“I CAN GIVE you pleasure.”
The wind had died down, the light was off, and the sound of a gently plucked string on a rababeh carried from one of the other tents. They weren’t expected to appear before morning so they had turned in early. Galila had formed a dam down the center of the mattress with a rolled mat and a few cushions before asking Karim which side he wanted.
“Everything that happens in bed between us will be your choice,” was his response.
She had sat there stunned by what sounded like a vow, trying to understand why she felt both moved and overwhelmed. It felt like too much responsibility for a woman who knew so little about the things she might want from her marriage bed.
And now, in the darkest dark, he was telling her he could teach her.
She wanted to say something cynical but couldn’t find any words, let alone form them with her dry mouth and even drier throat.
“Are you awake?” he asked in a quieter voice.
“Yes.” She probably should have stayed silent and let him think she had missed hearing what he said, but she revealed her wakefulness and died a little inside. She threw her wrist across her eyes, wanting to go back thirty hours or so and never take a single sip of brandy at her brother’s wedding.
The silence between them grew with expectation.
“I can give myself pleasure,” she pointed out, glad for the dark so he wouldn’t see her blush at the admission she was making.
Silence was his answer, but she swore she could hear him smiling.
“Don’t even pretend you don’t...” She couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Read the footnotes?” he suggested.
“Oh, yes, you’re a delight in bed. So glad I can share this one with you.” She turned her back on him and clenched her eyes shut. Her fist knotted in the edge of the blanket and nestled it tight under her chin.
After a pensive few minutes, he said, “I had to take advantage of the opportunity you presented me, Galila.”
“Yes, well, I’m not presenting one now. Perhaps give me some quiet so I can get my beauty sleep.”
“For various reasons, I never thought you and I would be a good fit, despite the fact my advisors consistently brought you to my attention. You seemed young, wayward and superficial.”
“Are you sure you’re not a virgin? Because you’re offering very little pleasure with remarks like that.”
“No one else appealed to me, though.” He sounded almost as if this was a surprise revelation only occurring to him now, one that dismayed him. He sounded disturbed, even.
She sighed. “Please don’t make this about my looks, Karim. That’s no better than using me for political gain.”
“I didn’t come to the wedding intending to make an offer for you. I wouldn’t have kissed you if you hadn’t kissed me first. But when we did...”
“Karim.” She was glad for the dark because she was wincing with mortified agony. “I know you weren’t as involved as I was. I felt your...” She swallowed. “Distance. Before we were seen.”
“That only proves how attuned we are to one another. Physically.”
“No! It proves you can manipulate me with my body while I have no such power over you.”
He shifted abruptly, voice now coming from the space above and behind her shoulder, telling her he was propped on an elbow. “Did you want me to lose myself and make love to you against the wall where everyone could see us?”
“I wanted you not to use me!”
“I’m offering you a chance to use me.”
“You’re not that simplistic. Or generous. You’re going to get me all worked up, then say, ‘Why don’t we go all the way?’ Not my first rodeo, cowboy.”
“Am I?”
“What?”
“Going to get you all worked up? Because I know how to settle myself down. You have no fear I’ll prevail on you to provide my happy ending.”
“Oh!” She buried her cry of frustration into her pillow. “Fine,” she declared with the impulsiveness that had earned her a reputation for being exactly as spoiled and wayward as everyone thought her. “Go ahead and prove there’s something in this marriage for me. Give me all this pleasure you’re so convinced you can provide.”
Nothing. No compliments or commands. He didn’t move.
She suspected he still hovered over her, but it was too dark to tell. She turned to face him, one hand inching just enough to feel the silk tassel on the cushion still between them.
He drew the rolled mat out of the way and his hand bumped hers when he sought the cushion. He kept hold of her hand.
She didn’t know what to do. Pull away? Let her hand rest in his? She was nervous. Curious. Furious. Frustrated in more ways than one.
He lifted her hand and rubbed his lips against her knuckle. The short whiskers of his closely trimmed beard were silky soft where the backs of her fingers brushed against them.
“This isn’t about how you look, Galila,” he breathed across her skin. “I can’t see you. It’s about how we make each other feel.”
“How do you feel?”
His humid breath bathed her palm before he spoke into it. “I’ll let you know when you get there.”
The light play of his mouth exploring her skin, the dampness when he opened his lips, sent heady tingles through her entire body. When he pressed a kiss into her palm and set his blazingly hot mouth against the inside of her wrist, tongue swirling against her pulse, she gasped at the wave of arousal that throbbed through her. It sent heaviness into her loins, stinging tightness to the tips of her breasts, and a helpless sob to catch in her throat.
