by Kate Hewitt
‘Why?’
‘Because I had waited long enough and I could wait no longer. But we need not concern ourselves with politics tonight, hayete.’
My life. The endearment caught her by surprise, made her feel weirdly exposed, as if the careless words had revealed a need in her she’d been trying to hide. Olivia blinked at him, wishing she hadn’t drunk so much of the arak. Her whole body was buzzing, but not just from the alcohol. The effect this man had on her was far more intoxicating than the arak. It hardly seemed possible that she could react so instantly and overwhelmingly to a stranger, and a dangerous one at that, yet...
She could not deny it. He affected her, and he knew it.
With a small smile flirting with his lips, he leaned forward and cut off a wedge of cheese from the platter with a small, wicked-looking knife. He handed the wedge to her, his lids half-lowered, his smile glinting, making Olivia feel another insistent throb of desire, a pulse going through her whole body. ‘You should eat something. You have drunk much of the arak, considering you have never tasted it before.’
‘I—oh.’ Fumbling a bit, Olivia replaced the glass on the table. She would drink no more. After a second’s hesitation she took the slice of cheese from him, her fingers brushing his once again, and nibbled it. It was delicious, fresh and tangy, and made her realise how hungry she was. The hours of riding had sapped her strength and given her an appetite.
‘Good, yes?’
‘Yes, it is very good.’
He cut a wedge for himself and popped it in his mouth. ‘Have some grapes,’ he said after he had swallowed, and he took a bunch from the table.
Olivia finished her cheese, mesmerised by the sight of his long, lean fingers tearing off a bunch of the grapes. Everything about the man was sensual, sexual. She couldn’t escape it, couldn’t ignore the heat snaking through her, pooling low in her belly, the tension and expectancy shimmering in the air. It was all so unfamiliar yet felt so...wonderful.
There was no other word for it, strange as it seemed. She felt as if she’d imbibed some secret elixir and it now flowed through her veins. She craved even more of it, the fizzing fireworks, the slow, molten uncurling inside her, even as a part of her insisted she stop, she back away, she stay safe.
She reached for the grapes but with a smile the man gave a little shake of his head and plucked one from the bunch, holding it out between his fingers, a sleepy challenge now in that heavy-lidded gaze. Olivia stared at him uncertainly.
‘Open your mouth,’ he said softly, and her eyes widened with shock. The invitation was so blatant, except it wasn’t an invitation at all. It was a command, and one she should most certainly refuse. She should demand he release her; she should be acting outraged and angry, or even just afraid. Anything but this meek and wilful obedience, already enslaved to her own desire, and yearning for his. She was complicit in whatever was happening here, unspooling between them in a golden thread of sensation. Wordlessly, her gaze fixed on his, she opened her mouth.
* * *
Triumph and desire flared white-hot through Zayed as Halina parted her lips. She really was the most beguiling creature, seemingly without artifice...and perhaps she truly was. Perhaps he should take her at face value, although heaven knew that was not something he did, ever. He trusted no one, not even those closest to him. He could not afford to. But his bride’s innocence seemed total, her wide blue eyes utterly without guile, every reaction refreshingly honest, even a little gauche. She hid nothing. Perhaps he could at least trust that.
Letting his gaze linger on hers, letting her see the heat and need in it, he slid the grape into her mouth, brushing her full lower lip with his thumb. Halina gave a soft little gasp as she jerked back, her lips closing over the grape, her eyes heartbreakingly wide, reflecting every emotion as sensations chased through her—the taste of the grape, the touch of his fingers.
‘Delicious,’ Zayed said, his voice caressing the syllables, his gaze still on her. Her dark hair tumbled in silken waves about her shoulders, sooty lashes sweeping down to hide those stormy eyes. Where her tunic top gaped he could see the shadowy curves of her breasts and hips and it made him ache. She was utterly delectable, and he found he couldn’t wait to taste her.
