Chapter 5
Her arms encircled his neck as he picked her up and carried her into the palace. Burying her head into his chest, the steady beat of his heart thumped against her cheek. Nestled in his powerful arms, her distress faded; she felt invulnerable. He tightened his grip, sealing them together.
As Malik mounted the wide curved staircase, a few of the palace workers appeared and then quickly scurried out of sight. She was grateful. She’d had enough appraisal for one day.
When they reached the second floor, thick, massive doors guarded his quarters. With the ease of Ali Baba, he opened them, stepped through the large portal, and then kicked them shut.
Nothing could have prepared her for the shock of seeing his suite. Eyes wide in wonder, she felt tiny amidst its palatial vastness. A small gasp of astonishment escaped her lips as he let her slide to her feet, the pleasant abrasion of heated skin against heated skin pushing the limits of her control.
Gold ornamental arches divided the immense room into smaller spaces designed for the pure pleasure of its master. Spacious doors opened to a terra cotta balcony that offered a spectacular view of the polychromatic Arabian Sea. Salt-tinged air saturated the room—a virtual refuge for the senses. Her eyes slid shut as she enjoyed the heady sensation. A sense of serenity enveloped her. She never wanted to leave this captivating spot or its captivating master.
“Do you like it?” he said, placing a guiding hand on her hip.
“It’s incredible. Fit for a king. Your own private sanctum.” She shut her eyes, fearing that this had all been some crazy dream—that she’d awake to a boring, unremarkable life, next to a boring, unremarkable man.
“Follow me,” he gently commanded, placing a whisper of a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes flew open.
Anywhere. The word came to mind, unbidden.
They rounded the corner into a more private space and she blinked, once, twice, as she stared at the wondrous room in front of her. Gold silk draped the mammoth round bed that resembled something out of the Ottoman Empire—enormous purple silk pillows and luxurious sheets covered the bed. Persian rugs, a mixture of gold and amethyst, swathed the floors.
Brass lanterns hung from the vaulted ceiling, swinging gently in the sea breeze. A shiver of anticipation ran through her. They might have been joking about the harem earlier, but this room had been plucked right out of her book. There was no mistaking that this was his domain. His lair. Upon entering the room, her mind immediately veered to sex. He could do whatever he liked with her, and she’d be happy to oblige him. Her pent-up breath rushed out in a surprised gasp.
Pictures of his family dotted the bedstand and dresser, laughing group shots representing a very loving family. She felt she already knew them after her long discussion with Malik last night, but putting faces to the names added to her perception of his loss. She picked up a picture of the entire group to get a closer look. How did he live with such a tragedy?
They were two people so alike, her missing the memories of her life and him fighting to forget the torment of losing his family. Her shoulders slumped under the weight of the unknown. Would either of them ever know any peace?
His cell phone pinged as a text message came in. Quickly he glanced at the screen and then shoved the phone into his jeans.
Soundlessly, he came up behind her. “That was taken just weeks before they were killed.” She continued to stare. Malik looked much younger and more carefree. Now he appeared sterner, hardened. She returned the picture to the dresser, her fingers sliding over the slick wood.
She rotated to face him, hoping to gauge his mood, before turning back to the display of family pictures. The tautness of his skin around his lips confirmed her suspicions. His sorrow over the loss of his family was as raw today as it must have been a year ago.
“Let’s continue what we started on the terrace . . .”
Before she could even form an answer, his arms encircled her waist, pulling her back into his body. His lips grazed the tender skin of her neck, desire punching her in the gut. She flinched and peeked out the window, remembering the extreme to which those men went to take those pictures.
“Don’t give those parasites from the boat another thought. I meant what I said. My men have destroyed the pictures, so you have nothing to fear.”
She forced a smile, crossing her hands over her chest, seeking courage. She hoped he was right. If someone she loved saw her that way . . .
She jerked her mind back to the present moment. “But, I’ve seen pictures of you . . .”
He raised an eyebrow. “What kind of pictures?”
