by Lucy Monroe
His wasn’t when he said, “Right now, we’re in the same space.”
It was kind of amazing, really. That he would be alone in a place of privacy with this woman who was a maid, but whom he wanted more than he had any woman in his memory.
Her head tipped slightly and she looked up at him in unconscious sensuality. “We are, aren’t we?”
“It is a moment out of time.”
She laughed out loud. “Arrogant and cheesy. Why do I still want to kiss you?”
He did not understand what she found so amusing. This was a moment that would never be repeated, could never be repeated. Yet he was grateful that destiny had written their meeting—here in this room that would never see his ex-betrothed—into their stars.
“Why shouldn’t you want to kiss me?” he asked, certain he wanted it enough for both of them but aware that if she didn’t he would do nothing about his own desires.
That damnable honor again.
“You think you are too good for me.”
“No.” He was shocked. “I did not say this.”
“What about the whole different-worlds thing?” she asked, sounding hurt.
Which had never been his intention. “That is reality, not a judgment on either of our values as human beings. There are emirs in neighboring countries I would prefer never to have to interact with again.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“And me?”
“It would be my great delight to be able to spend more time with you,” he said with more honesty than he ever offered.
“But?”
“But an emir cannot have even a temporary relationship with a hotel maid. Life is not a fairy tale.” No matter how much he might wish otherwise.
“And you are certainly no Prince Charming.”
The fact she apparently found him lacking bothered him, but he did not understand why it should. “No, I have never pretended to be anything but a man.”
“Who is prince of his people.”
“Exactly.”
She looked at him strangely. “You really don’t mean to be arrogant, do you?”
“No.”
“You are, though. Just in case you ever wondered.”
He found himself laughing. “Duly noted.”
“You’re not offended.”
“Why should I be?”
“Because the opinion of a mere hotel maid doesn’t matter, does it?”
“Of course your viewpoint is important.” More important than he wanted to admit.
“You sound like a politician.”
“I am a politician.” Though not one that could be voted out of office.
Diplomacy was nevertheless very important in his life. He wasn’t being diplomatic with her, however. He meant his words. For reasons he could not identify, her opinion mattered.
“You’re very sexy for a politician.” She sounded surprised by that fact.
Or perhaps it was her own admission of it.
Unable to bank the hunger any longer, he leaned forward. “I am glad you think so.”
“You’re going to kiss me,” she whispered as his mouth was centimeters from hers.
He didn’t bother to give a verbal reply, but pressed his mouth to hers. At first, she acted like she didn’t know what to do, but then her lips softened and she let them mold to his.
And he understood her initial reticence. She’d said she didn’t do one-night stands; naturally, she would have reservations about what was about to happen between them.
With great reluctance, he pulled his lips from hers. “We cannot have more than one night,” he felt compelled to point out one last time.
He was still a man of honor, no matter how inconvenient.
*
Liyah had to process Sayed’s words and what they meant before she could reply. “I know.”
He’d made their short-term incompatibility perfectly clear. And she didn’t care. She’d spent her entire life listening to her mother preach against easy familiarity with men.
Liyah had not dated in high school and only rarely in college, but she’d never allowed anything beyond simple kisses. She’d maintained her virtue on behalf of Hena Amari, to prove something that was forever denied her.
Her daughter’s worthiness to be recognized by the Amari family.
She would never know that acceptance, but she was worthy to carry the Amari name. More worthy than those who would turn their back on Hena because her love for her child was too great to let Liyah go.
Liyah had remained chaste to prove to them all, but most especially Hena, that her mother had raised her better than any of them could have. Proving something to a woman who was irrevocably gone from Liyah’s life, or people who simply did not matter, seemed beyond ridiculous.
Even to her alcohol-addled brain.
She had an entire life of being alone to look forward to. For this night, she would experience intimacy she’d always denied herself and might never know again.
No matter how melodramatic she told herself the sentiment was, Liyah had the distinct feeling no other man after this one would ever suffice.
Was love at first sight real, or was this just lust?
Liyah did not know, but the feelings she had for this arrogant sheikh went beyond anything she’d ever experienced.
She’d always thought her mother had been doing some kind of penance in never dating or seeking out another relationship, but maybe it was even simpler. Maybe Hena Amari had never stopped loving Gene Chatsfield.
And he hadn’t even remembered what she looked like, much less her name.
Pushing those disturbing thoughts away, Liyah focused entirely on the man before her, the one whose kiss had touched her more deeply than she thought possible.
Sayed breathed against her lips, the soft puffs of air brushing them in a gentle caress. “I want to kiss you again.”
She sighed softly. “I’d like that.” A lot.
He didn’t ask again, but put his desires into action, this time placing one hand behind her head. She found the control inherent in the action entirely in line with the man’s nature.
What surprised her was how much she enjoyed it. She liked the way he helped her angle her head for the best connection, but she burned with the way his mouth felt against hers.