“How are you doing this to me?” He was touching her hand.
“What am I doing? Tell me. I can’t see you.”
“You’re—” She didn’t want to admit he was seducing her. “I can’t breathe. My heart feels like I’ve run miles.”
He moved her hand to his neck, setting the heel of her palm against his smooth throat, next to where his Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. The artery there held a powerful pulse, one that was quick and hard.
“You’re excited?” she asked.
“Of course.”
No. He was tricking her again. But she found herself doing what she had last night, acting out of instinct, but this time her fingers were in his thick, silky hair. She urged him down and somehow their mouths found each other despite the blinding darkness.
The lack of light amplified the acuteness of her senses. Such a rush of heat went into her lips, her mouth stung under his, assuaged by the lazy way he settled into the kiss, easing her lips to part. She was the one to seek a deeper kiss by searching for his tongue with her own and moaned as their kiss grew fully involved.
His arm snaked around her and he tucked her half beneath him, weight settling more heavily on her. Then he lifted his head just enough to say, “Say yes,” against her lips.
He wanted this to be her choice and it was. His bare chest pressed where the straps of her nightgown left her upper chest bare and she had never felt anything like that specific heat and texture. It was intoxicating.
“Yes,” she whispered, arching to pull her hair out from beneath her.
It brushed against his skin, and he made a noise that suggested he had to reach for restraint.
“This might become my obsession,” he said, gathering the long waves and burying his face in it. When he turned his head, his mouth was against her nape. He licked into the hollow beneath her ear and sucked on her earlobe, making her whimper in delight.
His touch moved to play his barely there fingertips against the silk of her nightgown, following the band of lace beneath her breasts where it hid her navel, coming back to climb the slippery silk alongside the swell of her breast. By the time his touch met where his lips had strayed, and he began to ease the narrow strap down her shoulder, her breasts were swollen and aching. She was so needy, she was feeling wild. Her own hands were moving restlessly across his shoulders, excited but apprehensive.
“I’m going to make love to you with my mouth,” he said in a voice that barely penetrated the rush of blood in her ears. “That’s not a pleasure you can give yourself.”
Was that what she wanted? She didn’t know, but she was too caught up in the sensation of his beard across the top of her breast. He bared it and she stopped being able to think straight. The heat of his breath warned her just before his mouth engulfed her nipple, but nothing could have prepared her for the way electricity seemed to shoot through her, stabbing into her heart so she thought it would burst. Sexual need raced in sharp lines to her loins, making her tingle and tremble as he pulled and laved and cupped the swell in his big hand and flicked his tongue against the turgid tip.
She could feel herself growing damp and slick. Heard wanton noises escaping her throat. She wanted him to keep sucking her nipples, but wanted to kiss him, too. It was the sweetest torture and she actually lifted and offered herself when he eased the other strap down, desperate for the delicious torture on her other breast.
Oh, he was making her crazy. She swirled her hands through his hair, over his damp neck, across his shoulders. The dip of his spine was an intriguing place and she even wickedly slipped her hand down to touch his chest, finding his own nipples sharp as shards of glass.
He rose to kiss her mouth again, hard and thorough. She moaned her approval, body rolling into his of its own volition, knee crooking.
When he ran his hand down her hip, he pushed the blankets away at the same time. Then he gathered the skirt of her nightgown, drawing it up so her legs felt the cool night air. It was erotic and almost a relief, she was so hot, but it was a moment of truth. Was this really what she wanted?
The darkness was a wonderful place, allowing her to hide and somehow protect her modesty as his touch strayed inward and brushed the damp hair between her thighs. He caressed her swollen lips, more of tease, so entrancing she allowed her thighs to relax open.
He didn’t get the message and continued being so gentle, she wanted to sob with frustration. She was nothing but an agony of anticipation, waiting, longing, yearning for a firmer touch.
He shifted and slid down, pressed her legs wider, beard brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, sweeping in brush strokes that made her gasp and quiver with need. When he turned his face against one thigh and the other, refusing to make contact where she pulsed with molten heat, she sobbed, “Karim.”
“You want my mouth here?” His wide palm settled on her mound, the pressure not nearly firm enough.
He wanted her full surrender. She instinctively knew this wasn’t compromise. It was his way of forcing her to accept his will, but it was such a wickedly delicious way. Seductive. Impossible to resist.
“I do,” she admitted, feeling as though she gave herself up to him with the words, binding herself irrevocably to him. “I do, I do.”
Openmouthed kisses edged closer. He parted her with delicate care, then wet heat slid along her most intimate flesh. Glittering pleasure suffused her, waves of growing arousal that rose as his attentions deepened. In fact, her level of involvement skyrocketed so fast and high, she didn’t know how to handle it.