“Magazine pictures? And some of them are—well—shocking! You couldn’t stop those from being printed.”
“Who says I wanted to? Those women exploited me for their own reasons. They knew they would be photographed with me, and they craved the publicity to further their careers. You, on the other hand . . . I want to protect.” As if adding significance to his words, he tightened his arms around her. Pushing down on his entrapping hands, she stepped out of his grasp and turned to face him. He pulled her to him again. She once again used her hands against his bare chest, his heat scorching the pads of her fingers, to give herself some needed space. She required some answers.
“Why?”
He frowned. “Isn’t it obvious?” His voice was soft and gentle, and oh-so-coaxing.
His tenderness nearly undid her. Who would have guessed that such an aggressive, regal man could have such a compassionate nature?
He lowered his head, startling her with an open-mouthed kiss against her feverish neck. “Relax,” he whispered into her ear. “It’s just you and me. Nobody is going to judge anything we do in this room, and I plan on doing some spectacular things to you.”
Her hand stroked his bare chest. “Maybe that’s why I’m so nervous.”
His head jerked up, “What? After all your big talk about the harem, now you go shy on me?”
She nibbled her bottom lip, searching for the words to explain what she was experiencing. “You’ve been with the most beautiful women in the world.” She chewed harder on her lip, nervous as hell. “What if I’m not enough to satisfy your needs?”
That incredible sexy smile of his lifted the corner of his lips. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about pleasing me. Just being here with you does that for me. Anything else is icing on the cake.”
She closed her eyes, drinking in the nearness of him, the heat of him. He was every woman’s fantasy, and tonight, implausibly, he was all hers.
“Malik, I . . .” She never finished her sentence, his lips descended hard against hers, taking her by surprise.
Hot, moist flesh molded intimately against hers. After several minutes, he broke the kiss and stared down into her eyes.
“Relax.” His deep chuckle took a toll on her feminine anticipation as her mind continued to imagine them amorously entwined amid the silken sheets of his massive bed. The beat of her heart accelerated into a pounding pace.
Relax? Here, alone with him? Not in a million years.
A gust of sea breeze whipped the gossamer curtains around, and the temperature in the room plummeted. A chill of unknown origin rifled up her spine as the memory of a dark figure flashed across her brain.
She shivered.
He intercepted it.
“Jane, are you cold?” he asked, his arms enfolding her into the oven of his body. “I know just the remedy for chills.”
Releasing her, he grasped her hand and led her toward a pair of double doors. Opening them, he revealed a sunken Roman tub big enough for at least ten people. A kaleidoscope of blue mosaic tile lined the pool and the steps leading down into its depths. The enormous royal crest—a squawking hawk grasping a scimitar within his talons—dominated the design at the bottom. Lining the walls, massive golden ginger planters held towering palms. A small gold table held a chilled pitcher of water where sliced strawberries and oranges floated. The intoxicating mixture of sandalwood and eucalyptus permeated the air. She inhaled deeply, drawing the relaxing scents into her center. Two luxurious robes she longed to dig her fingers into were draped over a divan. Malik flipped a switch on the wall, and the room filled with the enchanting music of flutes. A tray filled with an array of lotions and oils was perched on the side of the massive bath, just waiting for her to pick her favorite. Mirrors covered the towering ceiling. It was a sanctuary right out of The Arabian Nights. A giddy, euphoric sensation overtook her.
Malik threaded his fingers through hers as he pulled her further into the room. Hunkering down, he pushed a button. Immediately water sprang from wide golden spouts, spilling into the glorious tub, the droning sound of rushing water chasing away those pesky doubts of hers. The jets kicked in and the water began to swirl, causing a sultry mist to rise from the water. Glancing up at the mirrors, she gasped at the striking image of a shirtless Malik towering over the gyrating water. Huge, fluffy, pastel blue towels were stacked neatly on the steps leading to the bath. He dragged two to the edge of the basin.
Feathering his knuckles down her cheek, he said, “Just what the doctor ordered for a beautiful, nervous woman.”
