Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6

by Jennifer Lewis

  “I’d argue that was a mistake.” A mistake they’d now made more than once. “I’m here for a job, and it ends tomorrow. I’m not the kind of person who enjoys a steamy affair for its own sake.”

  “You prefer a steamy affair that ends in marriage.” His hot breath stirred the skin inside her wrist.

  “Yes. No! I don’t know.” It was getting hard to think with him holding her hand captive. She tried to tug it back, but he seized it in his fist and held it tight. She pulled again and inadvertently thrust herself toward him.

  He didn’t kiss her. Instead, he tugged her camisole top down and bared her nipple. Then he licked it with his rough tongue, making her gasp. Some distant part of her brain told her to keep struggling for the return of her hand, but the rest of her body chose to ignore it. The fingers of her other hand even decided to wander to his chest and run their tips over his own tight nipple.

  The robe he wore opened along the front and fell apart to bare his chest. She caught a glimpse of its sculpted outline in the moonlight. Uh-oh. Hot desire unfurled in her core.

  Osman dipped his head and sucked her other nipple, which had tightened to a bud, and she allowed herself to explore the strong lines of his back with her hands.

  Was it so wrong to enjoy a night of pleasure with this man who wanted it so badly? Most likely she’d never see him again and there would be no repercussions. She’d already decided to break up with Allan. It was almost insulting how quickly he’d jumped at the chance to sleep alone and protect his sinuses from inflammation rather than share intimacy with her.

  “Oh.” The sound escaped her mouth as Osman sucked hard on her nipple. Sensation rushed over her in a wave that made her rock forward. Now his mouth wandered lower, his tongue blazing a trail over her belly. He tugged at the elastic waist of her pajama pants, then pressed his mouth against her crotch. Before she had time to process what was happening, his tongue flicked back and forth, revving her already overheated engine.

  Soon she lay on her back, sprawled across the pillows, releasing herself to the powerful sensations Osman unleashed inside her. There was nothing wrong with desire. It was a natural part of human existence. Yes, it was probably better to explore it within the confines of a committed relationship, but surely everyone was allowed one wild fling in their time?

  Her hips writhed as Osman pleasured her with his mouth, arching to deepen the sensation flooding her core. Already she teetered on the brink of an orgasm, and he hadn’t even entered her. Of course he was a skilled lover who must have driven countless women insane with lust. This was just another evening of seduction for him. Nothing special. He was probably just trying to soften her up with his talk of marriage. Maybe he figured that was what all women wanted to hear.

  “Oooooh.” Another embarrassing half-hissed exclamation escaped her as he stuck his tongue right inside her. That was a first! The feeling was astonishingly intimate and made her crave something more substantial inside her. Her fingers crept around his waist and found that he was every bit as aroused as her.

  Then a sobering thought occurred. “Do you have a condom?” The question was an admission that she wanted to have sex with him right now. She was on the Pill but still not crazy enough to have unprotected sex with a man she barely knew.

  “I do.” He pulled one from the folds of his robe and unwrapped it with expert ease. She watched him roll it on his erection with growing anticipation.

  He entered her very slowly, making her most intimate muscles reach and grab for his hard length until she was in a fever of excitement. She wrapped her arms around his big torso and held him close, drinking in his masculine scent and enjoying the stubble of his cheek against hers.

  “I know you think I’m crazy, but I love you already.” He breathed the words into her ear. “You’re a dream come true.”

  Sam squeezed her eyes tight shut, thoughts tangling with the powerful feelings dancing inside her. She should find his confession alarming or frightening, but right now it felt natural and wonderful. She loved that Osman could so easily share his feelings when most men would keep them hidden for fear of looking like a fool.

  “You’re a pretty special guy,” she murmured, a smile sneaking over her mouth as she nibbled his ear. “I think any woman would be lucky to have you.” And she didn’t mean because of his palace or his royal titles or vast wealth or any of that stuff. He was a kind, warm, demonstrative man who knew how to give and receive affection. Sam knew from experience that was not something you could take for granted.

  “I’m lucky to have you.” He proved it with a passionate kiss, still dancing inside her and sending her insides spinning in all directions. She wanted to argue that he only had until tomorrow, but that seemed so petty and right now she didn’t want to believe it. With her arms wrapped around him and her ears still ringing with his professions of love, she wished she could stay right here with him until the end of time. She wouldn’t meet a man like Osman again.

  He kissed her face all over, so gentle and careful that she felt like a rare work of art. All the while he moved inside her, tiny intimate movements that made her insides dance with his. Everything about their lovemaking felt utterly natural and sensual, nothing forced or desperate at all. Her first orgasm washed over her gently like a ship coming into port. When he quickened the rhythm, she climaxed again, her muscles gripping him as she clutched him close. The third time, they came together in an explosive release of tension that felt like a champagne cork bursting from the bottle.

  Afterward they lay in each other’s arms, totally relaxed and satisfied, all the tension and passion drifting away like moonbeams around them. Neither of them could sleep. First they talked about his future kingdom and his hopes and ambitions for his tiny but ancient nation. Then they talked about her career and some long-planned projects she hoped to make in the next few years. Then they talked about their school days, their friends and their family. Osman obviously loved his brothers deeply, and she admired him for harboring no resentment that they’d each been given a chunk of his birthright to call their own.

