the bed. He caught a glimpse of semitransparent fabric and sensuous curves.

  “Don’t,” he said, turning away and staring blindly out the French doors. “Just stay there. I’ll leave.”

  “But this is your room.”

  “Tonight it is yours.”

  Tonight and always, he thought, knowing he would never forget seeing her there. In the morning, when she was gone, he would haunt the rooms, searching for some hint of her presence, some clue that she’d been there at all.

  “How were your meetings?” she asked.

  “They went well.”

  “Did you really have to go, or were you just avoiding me?”

  The softly worded question surprised him. The Emma he remembered would never have been so bold. He returned his attention to her and found her sitting cross-legged, staring at the sheets.

  “I was avoiding you, but not for the reasons you think.”

  Her chin lifted and her eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”

  Perhaps it was the night. Perhaps it was the ache inside of him, an ache that grew and fed on his soul. Perhaps it was the hint of sweetness in the air, the scent of which could only come from Emma. Perhaps it was madness. Regardless of the reason, he decided to speak the truth.

  “I cannot be around you without wanting you,” he said. “Rather than give in, I went away.”

  Understanding dawned slowly. The soft light of the moon didn’t allow him to see her blush, but he imagined it. She swallowed, then shrugged.

  “Oh. I, ah…” She cleared her throat. “You mean sex.”

  Her acceptance nearly made him smile. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to act casually or if she was truly unsurprised by his admission. What had she learned in their six years apart and who had been her teacher?

  “I prefer to think of it as making love, but, yes.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I guess it’s a guy thing,” she said. “I never understood all the fuss.”

  He did his best not to react to her words, not to hope too much. “Your lovers have not pleased you?”

  Her nose wrinkled. “I’ve sort of avoided the whole man-in-my-bed thing. It’s not my style.”

  Two warring thoughts invaded his brain and produced two very different reactions. First was pleasure and relief that she hadn’t been with anyone else. That she was still only his. The second was stung pride that he hadn’t satisfied her when they’d been together. He knew now that he’d been too intent on his own release, on claiming her over and over. He hadn’t taken the time to pleasure her.

  “Not that it’s your fault,” she said, interrupting his internal battle. “I was too young. We went from kissing, to, well, you know, too fast for me. You were right about what you said before, that I wanted a schoolgirl’s courtship with kisses and presents.”

  So hard that he thought he might explode, Reyhan forced himself to walk to the chair close to the bed and sit down.

  “You were a virgin,” he told her. “That fault lies with me. I was young and eager to take my bride. Too eager.”

  She ducked her head again. “Yes, well, it happens.”

  “It should not have happened that way. The women I had been with before had been older and more experienced. They had been the teacher and I the student. With you…” He clenched his teeth. “I should have been more patient, more understanding. I should have seduced you with slow kisses and soft touches. Only when you were begging for more should I have taken you.”

  A shudder rippled through her body. “That sounds nice,” she whispered.

  The slight quaver in her voice told him she was not unaffected by his words. The knowledge nearly propelled him to his feet and across the room to the bed. What would happen if he slid in beside her? Would she welcome him? Want him? Respond to him? Every cell in his body screamed for him to find out.

  No! He could not. He knew the price of being with her again. A single moment of exquisite pleasure followed by a lifetime of wanting what he could not have. Better to not have her at all.

  He forced himself to stand but not approach, and nearly shook with the intensity of his feelings. “Good night, Emma,” he said as he turned away. “Sleep well.”

  “Reyhan, wait.”

  A rustle of sheets told him she had slid out of the bed. Her footsteps made no noise on the thick carpet but he felt her approach.

  His blood boiled, his erection throbbed. It was more than he could bear and yet he did not turn around. He would not do this. No matter how much resisting cost him.

  “Before,” she whispered, her voice low and husky. “When you kissed me. It was different.”

  He thought of her passion, of how she’d clung to him, demanding as much as he. They’d fit together perfectly. Everything about her had called to him, yet he’d forced himself to pull back.

  “It was different,” he agreed.

  “I’m not that child anymore.”

  Five simple words—an invitation to paradise.

  He heard them and was nearly afraid to believe.

  It doesn’t matter, he told himself desperately. Taking her now, making love with her, would be a disaster. How would he let her go? How would he marry someone he didn’t care about and live with her for the rest of his life? What of his future, his plans? What of being strong?

  What of Emma?

  Without thought, he turned slowly and stared at her. She stood only a few feet away, naked except for the diaphanous silk nightgown skimming her curves. Her long auburn hair tumbled over her shoulders; the curling ends lightly teased the tops of her breasts. Her eyes were bright, her lips slightly parted, her breathing rapid.

  He told himself he could still resist her, and he nearly believed himself. Until she walked closer, raised herself on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to his.

  The soft, gentle, chaste pressure undid him. It was as if the savage beast inside had been set free to prey upon the world. He grabbed her and pulled her close, wanting to touch everywhere at once. As his mouth settled on hers, he rubbed her back, her hips, then her fanny. He could feel the smoothness of her skin under the thin gown, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more.


  Tilting his head, he swept his tongue across her lower lip. When she parted for him, he plunged inside, stroking, exploring, needing. At the same time he tugged on the fabric of her gown, pulling it higher and higher until it bunched in his left hand. With his right, he stroked the now-bare skin of her hips, then slid up her back. She shivered and wrapped her arms around him.

  He ground himself against her, rubbing his arousal against her belly. She flexed into him and moaned softly.

  He let the nightgown fall back to her ankles and raised his hands to her shoulders. The thin straps slid down easily. He moved from her mouth to her jaw, then her neck, tasting her skin, licking, sucking, nip-ping. He bathed her long, slender neck with sensual attentions that made her shudder and cling to him. He bit her shoulder, then licked the wound.

  The silk clung to her breasts, but one quick tug drew the fabric over her tight nipples so that it fluttered to the floor. Then she was naked.

  Torn between looking and touching, he bent down and took her nipple in his mouth. He circled his tongue around the hard peak and she groaned her pleasure. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders and the other around his neck. Her fingers tunneled through his hair.

  “Reyhan,” she breathed. “It’s too good. All of it.”

  Her words were like icy water thrown in his face. Reality crashed in on him as he realized what he was doing. Taking her hard and fast. They weren’t even in bed. He was still fully dressed. Had he learned nothing?

  Reyhan swore under his breath, which didn’t bother Emma nearly as much as when he stopped what he’d been doing. He straightened, leaving her nipples damp and achy. Everywhere he’d touched, she burned. Tension tightened her muscles and made her tremble. She didn’t even mind that she was naked—not as long as he kept touching her.

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed.

  She stared at him, at his dilated dark eyes and the firm set of his mouth. “For what? I liked it.”

  One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile. “I’m glad you liked it but my plan was to seduce, not take.”

  “Taking works. Really.”