He paused, causing her to open her mouth in a silent scream of agony. Only his hot breath caressed her as he spoke in a graveled tone.
“Use your words, my pretty bird. I can’t tell if you’re struggling because you don’t like it or you like it too much.”
“Too much,” she gasped. “So much. Please. Keep going.”
He held her thighs open with firm hands, muting the buck of her hips as he took his time, seeming to recognize when she was on the brink of climax, then slowing to hold her on that plateau, forcing her to languish in that place of mindlessly unbearable perfection.
She stroked her fingers into his hair again, thinking this was ridiculous and far too personal, but she didn’t care. She only wanted him to keep doing this forever, yet she could barely withstand the intensity of this pleasure. Not much longer. Couldn’t. Absolutely couldn’t bear it.
He pressed his mouth over her with firm possession, causing her to hit the crest of her wave with a cry of loss and triumph. Her entire body shuddered as the climax rolled through her in powerful waves.
He remained attentive, ensuring every last pulse was teased to its fullest degree, until she was spent and splayed, panting in the dark. She felt the dampness on her lashes against the arm she threw over her eyes. Yes, that had been so good, she had wept from the power of it.
He lifted away from her but remained between her legs so she couldn’t close them. She was aware of his rapid movements, heard his shaken breath, then his long, jagged, relieved sigh.
She dropped her arm and blinked, trying to see him in the absolute dark.
“Did you—?”
“Yes.” He stretched out beside her.
She felt a little cheated. Her hands itched to explore him.
He only turned her so she was spooned into his front. Her nightgown was still up around her hips, but he stopped her from trying to pull it down between them.
“Let me feel you against me.” His hand smoothed up her hip, then down to settle on her abdomen. His lips touched her shoulder. “Think about how good it will be when I’m inside you and we come together.”
When? Did he really want to wait until after their formal ceremony?
The naked contact with him was delicious. In fact, latent desire made the flesh of her mound tingle at the proximity of his hand. He might have given himself release, but he was still firm against her bare buttocks and she was already wondering how it would feel to have him moving inside her while she shattered. She didn’t know if she wanted to wait until tomorrow morning, let alone two weeks from now.
Which had no doubt been his plan all along. Ruthless, vexing man.
His arm around her grew heavy as he relaxed into sleep, but she continued to blink into the darkness. She was starting to realize the power she had handed him by letting him take her to such heights. He was in her head now, making her eager to feel exactly what he had suggested. Him, moving inside her while they shattered in unison. He was making her want what he willed.
How would she take herself back from that?
* * *
Karim left his wife sleeping soundly beneath the light blanket. He was hard as titanium, more than primed to fully consummate his marriage, but he was master of himself. Not her. Not this need he had stoked by pleasuring her last night.
It was a toss-up as to which of them had enjoyed that more, much to his consternation. Had it been self-indulgent to offer himself like that? Absolutely. When he had settled beside her, he had had no intention of touching her.
But he did want this marriage to work. He did expect progeny from her. And yes, maybe his ego had been stinging from that remark she’d made about not desiring his children. He had definitely wanted to remind her that she desired him. That there was something he offered her that no one else could.
Maybe he had needed to prove it to himself, a dark voice whispered. Maybe he had wanted to prove he could pleasure her without losing command of himself—which he very nearly had. If she had invited him to deflower her, he would have been lost completely.
No, all he had proved last night was that the sexual connection between them was so potent, he couldn’t entirely trust himself to be alone with her. It was exactly the depth of irrational passion he refused to succumb to the way his father had.
He would wait until they were formally married, if only to prove he could.
To that end, he steeled himself and stepped out to the cool morning air, found clean clothes for both of them in the helicopter, then did his preflight check while tribesmen brushed the sand off the blades and footings. He was drinking coffee with the men on the far side of the camp when Galila emerged from their tent in the linen pants and T-shirt the women had taken in to her.
Her gaze scanned the encampment until she found him. Pink stained her cheeks and sensual memory softened her expression. Her tentative smile invited him to smile back.
It took everything in him to stay rooted where he was and not cross to touch her. A nearly overwhelming pull urged him to move forward and press her back into their tent for the kind of lovemaking that drummed like a beat in his groin. A kiss, at least.
He confined himself to a cool nod of acknowledgment.
He was already glancing away when he saw her expression stiffen. He glanced back and her lashes had swept down. She quickly gave her attention to some children who approached, but her cheer seemed forced. She didn’t look his way again as she was drawn into the circle of women and children.