And wait he would not... With every minute that passed, Zayed knew Sultan Hassan could be coming closer, sending out soldiers to rescue his daughter. Zayed needed their marriage to be unimpeachable by then. He needed it to be consummated. And, judging from Halina’s trembling reactions, she was not averse. Shy, perhaps, and undoubtedly innocent, but most certainly not averse.
She swallowed the grape with a gulp, lashes lifting as she gazed at him in obvious confusion. ‘Why are you doing this?’
Zayed leaned forward again. ‘Because I find you so very desirable, hayete.’ The endearment came naturally—she was his life, the key to all his ambitions, all his desires. And, while his body stirred and strained with sexual need, that was what he had to remember. This marriage was essential to retrieving his throne. His inheritance. His life.
‘But...’ Her tongue darted out to moisten those full, lush lips. Zayed nearly groaned at the artless gesture that had lust arrowing through him. ‘But you don’t even know me.’
‘I know enough. And this was always going to happen, hayete, was it not? It was decreed long before now. It was written in the stars.’ Flowery language for what had been a businesslike betrothal when they had been both so young, but it was a means to an end. His bride’s eyes widened and she seemed startled, and then shyly pleased. The words worked.
‘Was it?’ She shook her head to clear it. ‘Was that why you kidnapped me?’
‘But of course.’ He had taken her out of desire, but of a different kind. ‘Come,’ Zayed said and, standing, he reached for her hand and drew her towards him, letting his fingers slide along and then twine with hers.
Her whole body trembled as she stood before him, her head lowered, her lashes fanning her cheeks. ‘What...?’ Her voice was no more than a thread of sound. ‘What do you want with me?’
‘I want to make love to you.’ Zayed rested his hands on her shoulders, felt how impossibly slender she was, how fragile. ‘Slowly and sweetly.’ He bent his head to brush a kiss against her temple; her skin was soft and cool. ‘Is that what you want?’ His lips moved lower to press a kiss to the side of her neck. A shudder went through her body.
‘I...I don’t... I haven’t...’ In her nervousness she stuttered, and Zayed laughed softly, kissing the nape of her neck, letting his mouth linger. She smelled of lemons.
‘Hayete, I know.’
‘But...but...surely you didn’t bring me here for this?’ A soft moan escaped her as he placed one hand on her waist, fingers splaying to brush her hip and the underside of her breast. Her reaction to him was so complete and overwhelming it made the need arrow even more strongly inside him.
‘What if I did?’ he murmured, stroking the side of her breast with knowing fingers. He needed to go slowly, of course, but it was hard. Harder than he’d expected. His body was demanding to be sated, his thirst slaked. And his bride was so very willing in his arms, trembling as she was, her gaze wide and wondering as she tilted her head to gaze up at him.
‘You did...’
Was she painting some romantic picture of him as a white knight coming to steal her away because he couldn’t resist her? The prospect was laughable, yet so what if she believed it? If it helped in the moment, then so be it. He did desire her. Immensely. And that was enough.
‘I did,’ he assured her, and then he captured her mouth in a kiss.
CHAPTER THREE
IT WAS A kiss that stole her breath as well as a little bit of her soul. It was the first kiss Olivia had ever had, and she swayed beneath it as the man’s mouth moved persuasively over hers.
Her body was awash with sensation, her mind dazed and reeling. She’d never expected this to happen. She’d never expected to feel this way. She was being seduced, ruthlessly and thoroughly, and
she couldn’t even resist. She didn’t want to. The pleasure coursing through her in a hot, honeyed river was too strong for that.
The inner protestations that this man was a danger, her enemy, her abductor, fell utterly silent. She no longer cared. Even if this was merely a night and the man, stranger that he was, used her and then tossed her aside afterwards, Olivia knew she could not turn away from this. Not when she’d finally woken up, after a lifetime of sleeping. Not when every sense and nerve was tuned exquisitely, acutely. She felt. She felt so many wonderful things.
Tentatively, learning the steps of this new and intricate dance, she reached up to grip his shoulders, her fingertips grazing his skull. She pressed her body against his, thrilling to the feel of his hard, muscled chest and powerful thighs. And more than that...even in her innocence she recognised the insistent throb of his arousal against her stomach. She’d seen enough films, read enough romance novels, to recognise it and she thrilled to it, to him, all the more.