It was amazing and sent more sparks of unfamiliar need along her nerve endings. She wanted so much more than just a simple kiss. Not that this kiss felt simple. Decadent, delicious and completely addictive—his lips were lethal to her restraint.
One kiss melted into another until she realized what he wanted as his tongue slid along her lips pressing gently at the seam of her mouth. Liyah let him in and shuddered as the intimacy of their connection went to a whole new level.
He tasted like licorice and…another person. Liyah had never had a man’s tongue slide along her own, had never experienced this level of familiarity with another person’s mouth.
It was erotic in a way she never would have expected, making her want more. More of what, she wasn’t sure.
But definitely more.
He cupped her breast and then she knew. She wanted more of that.
The thin layer of her bra might as well not even be there. Everywhere his hand had contact tingled, sending bursts of bliss arcing through her.
Warm masculine fingers caressed her, kneading her curve and brushing across her nipple. Her entire body went rigid at the electric jolts going directly from her aching peak to the core of her being.
Was this normal? Could ecstasy be this easy to achieve?
All the women’s magazines made it sound a lot more complicated.
He gently pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his tongue playing a mating dance with her mouth she’d never known but recognized nevertheless.
And she realized what she was feeling wasn’t the ultimate in ecstasy. Because it kept building. One pleasure on top of another. Every sensation more intense than the last, her entire
body heating as her blood rushed.
If this wasn’t a climax, she wasn’t entirely sure she was going to survive one.
But, oh, she was willing to try.
Sayed broke the kiss, the sound of their panting breaths loud to her ears. “Are you certain you want this?”
She nodded, unable to get a single word out.
“You understand, tomorrow I am again the emir of Zeena Sahra.”
“But tonight you are just a man,” she reminded him in a desire-laden whisper.
“Yes.” The sound was closer to a growl than a word.
He kissed her again, this time his mouth devouring hers, his hold on her head implacably keeping her lips right where he wanted them. His aggressive passion might have frightened her but for the gentle way he continued to knead her breast and rasp her nipple.
Putting off a lifetime of restraint, she reached out to do some of her own sensual exploration. His skin was hot against her fingertips and smoother than she expected. The black curls of hair on his chest were also surprisingly silky, his small male nipples ridged.
There was nothing soft about the layers of muscle bunching under her touch, though.
Chest, biceps and abdomen cut with defined muscles.
His body was so different than hers.
Sure, there was the male/female thing. But it was so much more than that.
Wearing the egal, or not, Sayed exuded power. He would always be alpha, never the beta. His physical and mental strength was awe-inspiring and in this moment those traits inspired her arousal, as well.
So focused on experiencing his body, she didn’t notice his hands moving at first.
But when he unclipped her bra with a single efficient movement and peeled the lace-and-silky fabric away from her body, she couldn’t ignore that.
Her already-hard peaks pebbled tighter at the direct exposure to air. She’d felt that hundreds of times in her life, when she undressed for bed.
What she’d never felt was the corresponding throb between her legs she experienced now. Or this new need to be touched there.
A desire she could only express with wordless whimpers and the tilting of her pelvis in a wanton display that should have mortified her.
It didn’t.
His big hands slid around her sides and up her rib cage, leaving prickles of arousal in their wake until he cradled both her breasts.
“Lovely.” Approval laced his tone. “A truly sweet handful.”
“You have big hands. So hot,” she rambled.
It was only when his rich laughter washed over her that Liyah realized how her words could be taken.
“I didn’t mean to say I’m…that’s not…”
He brushed his lips over hers. “Shh. You are perfect. We will leave it at that.”
She had no chance to reply as his thumbs swiped over her electrified nipples. She’d thought the thin barrier of silk had made no difference in how these caresses felt, but she’d been wrong. Very, very wrong.
While the sensation of emptiness and need grew in her core, the rest of Liyah’s body grew increasingly sensitive. Heat washing over in wave after wave of unadulterated lust, her skin ached for his touch in a way she hadn’t even known was possible.
He seemed to understand, because his caresses moved on from her breasts to brush over her stomach, along her sides and right up to her underarms. Usually ticklish, the only response this unexpected touch elicited was gasping shivers and a hope he would not stop.
Inundated by sensations so intense she couldn’t hope to distinguish one from the other, she moaned long and low.
His hands tightened into a hold on her waist, his fingers squeezing and releasing in quick succession. “You are so responsive.”
“You make me feel.” Liyah had spent her entire life hiding behind a buttoned-down facade which allowed for almost no emotion.
Feelings were dangerous.
But she’d found an inexplicable, if temporary, safety in this man’s arms.
He kissed along the underside of her jaw, teasing her skin with the edge of his teeth and sending shivers cascading along her nerve endings. “You are far more intoxicating than the ouzo.”
“You, too.” She wished she could be more eloquent, but Liyah had no experience in this kind of talk and had no response but bare honesty.
