Still, she did need to check on Osman and make sure he wasn’t showing symptoms of concussion. That’s why she came back here after all. He’d shown amazing restraint in not coming through the door himself. Maybe he’d lost interest in her. Perhaps he hadn’t liked the way she stood up to him and told him he was like the murderous father he despised. She regretted that now. She’d said it in the heat of the moment, knowing it would hit where it hurt.
Her barb had its intended effect and had propelled him into danger.
She rose to her feet, walked silently to the door and knocked on the polished wood. No answer. Anticipation turned to disappointment. Could he be asleep? She should let him rest and recuperate.
Unless he had a brain injury brewing.
Which wasn’t very likely.
Still… She knocked again. No answer. She tried the handle, and it turned smoothly. Nerves jangling, she pushed the door open a crack and peeped into his room. It was dark, lit only by patterned moonlight filtering through the filigreed wooden shutters. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out the carved wood bed. A white sheet draped over Osman’s impressive body.
Feeling like a burglar, she snuck across the room. She could just check to make sure he was breathing normally, then retreat. What did normal breathing sound like? Not like hers, which grew increasingly rapid as she approached the bed. His subtle but inviting scent caught her attention as she leaned over him, almost close enough to feel the warmth from his body. Eyes closed he looked peaceful and gorgeous. He was also brilliant, successful and royal. She was probably the only woman in the world crazy enough to rebuff his advances. The thought made her smile. His breathing was slow and steady, so she could return to bed with enough peace of mind to get some sleep. She’d much rather stand here and stare at him all night, though. Tomorrow she’d be leaving, which right now felt like a big mistake.
The sadness seeping through her made her realize how much she’d started to hope that they’d spend more time together before she left. Which was foolish because she was the one who’d told him to back off. At least he seemed to be okay. She turned, sighed and was about to head for the door when he grabbed her wrist.
She shrieked, but so quietly that hopefully no one else heard it. “You’re awake.”
“You woke me.”
“I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet.”
“You were quiet, but your gaze started to burn my skin.” His eyes gleamed in the moonlight.
A smile crept across her mouth. “Sorry about that.”
“You were going to sneak away without saying hello?”
“I didn’t want to wake you while you’re trying to recover.”
“Just the sight of you as I lay on the road was enough to restore me.”
She saw a flash of white teeth. “Charmer.”
“Seducer.” He stroked her hand with his thumb, which sent ripples of desire deeper inside her.
“Me? You’re the seducer. I came here with my boyfriend, remember?” Allan must be on the plane by now. A relief for both of them, no doubt.
“I rescued you from a life of disappointment.”
“I think you did.” She sat on the bed next to him. The silky movement and feel of his thumb on her skin made her want to touch him. “And I thank you for that.”
“How are you going to thank me?”
“By saying thank you?” she teased.
He reached up and touched her cheek. “I have a better idea.”
“Aren’t you too bruised for that?”
“No way.” He rose to a sitting position and kissed her on the lips. Arousal flooded her. She let her fingers roam over his muscular body, enjoying the firmness of every fit and agile part of it.
She pulled her lips from his just far enough to say, “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay.”
“I’m a lot more than okay right now.” Desire rumbled in his deep voice. He peeled away her lightweight pajama top and feathered his lips over her nipples. The sensation was so intense that she wanted to scream, but she managed to grit her teeth instead. Before Osman she’d never imagined that she could want to make love so badly that she might explode if she didn’t.
She let her fingers wander low over his chest and hips—which proved to be already bare. His erection was ready and waiting for her. “Were you dreaming about me?”
“Obviously.” He slid her pants down over her legs and lifted her into a sitting position on top of him. She eased down, taking him inside her as slowly as she could, feeling herself open up to the sensation. They kissed as she sank deeper, and he thumbed her nipples gently as she started to gyrate back and forth. Sensation cascaded over her in hot waves that made her breath catch. Her first orgasm gripped him and made him shudder with pleasure.
How did he do this to her? Was it just chemistry? It felt more like alchemy.
He flipped them over with the deft sureness of an acrobat and guided them both deeper into an unexplored universe of pleasure.
She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay in his bed tonight. To awaken in his arms, to spend the day with him, learning more about his beautiful and enigmatic nation.
And she didn’t want to catch that plane.
But she had a film to edit.
Practical thoughts scratched at the outside of her consciousness, but the rhythms Osman created made it impossible to think so she abandoned the effort and gave herself over to feeling. Pleasure flowed through her from head to toe, filling her and banishing all doubt and fear. Living utterly in the moment, she gasped as he exploded inside her and their insides pulsed in unison.
Lying in Osman’s arms felt perfect. She was supposed to be right here, right now, with him. How was that possible?
Chest still heaving with emotion, she stroked his cheek.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Yes, you do.” He nuzzled her gently. “You are going to marry me and share a life with me. You promised you would on the road to Nabattur.”
Her heart seized. “I didn’t realize you could hear me.”
“I know you meant it, too. You’re not one for idle promises. You’d never have said it unless it came from your heart.”