  Sam felt a sneaking sense of dread when the first pale rays of morning sun began to creep through the filigreed shutters. This was her last day in Ubar. Spending a night in Osman’s arms could turn out to be a big mistake when she lay in her lonely empty bed in New York, missing him.

  First she’d have to find a bed. Allan had been living at her place for six months, ever since he’d had some kind of dispute with his former roommate. She could let him take over her lease, and she’d find somewhere new. That was better for a fresh start, anyway.

  “What are you thinking about?” Osman ran his thumb gently over her lips.

  “Going home. I have a lot of changes to make.”

  “Don’t go home. Stay here with me.” His expression was deadly serious. And hopeful. Agonizingly hopeful.

  Her chest hurt. “It’s not that simple. It’s taken years to build my career. I have commitments.” If she spent six months overseas her upcoming projects would fall apart or be turned over to someone else. She worked hard to keep herself booked and busy as far in advance as possible, as that was the safest way for a freelance producer to survive. If one project got delayed—which often happened—she’d just juggle two at once. She could usually handle that, but there was no way she could drop everything for a few months of luxurious indulgence in Ubar.

  “You can’t go.” His arms wrapped around her, holding her in an affectionate vice grip. She didn’t even try to escape because she knew she’d have no chance. For a few seconds it was relaxing to have no options but to submit to Osman’s insistent caresses.

  But this wasn’t real life.

  “The sun’s rising. I need to get to Nabattur.” She blinked as brighter rays edged across the tiled stone floor toward the bed.

  “Of course.” He eased himself away from her like he was peeling off a BandAid and shook his head with a mysterious smile on his face. “I’d never stand in the way of you making this
documentary as magnificent as I know it will be.”

  She blinked, surprised—and maybe even a little disappointed—that he’d let her go that easily. She resolved to be happy about it. “Great. You really don’t need to come, either. I’m sure you have more important things to do now that I’ve monopolized your time for the last two days. Allan and I can drive ourselves into Nabattur.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll escort you. What if you break down again?” He’d turned the other way, shrugging into his robe, so she couldn’t see his face, but she thought she heard a hint of impatience in his voice.

  “Only if you can spare the time. I know Nabattur better than most of New York at this point. I can even make myself understood if I need to, at least with some basic phrases.”

  Osman turned and looked at her. “Alarishim.”

  She blinked. He’d said it with such force. “What does that mean?”

  “It doesn’t translate exactly, but it roughly means ‘the day is ours.’ It’s an ancient battle cry.” A smile tugged at one side of his mouth. “Our men would stand in their stirrups and shout it to the winds before charging against the enemy.”

  “They were a confident bunch.”

  Mischief shone in his eyes. “And with good reason.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  A pretty young girl delivered a new dress for Sam to wear. Gold silk with bright-blue embroidery on the cuffs and hem and a blue-and-gold sash or headscarf or whatever it was.

  She didn’t put it on. So far Osman had managed to railroad her into acting out every important part of the ceremony with him, and she felt sure that if she wore this dress today she’d end up married to him. It looked suspiciously like the attire she’d seen in old photos of the betrothal ceremony. Instead, she donned a dark rose-colored shirt and some slim-fitting khakis. A glance in the mirror confirmed that she looked more like an international journalist that an Ubarite bride. Which was a big relief.

  A knock on the door made her jump, and this time it was Allan. His eyes immediately fell to the gold ensemble on the bed. “Getting married this morning, are you?” The cold look in his eyes suggested he knew everything she and Osman had done last night.

  Guilt swept over her in a nauseating wave. “Allan, I have to tell you something.”

  “I knew it.” His lips pressed together for a moment. “Though I don’t understand it. I wouldn’t have thought a domineering tin-pot dictator would be your style.”

  Anger flared in her at his unfair description of Osman. But this was not the time or place to defend her choice. “It’s certainly been a confusing three days, but I think we both know things won’t be the same between us.” She didn’t want to mention how disappointed she was in how he’d conducted himself and done his best to spoil this whole adventure. “We don’t seem to want the same things from life.”

  “I thought you wanted to make good films, not become a sultan’s concubine.”

  “Allan! Stop it. I have no intention of becoming anyone’s concubine, and I sincerely hope that we can still work together in the future, as I have every intention of making hundreds of films. The truth is, we’re not as compatible as we thought. I love the excitement and even the inconvenience of traveling to a place I don’t know and meeting the people and eating the food and sleeping under their skies, and you hate it. I had no idea you’d feel that way, but now that I do I don’t feel the same way about you.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, covering the Sundance Festival logo on his T-shirt. “Seems pretty petty to me. I thought we were supposed to love each other.”

  She drew in a breath to steady herself. “I thought I loved you, but I now I realize it was something else. I don’t think you loved me, either. Our connection is an intellectual one that has little or nothing to do with passion or emotion. I think we were both in the right place at the right time and desperately wanted to love each other. In the cold light of day—”

  “Hot.” He gestured at the sunrays pouring through the shutters. “The unpleasantly hot light of day.”