His blood stayed hot with memory as he watched her. Her response to him had been exquisite. Explosive. Everything he could want in a wife—if he wasn’t a man who knew there was a high cost to high passion. Seducing her had been a pleasure and a strategic move, but it had also been something that could all too easily take him over if he wasn’t careful.
He watched her charm that side of the encampment as he continued his discussion with the elders in this tribe.
Karim might not have known Adir al-Zabah was his half brother, but he had heard the name through the years. Adir was renowned in the desert for his toughness and strong leadership, very much revered among the nomads. They couldn’t tell Karim what family Adir had come from, however. His parents were unknown.
They asked why he was inquiring, but he brushed aside his questions as idle curiosity. The burden of secrets was his alone to carry.
* * *
The way the women and children adulated her was a much-needed balm to Galila’s ego after Karim had barely acknowledged her this morning. She knew it was pathetic that she drank up this sort of starstruck wonder like water, but it filled a hollow spot her mother had carved with the hot-cold sway of her affections.
Sometimes Galila wondered if her desire for validation and appreciation ran deeper than that, and was a shared character flaw she had inherited from her mother. Perhaps it wasn’t just an enjoyment of being recognized, but an expectation of glorification. Her mother had always acted as if the way her husband doted on her was natural and something to which she was entitled.
That certainly wasn’t something Galila could anticipate from her husband, she acknowledged with a clench of hurt when he sent a young boy over to relay the message that it was time to leave.
She made promises to the women of supplies and aid as she said goodbye, enjoying the way they blessed her and touched her arms, asked her to kiss a baby and pray for a good marriage for the unmarried girls among them.
Karim waited until they were airborne and waving down at the Bedouins before speaking to her. They were connected via the microphone on the headsets again, making the communication feel almost more like a phone call. “You don’t have to send anything. I asked the men. They don’t need anything.”
She heard something like her brothers’ disparaging cynicism in his tone. They didn’t buy regard with magnanimous acts the way she seemed to try to.
“It is a mark of pride among them, I’m sure, to insist that they meet the needs of their women without help,” she responded. “It’s little things. Teething gel for the boy who was crying. Feminine supplies for the young girl who is too embarrassed to ask for it. Things that aren’t easy to come by out here. If you don’t want to pay for it, I will.” She had ample funds that had been set aside for her as part of her marriage contract.
“Of course, I’ll pay for it,” Karim said impatiently.
She curled the corner of her mouth. All men were created equal when it came to impugning their pride, apparently.
He didn’t realize how happy she was to spend other people’s money on the needs of the less fortunate, however.
She quickly accepted his offer, adding, “I would appreciate very much if I could say you underwrote the things I send, since I also want to include some books for the girls. There seems to be controversy as to whether education is for all the children. It would go a long way if you made it clear you expect everyone to learn to read, not just the boys.”
“I do.” He wore a scowl as they approached the outskirts of Nabata, as if the remark struck a nerve.
Someone hailed him and he relayed an expected time of arrival, then returned to speaking to her.
“I realize we’ve fallen behind our neighbors in some ways. When my father was alive, my mother spearheaded women and children initiatives, but she has largely been not much more than a figurehead since his death. Without strong leadership, things have stagnated, rather than continuing to progress. Would you take up that mantle?”
Her first instinct was to leap on the opportunity. In Khalia, she had been her mother’s envoy, often earning the credit but not receiving it. There were many times when she hadn’t agreed with her mother’s decisions, but had had to go along with her because she was a loyal subject of the queen and a dutiful daughter.
“Would I have to run everything by you?” she asked.
“Is that so unreasonable? I’m all for advancements, Galila, but at a pace people can adapt to.”
She supposed that was fair, but: “Are you just offering me this role because you know I like it? As a way to persuade me into accepting our marriage?”
“What I offered last night wasn’t enough?” he asked in a silky tone that caused a shiver to trickle down her spine.
She refused to look at him.
A moment later, he clicked a button and spoke again to the voice she presumed was at the landing pad. The palace appeared and captured all her attention.
It was clearly the product of centuries of additions. The highest dome dominated the center structure while annexes stretched in four directions, each with a variety of smaller domes, flat roofs, solar panels and even an arch of solarium windows over a great hall of some kind. From each of these four legs grew smaller additions, apartments perhaps—there were a number of small pools and courtyards with palms and fountains.
He landed in a circle on one of the highest rooftops where three other helicopters of various sizes were already tethered. They were hanging their headphones on the hooks above the windscreen when he spoke again.
“How you come to terms with our marriage is up to you, but it is a fact. You may weigh in on the details of our celebration as you see fit, but my staff is perfectly capable of making it happen without your input. As for representing the women of my country—our country—I would like you to be their voice, if you’re willing. Is that something you would enjoy or not?”