He was right. She’d meant every word and pledged her whole life to him in that desperate plea. But could she really abandon her sensible, quiet existence in New York for life at a king’s side? “I’m very confused.”
“No, you’re not.” Osman didn’t blink. “You keep trying to confuse yourself by thinking too much about what you want and don’t want, but deep down inside, you already know.”
She let out a long, slow breath in gradual increments. She looked deep inside her heart—or rather the most private recesses of her cerebral cortex—then right at Osman. “I want you.” She’d told him she loved him, and she meant it.
“And I want you. I fell in love with you at first sight. And I have every reason to believe I’ll be in love with you until my dying breath or even beyond.” Osman’s eyes grew dark with emotion. “And not just because I’m an Ubarite, but because I’m a man and my spirit and body connect with yours on the deepest levels.
She knew he meant every word, because she felt the same way. “I do love you, too,” she admitted, emotion almost choking her. “I know I said it under duress when I was worried you might die, but it’s true. I’ve never had feelings anything like this for anyone else.”
“Then there’s no need for confusion. The only thing that remains is to plan our wedding.”
Sam’s heart felt so full it hurt. She really did want to marry Osman. It was crazy, but it also seemed…right. “I’m sorry we missed a chance to marry at the festival in Ubarite tradition.”
She felt his smile against her cheek. “Spoken like a true Ubarite queen, but now we’ll have time to plan a royal wedding that will gather all our people together in celebration. It’ll be even better this way.”
“I never imagined having a big wedding.” She frowned, imagining herself in one of the region’s lavish
gold-and-silk dresses. Truth be told, she felt rather wonderful in them. “I guess I’d always assumed that I’d buy a simple vintage dress and stand under a tree in Central Park or something.”
“You deserve more than that.” He hugged her tight, and emotion filled her until she felt she might burst. “You always have, though you didn’t seem to know it. We’ll fly your friends here from New York, and your family from California, and they’ll all get to know Ubar. Maybe they’ll even want to move here.”
She laughed. “I’d be fine with going to visit them regularly.”
“You’ll need to travel to make your award-winning films. I look forward to accompanying you on the journeys.”
“That sounds fun.” The prospect of pursuing her professional dreams with Osman at her side was almost too much to imagine. “I really do believe we’ll make it work. I’m so glad you’re okay. When I thought you might die, I…” Emotion choked her. She couldn’t imagine being without him. It scared her that someone wanted him dead. “Do you have any idea who’s trying to kill you?”
“Not yet, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. Obviously I’m not easy to kill.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “And I have no intention of dying now that I have you to share my life with.”
She felt like an idiot for fighting so hard against her feelings for Osman. She might have thrown away their whole future just because she clung to outmoded—and dull!—ideas of what her life should be. “I guess I should be thankful for those gunshots.”
“When I find the culprit who fired them, I shall…” She heard him draw in a sharp breath. “Cover him with garlands of roses!”
She chuckled. “But what happened to the horse? Was she ever found?”
Osman smiled. “At last report she was quietly eating dinner in our stables. She’s a magnificent animal. I intend for her to be your horse.”
“I can’t ride.”
“Yet. Everything is possible if you’re open to adventure.”
Sam felt a grin spread across her face. “You have a point there. And I have a plane ticket to cancel.”
THE END
DESERT KINGS
Zadir
Bought for the Sheikh
By Jennifer Lewis
In Zadir – Bought for the Sheikh, royal heir Zadir Al Kilanjar is determined to woo renowned architect Veronica Baxter to his homeland of Ubar to design his palace—and become his wife. Ronnie first met Zadir when their plane crashed in the Empty Quarter (Desert Kings – Veronica – Stranded with the Sheikh), and she hasn’t been able to get the seductive sheikh out of her mind. With her career in high gear and her heart surrounded by more stone walls than her projects, she’s resolved to resist Zadir’s advances—but he’s just as determined to win her.
CHAPTER ONE
“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Veronica Baxter’s heart beat so hard she wondered if her expensive new dress might burst at the seams.
“Relax, Ronnie. It’s for a good cause.” Her friend Cynthia was all brisk efficiency, with her clipboard and microphone, and her red hair tucked into a high bun.
“I know, but an auction? It’s just tacky. It makes me feel like a piece of meat.” Standing offstage, she could hear the crowd in the big ballroom clapping and cheering over something. She was up next. “Maybe I should have worn a suit, so I look more serious.”
“To a black-tie gala? You look gorgeous and professional. Just smile and be yourself.”
“But I’m shy until I get to know people. I’m not good with small talk. Whoever buys dinner with me will think they’ve wasted their money.”
“Nonsense. They’re donating their money to Habitat for Humanity, and the dinner with you is just a bonus.” Cynthia squeezed her arm, which had broken out in goose bumps of terror. She had to give a short speech before the bidding started, and she was one of those people who feared public speaking more than death—almost.
“You’re right. I’m taking myself too seriously. I’m an architect, for crying out loud. Who’d pay to have dinner with me?”
“You’re an award-winning, cutting-edge architect who’s currently in the running to design the next presidential library, my dear.” Cynthia winked her mascara-coated lashes. “I think everyone in the business would like to share an hour or two with you.”
