by Laura Wright
The warmth that had dwelled within her earlier, in the tub and standing with Sakir in front of her mirror, returned. Smiling, she stood up and took his hand. “Well, a little hypnotizing sounds good.”
Yes, it did, Sakir thought as he led Rita down the hall, toward the back of the house, through a massive open-air atrium and out into the night.
Anything to ease the tension that had surged through him at dinner, in the presence of his brother.
At the entrance to the grounds, he stopped and watched Rita as she took in all fifty-seven acres of magnificence. Or what he’d always referred to as his childhood playground.
The thought made Sakir smile. He’d had a good childhood, for the most part.
“Wow,” he heard Rita utter from beside him.
“What?”
She pointed to their right. Sunset was creeping silently into the rose gardens, with fingers of red and burnished orange hovering above the rare trees, shrubs, conifers and palms beyond.
Sakir released the breath he’d been holding since landing in Emand.
He was home.
Truly home.
Where the palace had always served as a watchful keeper, the gardens had been his sanctum.
“This is just amazing,” Rita said.
“There is much to see,” Sakir said, guiding her down the stone pathways to the medicinal gardens, rock wall and succulents.
“I feel as though I’m stepping into another time, as though this is sacred ground,” she said with a lilt to her voice. “Does that sound crazy?”
“Not at all.” Sakir led her over a bridge and toward one of the many glass atriums and lath houses that were used for indoor plants. “This garden was started thousands of years ago, so you are right about stepping into another time.”
A perfectly kept stand of fruit trees followed, the tart scent of fresh lemons heavy in the air. Then orange and plum. It was like Eden. Yes, a true biblical setting, and Sakir wondered how many sins he was willing to commit to have the woman beside him.
“Let’s stop for a moment,” he suggested.
The sounds of the garden, the insects and the wind in the desert beyond filled the disquiet between them.
“Sakir,” Rita said quietly.
“Yes?”
“Do you think your brother suspects that we’re not…”
“Truly husband and wife?”
“Yes.”
“I am not certain.” At that, he turned to face her. His gut twisted violently. She was so beautiful, with her skin glowing in the light of the sunset and her eyes filled with a longing he knew all too well. “But I do think he believes we are lovers.”
She looked surprised. “Why? We really don’t show any signs of being lovers.”
This brought a smile to Sakir’s face. No doubt Zayad had seen Sakir’s covetous manner and sensuous gaze whenever he looked at Rita.
“And what would those signs be, Rita?”
She smiled, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Looking at each other with desire in our eyes, bathing together, holding hands.”
He grinned, his hands closing around hers as he moved closer to her.
She chuckled. “Now, if he’d have seen the kiss at our wedding, he’d have known we’re not lovers.”
“Yes, that was rather formal.”
“Yeah, it was.”
Without checking his actions, Sakir reached out and touched her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “It was not the kiss I had intended.”
She tipped her chin up. “Really?”
He shook his head slowly. “The kiss I had intended would not have been suitable for others to view.” Sakir eased her into his arms. “Shall I show you?”
“Sakir…”
With his mouth inches from hers, he said, “You may tell me no at any time, Rita—tell me to release you.”
She looked tormented and as on fire as he was. “There is no command this time?”
“Only from you.”
“Then,” she said, her breathing labored, “I want you to kiss me.”
He smiled.
“We’re breaking the rules…”
“Yes,” he said before covering her mouth with his own.
Seven
Rita melted against him, her knees turning to water as every nerve in her body flooded with desire. In her mind, she’d imagined this—standing hip to hip with Sakir, her breasts crushed against his chest as he made love to her mouth with reckless abandon.
But nothing in her fantasy had prepared her for the decadence of reality.
Or with how highly skilled her fantasy lover truly was.
Sakir kissed her with severity, his passion desperate as his hands raked up her back, his fingers digging into her neck as he held her steady. Rita could do little but shiver and moan with the sweet force of his movement.
As the sunset turned to quiet twilight around them, Sakir turned Rita to liquid both inside and out, his tongue moving between her lips slowly, tasting her need. Then, when she’d had enough of his playful torture, when she’d whimpered and thrust her hips up against his erection, he feasted on her mouth once again.
He crushed her lips, then eased back into soft, wet kisses.
Rita moaned, her body begging for his—on top of her, beneath her, it didn’t matter as long as they were naked and close.
Lord, it had been so long since a man had touched her this way, held her so tight that she felt his heart beating against her breasts. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be wanted.
Years ago, she’d given her body to a man she’d thought she was in love with. But her judgment had been skewed by hope and a young woman’s romanticism. Her lover had used her for just one night and then dropped her flat. Something had closed around her heart that day. She’d allowed herself only fantasies since then.
Until now, that is.
Until Sakir.
As if hearing her thoughts, Sakir pulled her even closer, changing the angle of his kiss. His mouth felt so hot, so warm as he raked his hands down her back, down, down until he cupped her backside.