A groan escaped him as he tore his mouth from hers and took a step back from her. His expression was nearly as befuddled as her own, Olivia thought. They were both breathing heavily, staring at each other in dazed desire, the very air between them seeming to shimmer.
‘Come to bed,’ he said, and reached for her hand.
For a second Olivia hesitated. Here was the moment of clarity, of choice. Was she really willing to give up her virginity to a stranger? Would she do this, the most intimate and sacred of acts, with a man whose name she did not even know, who had kidnapped her, who had to be merely using her, no matter what flowery language he used? And yet he wanted her. That was no lie, no trick. He wanted her...and she loved the feeling of being wanted.
His fingers found hers and he tugged gently, a smile curving that mobile mouth. ‘Do not be afraid, hayete. Remember when I said I would never hurt you. That is, and always will be, my solemn vow.’
He spoke as if he knew her, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for her. Olivia knew he couldn’t have been. It was just words, sentiment, yet she believed him in this at least: he wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t let herself get hurt. A night and no more. How many women had made the same bargain, the same promise? There need be no regrets. She didn’t care who he was. All that mattered was what he made her feel right now.
He must have sensed her acquiescence for his mouth curved in a deeper smile, and Olivia saw the triumph flare in his eyes along with the desire. He pulled her gently towards him and she came, hips swaying, heart beating. Their bodies nudged and bumped and he gazed down at her, standing so close she could feel the beat of his heart against her own.
‘You are very beautiful. Very desirable.’
No one had ever said such things to her before. She was too skinny, too quiet, all hair and eyes. She didn’t have Halina’s generous curves and lush mouth, her engaging smile and contagious laughter. She always stayed in the background and no one ever noticed her at all. Until now.
Shyly she laid her hand on his chest, felt the steady thud of his heart underneath the press of her palm. ‘As are you.’
He laughed softly at that, and then he took her hand and raised it to his mouth, kissing her palm, his gaze never leaving hers. ‘Then we are well matched,’ he murmured, and his mouth moved from her palm to her fingertips, kissing and nibbling each one in turn until Olivia’s knees went weak.
The man drew her to the mattress, bringing her down to its feathery softness, the silken covers slippery beneath her. He stretched out alongside her, his body relaxed but his gaze so intent.
‘So very beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘But I want to see all of you. May I?’
Everything in Olivia trembled. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, unable to say anything more. He tugged at the ties of her robe so it fell open, revealing the simple chemise she wore underneath. Keeping his gaze on her, he reached out and cupped her breast, his thumb sliding over the peak, making her shudder. She’d never been touched so intimately, so knowingly.
‘You like that?’ he murmured, and she nodded jerkily.
‘Yes.’
He lowered his mouth to where his hand had just touched, and Olivia jerked again, arching off the mattress as his mouth closed over her breast, damp and hot, sending darts of intense sensation through her. She gripped his head, unsure if she wanted to anchor him to her or push him away, because it was so much. All her nerve endings felt flayed, yet she wanted more of him.
He moved his mouth to her other breast and she gasped out loud. The novels and films had never described it like this. And then he was moving lower, placing lazy kisses along her abdomen, her navel, and then lower still.
Olivia tensed as he nudged her thighs apart. Surely not...? But he was, his warm breath fanning her very centre, and she let out a long, shuddering sigh as he kissed her in the most intimate way possible. Pleasure licked through her veins and her hips arched helplessly, her fingers threaded through his hair, her body on fire. She’d never, ever felt anything like it; it consumed her. He did.
And then she felt as if she were burning right up; she cried out loud, a jagged sound, as pleasure exploded inside her, took her over, blazing through her. When she came to, everything hazy around her, he’d come up to rest on his forearms and was smiling down at her.
‘And that’s just the beginning.’
The beginning? He’d kill her, at this rate. Kill her with pleasure. He laughed softly. ‘Don’t look so disbelieving, hayete. I intend to make this a night you shall never forget.’