Ronnie wasn’t so sure. “What if no one bids?” She might die of humiliation.
“Trust me, someone will. Now chin up, because you’re on!” Cynthia shoved her gently toward the curtain that hid them from the stage. Ronnie drew in as deep a breath as the tailored lines of her pearl-gray silk dress would allow, and headed onto the stage, hoping she wouldn’t fall off her high heels.
The lights were blinding as she stepped out. She could hear the announcer’s voice reading her name and describing her as the hottest young architect in America today—embarrassing!—and somehow she managed to make her way to the podium and plaster a smile on her face.
Cynthia had written her short speech about the important work Habitat for Humanity was doing and how she was honored to be there in support of its new project, which promised—as always—to provide homes for needy families in the community… She tried to stay focused on the good cause and managed to get it out without stammering.
The announcer then led a round of applause and declared that they would start the bidding at one thousand dollars. There was a deafening silence, and Ronnie wished the polished wood floor would crack open and swallow her alive.
“We have our first bidder!” he called triumphantly, pointing to someone in the back. With the spotlight shining right in her eyes, Ronnie couldn’t see anything. Hopefully it would be some nice elderly couple who wanted to contribute to a good cause.
“And another, five thousand! Do we have any more bids?”
The first bidder must have raised a hand. She squinted into the light. They were holding up round white signs with numbers on them, but she couldn’t make out the faces. She kept her smile firmly in place—she’d practically painted it on with her lipstick anyway—as the bidding rose higher and higher.
“Twenty thousand dollars!” She swallowed. Cynthia was right about this being a good fundraising idea. She’d have to apologize for pooh-poohing it so much. She certainly hoped she could deliver twenty thousand dollars’ worth of scintillating dinner conversation.
“Forty thousand dollars!” She blinked, not sure she was hearing right.
“Sixty thousand dollars!” The announcer’s voice was beginning to sound deafening as Ronnie struggled to comprehend what was happening. “And we have a winner, ladies and gentlemen. Number forty-eight, His Majesty Zadir Al Kilanjar will enjoy dinner with Veronica Baxter.”
Zadir Al Kilanjar? Her heart stopped beating and the room started to spin. She’d been avoiding Zadir’s calls and emails for months, while dreaming about him every night and wondering about him during the day until she thought she might go mad.
He should be furious with her, not willing to pay sixty thousand dollars for an hour or two of her time. Her breathing quickened. He must be doing this to get revenge on her for ignoring him. This was his way of proving that you couldn’t brush off a prince, no matter how busy or important you thought you were.
She realized her smile had slipped and it took a big effort to paste it back on. “Thank…thank you.” Now she was stuttering. “I appreciate your very generous donation.” It was hard to form a sentence with her brain careening out of control. She knew she should say something else, but she couldn’t think of a single word other than, “help!” so she smiled at the announcer and made her way off the slippery stage as fast as she could.
Cynthia was beaming when she plunged back behind the curtain. “See! I told you someone would bid.”
“Zadir Al Kilanjar…” Her voice was a shocked whisper. “He’s the man I was in the plane crash with.” And who I can’t get out of my mind, no matter how hard I try. She’d been a fool to get involved with him in the first place. Her career was her number one
priority right now and she didn’t have time for a long distance affair that could only end in a broken heart.
“Obviously you made quite an impression.”
“But we…I…I had no idea he could even be here. He lives on the other side of the world.” She’d thought ignoring him was the safest thing to do.
“Relax. It’s dinner. You can reminisce over your miraculous survival then go your separate ways.” Cynthia’s bright smile had turned to a frown of concern. Apparently Ronnie looked as panicked as she felt. Cynthia picked up Ronnie’s beaded clutch purse and shoved it at her. “I’m sure he’ll be perfectly charming.”
Ronnie gulped as she took her purse. “That’s what I’m worried about.” Ronnie’s mom had been at the peak of her career—singing on stage at Carnegie Hall— when she met Ronnie’s father, and she’d given it all up because touring kept her away from him. Ronnie had sworn she’d never make the same mistake and she did not need a man to turn her life upside down right now.
Cynthia squeezed her arm. “Come to the donors’ room. You’ll meet him, then you can head out for dinner.”
“Where is the dinner?” Why hadn’t she thought to ask for more details before?
“Wherever he chooses. I know several bidders are planning to head to The Key Grill next door.”
“Okay. I can do this. It’s for charity.” She was trying to convince herself, not Cynthia.
“That’s the spirit! You’ve raised the funds to build an entire house in less than five minutes.” Cynthia kissed her cheek and shoved her gently toward a door on the other side of the room. “Call me tomorrow and let me know how it goes.”
Ronnie didn’t manage a reply. She was too busy racking her brain for what to say to Zadir. Sorry I didn’t return your calls. I’ve been busy. I’m sorry I made love with you in the desert when we both thought we might die. No, she wouldn’t say that. Better to pretend it never happened. That’s what she’d been trying—unsuccessfully—to do ever since. Zadir Al Kilanjar had a disturbing effect on her sanity, and no good could come from pursuing their brief liaison.
Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Page 22