Rita whimpered. Her breasts tingled, and between her thighs a fire raged. She thrust her hips against him once more. She wanted to say, “Take me. Make love to me now before I melt right here.” But she didn’t want to move her mouth from his.
She hoped her body spoke for her.
But the only one to speak was Sakir. And his word was a muffled oath against her mouth.
“What?” she whispered, still deep in a passion-filled haze. “What’s wrong?”
“We have company.” Sakir straightened slowly, his eyes still on Rita, and still burning with danger and unquenched desire. “They will be upon us momentarily.”
Breathlessly, Rita fought for her composure as she heard the sound of male laughter behind her.
“Maybe we should go inside?” Rita suggested, desperate to hold on to the heat of the moment. Yes, they could go upstairs—undress each other quickly, lie down in their bed, beneath those luscious silk sheets, and continue what they’d started here.
“Yes,” Sakir said, his gaze shifting to the palace doors.
Rita reached for his hand, but he moved away. A chill moved through her.
“You are right,” he said, a coolness to his tone as well. “Let us move inside. I fear I have neglected my work long enough.”
It was as though a knife had been thrust into Rita’s heart. Sakir had completely misinterpreted her suggestion. But if it was pointed or by accident, she didn’t know. Though honestly, she didn’t really want to know.
“I wasn’t talking about work, Sakir.” She tried once again to take his hand. “There’s so much more to life than work, Sakir.”
“Not for me,” he said proudly, taking her hand and slipping it into his arm.
Rita felt herself nod. Her mind and body were floating somewhere between lust and shock; she fought for the light of reality. She knew she needed to see the truth here—that she’d just been reject
ed. Sure, she’d felt this kind of brush-off before, but with Sakir it felt so much worse.
A moment ago, he was making love to her mouth.
Sakir led her away from the lemon grove and toward the house. “I must apologize, Rita.”
“What for?” she asked roughly, though she already knew the answer.
“I went too far, took things to a place they were never meant to go.”
His words bit into her, but she remained poised. “I went there with you, Sakir.”
“Yes, but there is a difference—”
She wouldn’t let him finish. She stopped just outside the doorway and faced him, her chin lifted. “I enjoyed myself back there. I’m sorry you couldn’t allow yourself to do the same.”
A muscle under his eye twitched, his lips thinned. “You can find your way back to the suite? Or shall I escort—”
Rita shook her head. She wanted to be alone, feel her anger and frustration as she tried to figure out just what had really happened here. “No, I’ll be fine. You get your work done.”
She gave him zero chance for a comeback. Any more apologies, explanations or excuses and she’d get in a cab and head for the airport.
She walked into the house, away from her husband and the man she had an enormous crush on, and refused to look back. But as she took those steps, she realized that for the first time since she’d come to Emand, she wished she’d kept Sakir as a fantasy.
For the reality was becoming far too complicated.
The grounds, desert and city stretched out before him.
Sakir leaned against the balcony attached to his tower offices at the palace—the offices that had once belonged to his father—and breathed in the spiced scent of Emand and the fading warmth of the surrounding deserts. For many years, he had put this world and all of its memories to rest. He had put aside the notion of family and, in return, had become a cool, sharp and impassive businessman.
But things were starting to shift.
Ever since he had stepped off the plane today onto the soil of his homeland, that impassive shield had begun to slip.
The lights of the city began to flicker on and the sight made him smile, though he couldn’t stop the deep ache of homesickness that filled him.
He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Feeling homesick—he would not have thought such an emotion possible, but it was clearly present within him.
As was another, perhaps more detrimental—sentiment.
Affection.
Not just desire, but actual affection. And for a woman he had sworn to himself he would never touch. A woman that meant a great deal to him and his business.
Sakir closed his eyes and saw Rita beneath him, saw her eyes flicker with desire one moment, then vulnerability the next, as he took her beaded nipple into his mouth, as he palmed her, as he slid deep within her body.
Sakir groaned, forced his lids to lift, forced his eyes to focus on the black sky littered with stars.
But it helped little.
Her kiss still lingered on his mouth. Her intensity and need. The way she’d exposed herself and her heart to him. The scent of her hair—it intoxicated him even now. And then there was the memory of her eyes as he had pulled her tightly to him…
He wanted more from her, and he would have taken more if his brother’s servant hadn’t come upon them in the garden.
His body tightened with the urge to run.
He could go to her now…
Just a few floors below, she lay asleep in his bed. Their bed. They were married after all. A legal union that bound them together…
Sakir’s chest tightened painfully.
How would she react if he went to her? If he ripped back those silk sheets and lay atop her, his mouth ready to please her however she wished and the lower half of him hard as stone?
Sakir inhaled deeply, calling for calm within his skin, begging for the control he had spent too many years cultivating.
Rita Thompson was his assistant and soon to be his partner. But she would never be his wife. He would do well to remember that. He would also do well to remember that she held the key to his success here in Emand. If things went as planned, she would help him secure one of the largest and most important contracts of his career, while making his brother see what he could do without his family’s aid.