How could she not laugh with him when he was like this?
“That’s one smart doctor. Maybe I should get involved with him?”
He brushed the pad of his thumb slowly across her lip, the calloused pad leaving tendrils of pleasure in its path. “And give up the desert sheik? I’m surprised. I thought you preferred an exotic, robed lover.”
Her heart lurched in her chest. “Right now, I prefer my desert sheik out of his robes.”
She watched his pupils dilate, nearly covering the blue of his irises. “That can certainly be arranged.”
Blushing to the ends of her hair, she lowered her lashes before burrowing deeper into the circle of his arms. When she offered her lips up to him again, he eagerly accepted the invitation. As her tongue darted into his mouth, a groan vibrated through his chest, rumbling his sculptured muscles. He mumbled, “Habib albi, love of my heart,” into her ear, picked her up, and carried her to the steps leading into the steaming water before letting her stand on her own feet. As the water continued to rise, the billowing mist fogged the mirrors, transforming their blurred images into mystic figures out of a dreamland. If this was a dream, she never wished to wake.
She raised her arms, and he pulled his shirt over her head. Then, his gaze locked on hers, he inched her bathing suit bottom down her legs. Slowly, she stepped out of the suit, leaving her completely naked. Heat flared up her spine. She crossed her arms over her chest suddenly embarrassed. He reached up and grasped her hands. Bringing them to his lips he kissed their palms. Then, his gaze started at her toes, and slid upward, taking his time as he burned a path to her face. “Beautiful,” he murmured in a hoarse whisper, just a nanosecond before his lips covered hers again.
The long, intense kiss lasted a lifetime. She pulled back so she could look into his eyes. “I definitely prefer my desert sheik like this—wild and untamed.” She tapped a perfectly manicured nail against her lips.
He groaned out loud as he chucked off his jeans, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the depths of the gargantuan tub. When he stepped off the last step, he released her into the depths of the rotating water. As the waist-deep water lapped at her skin, her fear became a distant memory. A small moan of pure joy escaped her lips as she sat, the warm water lapping up around her neck.
He moved over to the golden knobs, adjusting them to the perfect temperature. Using his biceps, he pulled himself out of the tub, splashing water over the side and onto the blue tile that rimmed the entire room. She watched as the well-formed muscles of his buttocks contracted with each of his movements. He walked over to the huge dresser against the wall. After rifling through the drawers for a few moments, he pulled out a canister of purple bath salts.
His eyes connecting with hers, he sprinkled the salts over the rising water. The scent of lavender filled the room in a sensual wave. He slid back into the bath, advancing on her with purpose. She swallowed hard as she took in his broad shoulders, his carved abdomen. He followed the path of her eyes, a smug smile on his lips. He suddenly seemed very big, very masculine, and extremely predatory.
With one arm, he tugged her to him. Then . . . his hands were everywhere, traveling up and down her body, building the heat between them into a blistering tempest. His fingers grazed her shoulders, the roughness of the pads of his fingers stimulating her.
Stepping back, he gave her a long, lingering look from under hooded eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest in a protective gesture. “Don’t,” he commanded. “You’re so beautiful. Don’t rob me of your beauty for even a moment.” Again the concept of the harem spilled into her brain. She could imagine him in ancient times speaking to his captive in the same beguiling tone. Nervously, she dropped her hands to her sides. Breath hissed between his teeth as he began to inch forward.
She knew so little about him, but everything she did know impressed her. He’d been gentlemanly, more than gentlemanly in offering her his home while she recuperated. His vulnerability where his family was concerned melted her heart. If she were truthful, she’d face the fact that the only questionable factor in this equation was her.
She didn’t know anything about her past. She didn’t think she was married, but she could be. She could have children, too. How would she and the sheik deal with those obstacles if they presented themselves? What kind of a woman would it make her? It certainly didn’t paint a very pretty picture.
A concerned look passed across his handsome face, nudging his brows together. “Second thoughts?”
She shook her head, her damp hair sticking to her cheeks and neck. “No, none.”