He already had. Still smiling, he shrugged out of his own clothes and then rid her of the rest of her own. Their bodies came together, naked, skin on skin, limbs twining and tangling. It felt so intensely intimate, to be pressed against someone like that, every part of herself on display, on offer for him. And he took it, his gaze roving over her, his mouth curved, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. He liked what he saw, and that thrilled her.
‘Touch me,’ he commanded, his voice a throb, and she gazed at him in surprise. Then, hesitantly, she let her hands drift from his powerful shoulders to the satiny skin of his back, and then down to his hips. His arousal pulsed against her, exciting and terrifying her all at once. But he’d told her not to be afraid, and somehow she wasn’t.
‘Touch me,’ he said again, his voice ragged, and Olivia knew what he meant. Feeling shy and bold at the same time, she moved her hand from his hip to curl around the pulsing length of his arousal. His breath hissed between his teeth as she stroked him, hardly able to believe that she could create this response in a man so fierce and beautiful.
He kissed her again, hard, the lazy sensuality he’d shown earlier now becoming something far more raw and primal that Olivia matched, the heat and need an insistent pulse inside her, an ache that demanded satiation—again.
He slid his fingers to her core, moving against her slick heat, making her moan. ‘You’re ready,’ he said and Olivia tensed, knowing she was, of course she was, and yet...
Slowly, surely, he slid inside her, an invasion that felt both shocking and overwhelming, the smooth slide of him filling her right up. She gasped out loud, her hips twitching in instinctive discomfort as she struggled to accommodate the sheer size of him.
Sweat sheened on his brow as he braced himself on his forearms and held himself still inside her, waiting for her to adjust to the entirely unfamiliar sensation. ‘You are not hurt?’ he asked through gritted teeth. Holding back was clearly a huge effort.
Wordlessly Olivia shook her head. She felt too overwhelmed to speak, too emotional. The dazed pleasure that had drugged her senses was trickling away, replaced by a tidal wave of realisation at the enormity of what she’d done. What could not be undone.
As if sensing her thoughts, he brushed a tendril of hair from her forehead and then pressed a kiss against her temple, the gesture almost as intimate as the pulse of his body inside hers. ‘It is all right, hayete. This is right, what is between us. There is no shame in it. None at all.’
Her body was relaxing into him, instinctively learning his shape, accepting it, and his words were the balm she so desperately needed. She put her arms around his taut shoulders, drawing him closer, bringing him even more fully into herself, gasping at the feel of it. It was as if he’d gone right into her centre, invaded her soul.
‘Please,’ she whispered, needing something more from him, craving it. ‘Please.’ And then he began to move, each slow thrust creating a delicious friction that had the pleasure rushing back, lapping at her senses in wave after wave of sensation and then engulfing her entirely.
Her cry shattered the still air as he pulsed inside her and her body felt as if it were dissolving into sated fragments. She cried again, a sob of joy and wonder, as she pressed her face against his damp shoulder, her body shuddering underneath his as the waves subsided but the wonder remained.
* * *
Zayed held his bride in his arms as she shuddered and wept, clearly overwhelmed by what they had experienced. Hell, but he was overwhelmed too. It had been a long time since he’d lain with a woman, a very long time. Yet he didn’t think it had ever felt like this.
Was it different, perhaps, knowing his life was linked with this woman for ever? She would bear his children; she would stand by his side. She was his bride, his wife, his Queen. Yet none of that had been in his mind when he’d held her, when he’d been inside her. The need to consume her had been too overpowering—and that was a dangerous thing.
He didn’t need people, just as he didn’t trust them. Betrayal had taught him the latter; grief had taught him the first. Zayed rolled onto his back and stared up at the roof of the tent as Halina lay quietly beside him, faint tremors still going through her body.
‘You are not in any discomfort?’ he asked eventually and she pushed her hair away from her flushed face.
‘No...no.’ She looked rosy and satisfied and a little bit uncertain. He wanted her all over again, so he rolled away from her, into a sitting position.