  “I don’t love you.” It was very easy to say and rather satisfying under the circumstances. “But we still have a film to shoot.”

  She held her breath, wondering if he’d pack the camera away and storm off. She had a contingency plan involving a small camcorder in her luggage, but it would be hard to match the quality with the expensive, high-tech camera they’d been shooting with so far.

  “I’m a professional, and I’ll shoot it. Even if it has your wedding to someone else in the final act.” His pale eyes glittered.

  “I’m sorry, Allan.” His visible anger reminded her that he did feel emotion and that she’d hurt him, or at least really ticked him off. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought we’d just come here, shoot the film and go get married. This trip has been full of surprises.”

  “As long as I’m on a plane tonight, I don’t really care what happens any more. Get your gold dress on and let’s get it over with.”

  She didn’t bother telling him she had no intention of marrying Osman during the ceremony. If he knew her at all he’d figure that out. She’d also managed not to mention their steamy tryst, which hopefully he hadn’t heard through the wall.

  She grabbed her bags—she thought it safest to assume they would not be coming back here after the ceremony—and they headed down the hallway toward the main door. “Okay, let’s go.”

  The sun hung above the mountains like a lantern as Osman guided the car onto the road to Nabattur. He’d insisted that Sam ride in a different car from him, because he didn’t want to place her life in danger. She’d chosen to drive the Land Rover with Allan, which he didn’t like much, either, but he didn’t intend to start the day with an argument.

  The cars had all been checked and rechecked for explosives, and he and his heavily armed entourage followed at a considerable distance, just in case some fool decided to target him again.

  Zadir peered anxiously at him from the passenger seat. “You’re not going to screw this up, are you?”

  “Beshwistar, brother. Beshwistar.”

  “I’m trying, but I can’t get married until you do and I’m growing impatient.”

  Osman turned to him. “You do have someone in mind. Am I right that it’s the mysterious architect you plan to hire?”

  His brother’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you worry about your own nuptials, and I’ll take care of mine when the time comes.”

  “Point taken.”

  “I see you’re dressed the part but your bride is in khakis.”

  “Yes.” Osman tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. “It’s not ideal but not worth making a fuss over either.” He grinned. “Otherwise we’re well on track.”

  Of course you weren’t supposed to sleep with your intended bride on the eve of the wedding, but neither he nor Sam had exactly followed the life path of a traditional Ubarite couple.

  “You really think she’s going to marry you today?”

  “Alarishim.”

  Zadir smiled. “You’re just full of ancient Ubarite aphorisms today, aren’t you? I hope your confidence is well placed. American women aren’t usually ready to commit to anything on the basis of two days’ acquaintance. You might want to pace yourself and focus on getting engaged rather than actually married.”

  “Not a bad idea, brother.” Osman kept his eyes focused on the car ahead. “But if we’re not married then a distance of many thousand miles could sap our relationship of its strength. It’s better if we commit.”

  “Well, good luck to you. Amahd and I are counting on you.”

  “What’s that Jeep up to behind us?” He’d noticed an old army-green jalopy following them at a distance, behind his security staff in their car, for some time now. His brain—and armed services—were on high alert after yesterday’s attack. They’d found the rocket launcher in the mountains. Apparently his adversary had deep pockets to leave such an expensive piece of equipment unguarded, or they’d been s
urprised into flight.

  Osman had no intention of cowering inside his palace, and he wouldn’t encourage his guests to, either, but he made sure they had cover from all directions, and the mountains were filled with his foot soldiers looking for any signs of brewing trouble.

  Zadir glanced over his shoulder. “There are a million Jeeps like that on the road.”

  “There are probably less than five thousand vehicles of any type in our entire nation,” contradicted Osman.

  “Okay, but it’s a common car. Don’t worry too much.”

  “I just don’t want anything to interfere with today’s events.” He glanced in the mirror again. It had fallen back and seemed to be deliberately staying at a distance, despite the fact that traffic grew heavy as they approached Nabattur. “I’d be less suspicious if he was riding my staff’s bumper. It’s like he doesn’t want anyone to get a close look.”

  “I’ll tell the guards to keep an eye on him, okay? You get back to concentrating on what’s really important.”

  Osman smiled. He and his brothers hadn’t been reunited for long, but they were a great team already. “Thanks, bro.”

  Allan was very quiet on the drive into Nabattur in the restored Land Rover. Not that Allan’s sulking was anything unusual for this trip, but his silence had a menacing quality to it that she hadn’t noticed before. Sam was sore from yesterday’s crash, and he must be, too, but she didn’t want to invite a litany of complaints by asking about it. She drove, as usual, and decided to shoot some footage of the events herself, just in case Allan was tempted to drop the ball somehow. Osman’s men had been recording sporadically with small cameras, but she had no idea if they recorded anything usable, or if she’d ever get to see it. At least she had the existing footage backed up on her laptop.

  She couldn’t believe she was even thinking like this, but then she hadn’t expected to break up with him in the middle of the shoot, either.