She hesitated, drew a breath and admitted, “Each time I say yes to you, I feel a piece of me fall away. It’s not the same for you, though, is it?”
People were approaching to tether the helicopter, but he didn’t look away from her, only said a quiet, “No.”
It hurt a lot more than she had braced herself for, pushing a thickness into her throat and a pressure behind her eyes.
“Is this still about love, Galila? Look at my mother. You don’t want that. Be practical and accept this marriage for the beneficial partnership it can be.”
To whom? Everyone but her.
She was being offered the chance to elevate the living conditions of a country full of women for the low price of her own freedom and the loving marriage she had always promised herself.
“I’ve never understood how people live without love.” Her brothers did, maybe because they hadn’t been loved in the first place. She had, though, and maybe that was proof that Karim was right. She had grown addicted to being seen as special and valuable and wanted. Losing her mother’s love was still a deep and agonizing wound.
She knew better than to fall into another situation where she was yearning for feelings that weren’t there, yet here she was, distantly hoping he would come around and feel something toward her.
“It’s not that difficult,” Karim replied drily, essentially driving a coffin nail into her heart. “Come. Let me show you our home.”
“Well, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I? Not unless I want to throw myself off the edge of this roof and end things right now.”
“Why would you say that?” His voice lashed at her, quick and snapping sharp as a whip. “Don’t ever say anything like that. Ever.”
His vehemence had her recoiling in her seat, heart hammering. She recalled with chagrin that his father had fallen from a balcony here. “I didn’t mean—”
He cut her off with a chop of his hand through the air between them and disembarked, then impatiently demanded she come out behind him, picking her up and releasing her with abrupt motions.
He exchanged a few words with someone, then hurried her out of the heat and into the relief of air conditioning where a handful of personnel awaited them, all wearing attentive expressions.
“Cantara.” He introduced a middle-aged woman in traditional dress with heavily made-up eyes, a wide smile and a tablet and stylus at the ready. “My mother’s assistant, when she’s here at the palace. Cantara will show you around and help you hire the staff you need. I’m required elsewhere.”
He strode away. The rest of the staff flowed into position behind him like birds in a flock, making him seem to disappear.
She waited, but he didn’t look back. Last night’s intimacy was forgotten. It certainly hadn’t changed anything in his agenda.
“I’ve had tea prepared in your chamber. May I show you there?”
Galila found a polite smile and dutifully followed where she was led.
* * *
Karim forced himself not to look back, but he still saw Galila. Heard her.
How did each word she spoke have such power over him? She loaded a single glance with a thousand emotions, saying, I’ve never understood how people live without love, while a kaleidoscope of despair and confusion, yearning and wistfulness took their turn across her angelic face. Somehow, she caused those feelings to be reflected in him, twisting his conscience at the same time, which was distinctly uncomfortable.
And when he tried to move her past her melancholy, she thrust a knife from a completely unexpected direction, flippantly suggesting she throw herself to her death the way his father had done.
Whatever pangs of guilt had reverberated through him had been slapped out by that statement, sparking his temper with the power of a lightning strike.
That slam of energy had had its roots in a white-hot fear. He would never wish his experience on anyone, certainly could never face witnessing something so traumatic again, but somehow knew it would be especially devastating if she did it.
He’d smacked a hard lid on that sort of talk, seeing how wary his outburst made her, but he didn’t even want her to dare think of doing something so horrific, let alone threaten it.
The entire five-minute conversation had left her limpid eyed and looking abandoned as a child when he left her with an assistant and turned away.
Perhaps she was entitled to some bewilderment. Their lovemaking had been so powerful, he had stooped to reminding her of it himself, unable to dismiss it from his mind. He wanted her to recall every twitch and sigh and caress. It was all he could think about.
But it was completely reckless to let himself be so distracted and preoccupied by carnal desires. He had married her to keep a secret that could rattle swords in both their countries—upend the entire region, even. Not to mention the personal cost to all of them. Her mother’s affair was already a sore topic with her and her siblings. He didn’t want to force painful discussions on them any more than he wanted them himself.
No. She might open herself to him and offer a type of pleasure he had never experienced, lure him like a bee to a nectar-laden flower, but he had to remain stoic and indifferent. And after the way she had behaved at the wedding? Getting drunk and spilling what she had to him? There was no way he could entrust her with the rest. Too much depended on him keeping their parents’ affair a secret.
To do that, he had to keep her contained, yet at a distance. In his palace, in his apartment, but not in his bed. It was best for all their sakes.