“Good, I want to make you mine in every sense of the word.”
She was lost.
His hands locked against her spine, his fingers spreading out over her heated flesh. He kissed her passionately, blocking out everything but him. His luscious scent, his corded muscles, and the sensual way he moved his body. His name vibrated through her like the tempo of an ancient war drum. Malik . . . Malik . . . Malik.
The cadence picked up, hitting a crescendo when his mouth bent to capture her nipple between his teeth—the pleasure mind-stealing. No longer thinking, only feeling, she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding the sweet wet heat of his mouth against her. His hand cupped her bare bottom, his fingers digging into her flesh, sending awareness shooting through her.
They sank lower into the twirling bubbles as the warm water steamed around them, the warmth melting her inhibitions and fears. She wanted him with a fierceness that surprised her. This stern man who ruled this country, but also this gentle man who pledged to keep her safe.
With her arms looped around his neck, she drew his head down to hers, running her tongue along the seam of his lips. He opened, sucking her into his mouth. For a moment, they stood poised against the backdrop of the hot water, frozen in the ecstasy of each other. He felt so good. So strong, so intense, she could easily forget all her problems and just move to the summons of his body. She ran her fingers down the hard length of him, watching as he hardened even more from her simple touch.
“Jane,” he coaxed, using the only name she recognized.
She cupped him, her fingers testing the velvet skin before sliding up and down his hard length, watching the dilation of his eyes. He lost his balance, dumping them both into the swirling water. They laughed in unison, the husky octave of his voice sending a thrill down her spine. He helped her to her feet and then backed her up against the tiled rim of the bath. He was all around her—his touch, his scent, the pressure of his arousal against her thigh.
“You please me so much, I want to pleasure you. I want to be inside you.”
Yes, she craved that also, with a need so potent she shook from it. She leaned back against the tile and gripped his hips, drawing him to her.
With his hands braced on the side of the tub, he towered over her. He nudged her legs apart with his thigh and the hot water flowed against her sex. Experienced hands steadied her hips as his fingers dug lightly into the soft flesh of her bottom. Running his tongue up between her breasts, he sucked her nipple into the hot vortex of his mouth and aligned himself with her. She gasped, her head falling back. He reminded her of a statue of a Greek god turned to flesh by some exotic spell. But this was no marble lover, this was a hot-blooded male ready to claim her. Then, without any other preamble, he thrust into her, filling her completely. For a moment, she held her breath as she adjusted to the fullness. He stilled for an instant, letting her get used to his invasion. And then . . . and then . . . he began to move—a prolonged, carnal slide of flesh on flesh. Adapting to his cadence, she arched into him. Fanning her fingers out over his back, she dug her fingers into his tissue, urging him deeper then deeper still.
His lips captured hers in a hard kiss, and he siphoned her shattering breath from her lungs. Her leg encircled his hip and ecstasy exploded within her when the change in position brought him up against her womb. A ripple of euphoria transported her to another plane of sensuality.
She began moving her hips to match his slow, drawn out rhythm, the slick experience driving her into a frenzy. He grunted his approval, his eyes clinging to hers in a vise grip. All elements of the gentle doctor disappeared. At this rate, she’d . . . her head fell back as that ripple became a wave, her lips parting as she struggled to get air into her lungs. Her hands touched him everywhere, gliding over wet, sizzling, oh-so-satisfying flesh, seeking fulfillment that lingered just out of reach. She threw her head back, riding the verge of climax, but he gripped the back of her head and brought it forward. He kissed her tenderly, his lips a heated whisper against hers. Beads of sweat coated their moving bodies. Steam cocooned them in luxurious mist.
“Slow down,” he begged. “I’ve waited a long time for this, and I want it to last.”
She couldn’t. Her body had an agenda of its own and was spiraling toward completion. Her hands slid over his buttocks and pulled him even closer, accentuating the power of his erotic movements. A wanton groan buzzed his lips, the lush sound vibrating through the pads of her fingers. She savored it.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice strong . . . potent.
