“You love to blame other people for your own shortcomings, don’t you?”
“Shortcomings?” He pretended to look affronted. “Now you’re hurting my feelings.”
“That feels like progress.” She was feeling quite relaxed now, sitting reclined on the bank of cypress needles that formed a soft carpet. “I think you’re usually trying to convince everyone that you don’t have feelings like an ordinary human.”
He cocked his head. “I had no idea you were such a psychologist.”
“You learn pretty fast how to identify human emotion when your life depends upon keeping one cranky old man happy.”
He laughed. “I’ll bet it does. Damn, you’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?”
“Like I said, everyone has. My grandmother had a saying: If we all hung our problems out on the washing line, and each person could trade problems with someone, we’d all look around and choose our own.”
“Maybe you’re right. And d’you know what?”
“What?”
“It feels damn good to have a conversation with someone in my native tongue after all these years. My mom used to say the same thing about people’s troubles.” He grinned, looking wistful. “Just talking to you makes Ubar feel more….”
“Like home?” There. She’d said it, even though she hadn’t really wanted to. In truth it felt great to encourage Gibran to embrace his origins. It was ridiculous that a man should be so successful and accomplished and still feel at odds with the world.
He shook himself as if trying to shake off a bug. “Dammit, Aliyah, you’re a disturbing woman. And I’m not easily disturbed.”
“You’re worried that you’re going to grow attached to the old place again.”
“It’s already happening. And I’m afraid that I’m starting to really like those privileged and infuriatingly confident brothers of mine. We’re all half brothers after all.
“I’m glad.” She tried to hide the big smile that wanted to creep across her mouth. “I think it’s wonderful for all of you.”
He peered at her curiously. “But where do you fit in?”
“I’m family, too.” She spoke with determination. “I married into the family just like Sam and Ronnie did. I may not have chosen to, but I did and my children are related by blood to all of you.”
His dark stare held her gaze and she saw he was truly realizing this for the first time. “Of course. And I’m sorry—once again—for the way I attacked you when we first met. I can see now that you’ve simply made the best of a difficult situation. You’re a strong and resilient woman, Aliyah.”
“And you’re a strong and resilient man, Gibran.”
Now they were being nice to each other. Everything ran so hot and cold between them. And tension still crackled in the air. The sheer physicality of him—so big and strong and male—drew her attention like a magnet, even when she tried to focus on other things.
She could remember the taste of him when he’d kissed her. The only kiss of her life that she’d actually enjoyed. It would almost be wonderful if he could kiss her again, right now.
Except that he’d promised not to, and put his honor on the line, so she was pretty sure he wouldn’t.
Which felt a little sad under the circumstances.
Aliyah scolded herself for her shocking thoughts. If Gibran had any idea what was going through her mind he’d probably laugh so hard he’d fall into the pond. He’d just been toying with her when he kissed her. He hadn’t meant anything by it.
Yes, he was attracted to her. That was easy enough to read in his hot, steady gaze.
And of course she was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? He was gorgeous. Today he wore a T-shirt in a dull blue color that set off his tanned skin. The short sleeves showed a sliver of a tattoo climbing up his right arm—a tantalizing glimpse too small for her to tell what it was. She could see shards of something, in different colors.
Her curiosity finally got the better of her. “Your tattoo—what is it a picture of?” She tried not to look too eager.
He studied her for a second and she regretted revealing her interest. Then he pushed up his shirtsleeve and showed her. The image surprised her. The center of it looked like a heart, though one made of crystal or ice, not flesh. Around it, colors rippled in jagged waves.
She’d never seen a tattoo up close before. They were very unusual—almost unheard of—in Ubar.
“Are you shocked that I would defile my body?” He lifted a brow. “It is considered wrong here to alter your physique, isn’t it?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never heard of anyone doing it. What does it mean?”
He stared out at the water for a moment, then tipped his chin up a little. “Nothing really. A friend of mine from the Legion became a tattoo artist after he got out and I let him practice on me. If I’d known he was going to put a damn shattered heart on me I’d have kept my arms covered.”
“I think it’s beautiful.” Her fingers twitched toward it.
“You can touch it. You won’t feel anything though.”
Gingerly, holding her breath, she touched her fingertips to the thick muscle of his upper arm, right in the middle of the faceted heart. Energy sizzled through her as their skin met, but she managed not to flinch.
She stroked the heart lightly, shocked that she was bold enough. His muscles contracted, and she realized that she still wasn’t breathing. She tugged her hand back. “It suits you.”
“Because I’m the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve?” He was mocking her.
“Maybe you do, more than you realize.”
“Damn. I hope not.” He tugged his T-shirt back down. “I pride myself on my flinty demeanor.” He scowled at her, as if to prove it.
She laughed. “What do I know? I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“Count yourself lucky.”
“Just think, I might have gone my whole life without learning to drive. I might have never seen this pond again.” She looked out over the silver water, with the reflections of trees dancing in it. “I’ve been too…chicken. I need to figure out what I really want…what I really think. That’s the best way to set an example for my girls.”