He didn’t seem to mind her lack of dramatic articulation as he intensified the sensual onslaught of his hands and mouth on her body.
CHAPTER SIX
SAYED PULLED BACK, giving her a probing look with his dark brown gaze. “You are not drunk.”
It was a statement, but there was a question in the espresso eyes that demanded her undivided attention.
Even inebriated, Liyah realized that if she admitted to how inexperienced she was with alcohol, never mind sex, he would stop. The man had an overdeveloped sense of honor.
But regardless if she was a little tipsy, Liyah knew what she wanted. And it wasn’t for him to stop.
“No.” She turned her head, brushing his strong jaw with her lips, inhaling his spicy masculine scent. “If anyone is taking advantage, it’s me.”
There, she’d managed to sound both sober and in possession of her faculties. And honest. Because it was the truth. She’d never been all that and she knew it, but this amazing man wanted to make love with her.
No matter how much he’d claimed to want Liyah before, he wouldn’t have acted on that desire without this particular unbelievable set of circumstances. He’d said it himself.
Their worlds didn’t overlap. Not even a little.
“Then no one is taking advantage,” he stated very firmly as his hands moved to the fastening on her skirt. “I believe it is time to remove more layers of the lives we choose not to acknowledge tonight.”
“Yes.” She didn’t want any reminders of her job at the Chatsfield or why she’d taken it.
Shockingly, Liyah felt no hesitation about taking off the rest of her clothes. Especially as it appeared Sayed was intent on helping her.
Though she’d never been naked with a man before, wasn’t accustomed to exposing her body to anyone for that matter. Hena had raised Liyah to be extremely modest, even among her female peers at school.
A lifetime’s modesty melted under the heat of his desire and she did her best to help him undress, as well.
When they were both completely nude, no outward sign of their usual roles, he nodded with satisfaction. “Perfect.”
“You are.”
He smiled, the expression somehow rapacious. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She was barely aware of what she was saying.
Her mind so preoccupied with the sight of acres of muscular bronzed flesh, she relied on rote response.
He moved toward her with the grace of a predator. “I hope you are ready for this.”
She did, too.
He stopped in front of her. “I am breaking a three-year fast. Prepare yourself. I plan to feast on you.”
Managing a bare nod, she shuddered at the words, but even more at his expression.
With practiced ease, he swung her up into his arms, the naked skin all along one side of her body pressed to his front.
She gasped.
“Couch sex is for when the comfort of a bed is not available.” He swung them around and started walking to the suite’s bedroom.
She didn’t argue, just leaned forward and started placing tasting kisses against whatever skin she could reach.
Salt and unexpected sweetness burst over her taste buds.
The thought of making love for the first and only time with Sayed in the bed reserved for the woman he had intended to marry resonated with a strange sense of rightness.
While Liyah had no hope of ever being that woman, for tonight she was undeniably his.
He managed to pull back the covers and lay her on the bed without dropping her, or even unduly jostling her.
“You’re pretty good at this,” she said as he released her, impress
ed.
Sayed straightened, giving her full view of his amazing body, his expression confused in a way she was pretty sure it never was. “I’m sorry?”
“The whole getting-me-into-bed thing,” she explained. “You were smoother than jazz.”
“Smoother than jazz?” he asked with humor. “Really?”
She shrugged, unworried if her metaphor came off as campy. It’s exactly what she meant. “No music is smoother.”
“Perhaps I should be happy you didn’t compare me to custard.” He stood up.
She giggled and covered her mouth at the unfamiliar sound coming from her. “Maybe.”
He shook his head, but his look was indulgent. He moved to join her on the bed.
“I suppose you have loads of experience carrying women to bed.”
He stopped, sitting on the edge of the mattress, and looked down at her. “Actually, not so much.” His dark gaze smoldered. “You are an exception in more than one way.”
“The whole not-bedding-a-lowly-hotel-maid thing?” she teased, her confidence boosted by her certainty that was exactly what Sayed was about to do.
“Among other things.”
“You’re saying you don’t usually carry your conquests to bed?”
“I cannot think of another instance.”
At his admission, heat poured into places she wasn’t used to feeling anything and she found it hard to continue their repartee. “For three years, anyway.”
“Ever.”
“Oh.” That was…it was just…kind of amazing and more than she wanted to dwell on right now, if she wanted to keep her few working synapses continuing to connect in her brain. “I guess it’s just instinct.”
He laughed, the sound arresting and incredibly sexy.
Her chest felt tight. “Sayed…”
He cursed, his humor disappearing in an instant, replaced by that power-driven intensity she was so drawn to.
“What?” she asked, not sure what she’d done.
“Say it again.”
“I don’t know what you mean?”
He put his hands down and leaned forward, pressing the pillow on either side of her head, his face only inches from hers. “My name.”
His name? Her befuddled brain tried to make sense of his request. “Sheikh Say—”