Her gaze jerked to his. His pupils were dilated, the cords in his neck straining. Green eyes dwelled into blue and there in the depths she glimpsed the life she craved. Panting now, she inched closer to her climax.
Lights gathered behind her eyes as he continued his slow, sanguine pace. Pleasure mounted. A few minutes more and she’d . . . she’d . . .
She jerked at the initial contact of his fingers between her legs, his finger expertly massaging that spot. Tensing, a meteor shower of gratification ripped her body into an earth-shattering orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure consumed her, and she would have sunk beneath the surface had his hold on her been less solid. He kissed her then, his tongue sliding deep inside, dancing in slow strokes with her own.
Again he rasped out, “Habib albi” as he neared his own pinnacle.
She answered, “Your humble captive,” also in Arabic. With one final thrust, he collapsed against her, holding her tightly in his strong arms. She nestled there, smiling and exhausted, still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm. Using her remaining strength, she pulled her head back and kissed him. “That was incredible. You’re incredible.”
He smiled. “Incredible doesn’t begin to do it justice.” He moved away from her, withdrawing from her body, and she immediately felt the loss. He reached for a huge sponge resting at the side of the sunken tub. Turning her around, he leisurely ran the sponge up and down her back, the soft abrading motion relaxing her even further. He pulled her closer after a moment, his ready erection pressing against her bottom. She gasped in pleasure when he reached between her legs and touched her. Then, bending her over slightly, he entered her again without preliminaries.
“I’m sorry—” he half-heartedly apologized, “—but I can’t get enough of you . . . of this. I fear I will never get enough of you.”
The wondrous feelings heightened, quickly bringing them both to a simultaneous climax. When she settled against him, he kissed her neck, trailing kisses down the length of her spine.
“Sweet . . . so sweet,” he muttered against her ear.
She turned to face him and removed the sponge from his fingers, using it to rub circles across his chest.
After they both washed, he stepped from the tub, grabbing a lush towel that he tied around his lower body. Picking up another towel, he held it open for her to step into. When she did, the plush softness wrapped around her, and she moaned at the comforting sensation. Tired beyond belief, she longed to sleep in his arms.
Seeming to understand her unspoken need, he picked her up and carried her to his bed, setting her down on the plush softness of the silk coverlet. He crawled over her body, bracing his arms on either side of her shoulders like a sleek panther claiming his mate. Slowly, expertly, he lowered his mouth to hers.
“The pleasure of this encounter has been . . . mind-blowing. Thank you, Jane.” He followed the words with another long, slow kiss that would have melted glass. When he raised his head, his eyes met hers, bearing an intensity of emotion that shook her to her core. She’d never felt so cherished in her life. Too bad this wasn’t going to last forever. They had this night, maybe only this night, so they’d better make the most of it. He shifted to her side, removed his towel, and pulled her into his nakedness. She drifted off to sleep that way, snuggled against his heat.
The California coast stretched before her. Seagulls called to the open sea in a summons as ancient as time. A girl in a bikini waved to a boy surfing on a three-foot swell.
He waved back and then lost his balance, falling into the rolling sea. Her hand shot to her mouth, and she chewed on her lip with worry. The boy surfaced moments later, shook his head like a sodden wolf, and followed the wave in. She jogged to the edge of the water, waiting for him. He kissed her when he reached her, and they walked hand in hand back to their friend, Jimal, waiting on the beach.
Suddenly the image changed, and the dark phantom of previous nightmares that began after Malik found her in the desert appeared once again, hooded, his face in shadows. Fear covered her like a viscous cloud at the sight of him. He raised his hand and slapped her hard across the face. He tried to hand her something, and she pushed it away, but he slapped her again and again until she dared not refuse him. Malik’s face drifted in front of her, but no, it was a picture of Malik’s face, not the real thing. The phantom screamed at her for not performing the task he’d assigned to her. He slapped her again, harder this time . . . Blood dripping from her nose and lip, she finally did as he asked. Her hand closed around the grip of the Glock.