This task was of utmost importance.
Sakir straightened. He would remain up here, in the tower, at his desk, at his work.
And Rita would remain in their bed, alone.
Sakir pushed away from the balcony and went inside. For the next three weeks, he would keep his distance, keep his lust in check and hope not to lose his mind in the process.
Eight
Nothing in the world felt better than a great big stretch beneath fine silk sheets in an extra-large bed in a delicious foreign country, Rita thought.
Well, nothing except having the man you’d just been dreaming about in bed with you.
Rita rolled onto her stomach, flipped a wave of tawny hair out of her eye and stared outside at the pink morning. Did the Emand sky always hold such a gorgeous pink hue in the morning? she wondered. And if so, would she be willing to consider transferring her work and her life over here to enjoy it on a daily basis?
Stop.
Rita buried her head in her down pillow and released a little scream. Some amazing kisses, some killer touching, and she was seeing pink skies and imagining a life in Emand. Never mind Sakir’s cold impassivity after their encounter. No, she just wanted to remain in the red-hot moment where that beautiful, impassioned man had held her like no other, kissed her breathless and, honest to God, made her bones tingle and shake.
What a fool she was.
A soft knock sounded at her door and for a second Rita felt a flash of excitement in her belly when she thought it might be Sakir. But then a young woman’s voice called, “Good morning, Your Highness,” and Rita frowned and flipped onto her back.
Gana stood in the doorway. She smiled shyly. “I am sorry to startle, Your Highness.”
“That’s alright, Gana.”
The young maid’s smile brightened and she moved into the room with the grace of a ballerina. “Your breakfast is waiting in the living area.”
“Thank you.” Rita’s gaze flicked to the room behind Gana as she asked casually, “Is Sakir— Is… Has my husband been waiting long?”
Gana bit her lip. “His Highness arose very early. He has already taken his meal—”
“Oh?” Why was she surprised? Sure he had to wake up early—didn’t want the servants to know he slept on the couch and not in bed with his wife.
Gana continued, “But he has asked me to tell you that he has gone away.”
Rita sat bolt upright in bed, her heart in her throat. “What?”
“Just for a few hours, Your Highness,” Gana said quickly.
“Oh.” With a little laugh of relief, Rita asked, “Do you know where he’s gone?”
The young woman shook her head. “I am sorry, Your Highness.”
Rita sighed and scooted to the edge of the bed. Obviously, Sakir wasn’t all that anxious to see her. Unlike her, he obviously hadn’t been that affected by their encounter last night. Or maybe, she mused, with just a little hope left in her heart, maybe he had been affected and taking off was his best defense against doing it again when he saw her this morning.
She didn’t know whether to be frustrated or flattered.
Well, one thing she wasn’t going to be after today was available—sexually, emotionally or otherwise. She’d left herself wide open for hurt last night and had gotten what was coming to her.
No more.
She was through with this fantasy thing. She would uphold her end of the “rules” she’d agreed to with Sakir and try to remember that they’d come here for one reason—business.
“Gana, would you do me a favor?” Rita asked, stepping out of bed and slipping on her robe.
Gana bowed low.
“Would you
call me Rita?”
The girl looked horrified. “I could not, ma’am.”
“Please. Just when we’re alone?”
A smile crept into Gana’s face.
“All this formality is getting a little crazy. I need one friend.” Rita raised a hopeful brow. “Okay?”
“Okay,” she said softly. “Rita.”
Rita laughed. “Perfect. Now, let’s you and I have a little breakfast together.”
Again the young woman looked horrified. “Together?”
“Yep, together.” Rita grabbed Gana’s hand and led her into the other room. “And if I have to, I’ll command it.”
As the limousine whisked them into town that afternoon for the welcome feast in the marketplace, Sakir couldn’t help but notice the curt set of Rita’s mouth as she sat spine-straight on the seat opposite.
She was angry with him.
Even though he knew why she carried such a look of reproach in her blue eyes, the need to change that look to one of heat and pleasure—like the one she’d worn last night—almost corrupted Sakir’s sensibilities.
But he knew such a move was unwise. He knew that to touch her again would only lead to both their ruins. He had acted the cool rogue last night to remind them both. They were married but they were not lovers.
Then again, he did care for her. And he was no callous prince. He sat back against the seat, his manner reserved, yet concerned.
“Are you all right, Rita?” he asked.
She stared out the window, into the bright light of day. “Perfect.”
“You are cool, distant and professional—it is as though we are at the office.”
“Well, we are, aren’t we?”
“No, we are not.”
She turned, looked at him. “Oh, c’mon. We came here for Emand Oil. That’s work in my book.”
Sakir glanced at the driver, who was trying to be discreet but could not seem to help looking back at them. Sakir pressed a button on the panel to his left. The privacy glass lifted and set in place. He turned back to Rita. “Yes, we are here to work, but under the guise of marriage.”
“Am I not acting enough like a wife, Sakir?” she asked, her tone rich with frustration.