His hard expression softened into approval. “I guess I’m not as mean as people say.”
“Well…” She smiled. “I’m not so sure about that. But right now I’m so happy I could almost kiss you.”
The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. They hit their target like a blow and she watched Gibran’s body tense and his eyes widen.
Was he thinking about the same thing?
Tension throbbed in the air for a moment, then his low voice crept into her ears. “I would kiss you, but I promised not to.” His eyes blazed with…something.
“I know.” She drew in a shaky breath, almost whispering. “I rather wish you hadn’t.”
Was she really saying these words aloud? Just a couple of days ago she’d have gladly packed his bags and thrown him out of the palace, but now…
“All you have to do is give the word.” He turned his head toward her but still held his body at bay, and she could see his muscles rigid with tension.
Aliyah’s lips parted. Adrenaline crept through her muscles, warming them. They could kiss right here, right now, and no one would know. Already she could feel her nipples tighten against her clothing and her breath quickened. “Yes.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Gibran’s arms were around Aliyah before she had a chance to doubt herself. He tugged her close and their lips met in a soft explosion of passion that they’d both kept bottled up for days. His rough, masculine embrace felt so good it was all she could do not to cry out with pleasure. And she couldn’t talk at all because his lips were on hers and his tongue in her mouth.
A shudder of relief and pleasure rippled through her as her fingers wound into his hair. She hadn’t realized how much she’d ached to do this. Gibran had unearthed something inside her that she never knew was there, and she w
anted to explore it.
She inhaled his scent, drawing it down inside her, musky, masculine and arousing, with a hint of fresh soap. His hair was coarse, thick, and there was already a trace of stubble on his jaw though it was still morning.
His hands roamed over her torso, feeling it through her clothes, and her skin sizzled in response. This was the third time she’d kissed him, but this was the first time it was deliberate, on purpose. Somehow that made it even more exciting.
She already knew Gibran was a maverick—unpredictable and unconventional—so she felt less constrained herself by the rules of tradition and expectation. He wouldn’t think less of her because she’d kissed a man outside of marriage. In fact, he’d encouraged her to explore areas of her life she’d given up on.
He was also secretive, so she felt confident that he wouldn’t betray her to anyone. Despite the way he’d challenged and unsettled her, she trusted him and didn’t think he’d do anything to hurt her or damage her position in the household.
Her breasts stirred, and she pushed them against his chest, enjoying the buzz of sensation that rushed through her. Gibran pushed all her buttons. And she hadn’t even realized she had buttons! It was a big revelation.
She could feel her insides heating, and dampness gathering between her thighs. Was this how other women felt when they were with a lover? Her married sex life had been grim, to say the least, and she’d always wondered what it would be like to kiss and sleep with a man who intrigued and excited her.
Their lips moved over each other in a sensual dance. Even the taste of him was exciting, and each time his tongue met hers, a little jolt of electricity darted through her.
She let her fingers roam down the back of his neck and over the collar of his T-shirt. She loved the broadness of his shoulders, which looked and felt like they could carry the weight of the world. The muscle of his back was hard and thick. His spine was a groove, not a raised line of knobs like her late husband’s.
When their lips finally parted and her eyes opened, she felt dazed. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. His gaze rested on her face, soft and stunned as her own. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I met you.” His voice was rough with desire.
“I believe you already did.”
“Not like that, with you kissing me back just as hard.”
“Was I?” She hadn’t been very aware of her own movements. She was too busy thinking about his body and the way he set her senses on fire.
“You’re quite a kisser.”
“Am I?” She could hear the surprise in her own voice.
“If I wasn’t already on my knees, you’d have brought me to them.”
She realized with a jolt that they were kneeling in front of each other on the soft carpet of cypress needles. She shifted her weight, releasing their fragrant aroma. Her nipples pushed against the fabric of her dress, wishing they were still pressed against the hard muscle of his chest.
“Now what do we do?” She had no idea. She didn’t feel embarrassed about asking, either. Gibran knew the limits of her experience, and he was prone to brutal honesty himself, so she might as well go for it.
“Well, if we listen to the parts of my body that are talking the loudest, I’d say we strip off all our clothes and make mad, passionate love here under the trees.” He spoke softly, with a twinkle of humor in his eyes.
Her insides responded to his shocking suggestion with surprising enthusiasm. “Can we really do that?” It seemed too easy. She knew it was considered wrong, and many would think her immoral, but that didn’t seem relevant right now. All she knew was that she wanted Gibran, he wanted her, and there was no good reason for them not to enjoy each other.
“We could…” He paused and inhaled. “But we won’t.”
“Why not?” Her protest came too fast.
“For one thing, we have no protection.”
“I thought you were a professional protector.” She cocked her head.
“You’re the mother of two children, so I know you’re not that innocent.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t have any children, and that’s because I’ve always been very careful to take precautions.”
“You never wanted children?” It seemed odd to her. She knew his brothers did. Even stolid Amahd occasionally talked about taking his future son hunting or some other masculine pursuit.
“Not by accident. A child is a big commitment, as you know. I didn’t get so far in my profession by letting accidents happen or hoping for the best against the odds.”
“And you don’t have protection with you?”
“That surprises you.”
“You seem like the type who’d be prepared.” She surveyed him through slightly narrowed eyes. “With all that military training and everything.”
He smiled. “This morning I came prepared to give you a driving lesson. I freely admit I had no intentions of touching you, let alone kissing you, or making love to you in the wilderness.”
“I’d hardly call this the wilderness.”
“Okay, in a neat grove of trees in the wilderness.”
She giggled. Then frowned. “So we can’t…you know.” She couldn’t believe she was talking about it aloud. But Gibran was so unconventional, even that didn’t feel so strange. It was refreshing to be able to express herself and even ask stupid questions. To find she was still a woman—with hot, urgent feelings—underneath all the queenly garb and courtly manners.
“Not now. But later….” He let out a ragged sigh, and tugged her close again. His mouth closed over hers, hot and urgent. Her breasts pressed into his chest, tingling with awareness. She could feel his arousal hard between them, as intense as the sensations pulsing deep in her core.
When their mouths parted, she couldn’t resist asking. “Tonight?”
“Tonight.” He stroked her cheek softly.
“But what about the guards?” Gibran himself had arranged for three handpicked guards to patrol her residence.
“I’ll take care of them.” His confidence reassured her. She didn’t have to worry about how he’d do it, she just knew that he would. “So perhaps now you should drive us back before we get into any more trouble.”
“Don’t you want to see my village?”
“Another time.” He gestured to his prominent erection. “I don’t think I’m in any shape to wander around an ancient settlement greeting people politely.”
“Sorry about that,” she said with a small smile.
“No, you’re not.” His dark, steady gaze roamed over her face, heating the skin. “And I’m not either. But don’t think you can change your mind later.” His eyes glittered with passion.
“I wouldn’t think of it.” Anticipation rushed through her at the prospect of what would happen tonight. Yes, there’d be time for doubts and fears in between, but she wouldn’t turn him away. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
They stood and brushed cypress needles off their clothes, then walked back to the car. Distracted and aroused, Aliyah fumbled with the controls, but once she got going, she drove effortlessly back to the palace. They even paused along the way so Gibran could show her new tricks like three point turns, and backing into a space.
“I hate to say it,” said Gibran, as they pulled up to the east gate. “But I believe our driving lessons are over. You no longer need them.”
“I’m not sure I can manage the tight streets of Nabattur yet.” She basked in his warm admiration.
Gibran let his gaze roam over her face and neck, stirring her anticipation. “I suspect that you can handle anything.”
She hesitated a moment, before opening the door. “I guess we’ll find out.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Aliyah put the girls to bed a little earlier than usual that night. One more reason to feel guilty. Normally story time was one of her favorite parts of the day, but right now she couldn’t concentrate on anything except Gibran coming to visit her—in bed.
She still coul
dn’t believe she’d been bold enough to agree. She was no virgin teen girl, of course, anxious to preserve her maidenhood. She was mature and experienced with what happened between man and woman. But the reality was that she’d never actually enjoyed that aspect of womanhood before. It had been a chore, a duty, part of her job as Queen, never something she’d looked forward to.
She paced about her room, dressed in a long pale cream robe with a gold hem. She was too restless to climb into bed, and the thought of literally lying there waiting for him made her feel far too vulnerable.
What if he didn’t show up?
He’d said he would and she believed him, though she had no idea how he’d get past the guards. What if someone saw him and their indiscretion was discovered? Panic flickered through her at the thought.
But the prospect of him simply not coming was far more alarming.
She’d avoided dinner with the family because she couldn’t look them in the eye when she knew what she planned to do tonight. And because he would be there. How could she glance casually at him, and make polite conversation about nothing, when she knew what they had planned? She’d spent some time with her black leopards. She could tell them all her troubles and they would nuzzle her in reassurance.
What was that?
She jumped at the sound of a creak outside the window. She didn’t want to pull back the curtains and look, though. If it was just one of the guards walking by she’d be embarrassed if he saw her in her nightgown. And would she and Gibran manage to stay quiet enough that the guards wouldn’t hear them?
A sound overhead made her pause. Was that a footstep on the roof? She wasn’t sure whether to be excited or afraid. What if it was another kidnapper sneaking in? She pricked her ears, listening for another footfall, but before she heard one, the curtains to her left billowed and Gibran appeared as if by magic.
She stood there, heart pounding, while an astonished grin spread across her face.
He bowed low, and a crooked grin snuck across his mouth.
She crossed the room to him quickly, anxious to touch him and make sure he was real and not a figment of her fevered imagination. “You came,” she whispered.
Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Page 55