by Jane Porter
In bed, he drew her close to him, his arm loose around her waist, his hand resting on her hip.
For a moment she couldn’t breathe. For a moment she waited, wondering if panic would hit. If she’d become nervous or uncomfortable.
If she’d dislike being held by him, held close to him.
None of those things happened.
He felt good. He felt warm. She felt safe.
* * *
Jemma woke up alone.
She told herself she didn’t mind. Told herself she was glad. She needed space. She liked her independence. But it’d felt good having Mikael near her last night. She’d slept deeply for a change and she woke rested, and anxious to see him.
But Mikael didn’t put in an appearance that morning. Instead there was a purple bikini and delicate violet silk cover-up waiting for her, along with a note telling her that tonight she’d sleep in the Amethyst Chamber.
Jemma changed into the pretty purple bikini and slipped the delicate silk cover up over her head, letting the light fabric settle against her tummy and thighs.
Purple was a good color for her. It flattered her skin. She wondered if Mikael would have a gift made from amethyst gems for her tonight. A necklace, a ring, or possibly earrings. She didn’t want it, or need it, but it gave her something to think about, rather than her emotions.
She missed Mikael.
She didn’t want to be alone.
But she had breakfast outside and then paced the courtyard, swimming when she grew too hot.
Lunch came and went, with her again eating by herself inside one of the air conditioned pavilions, needing the shade.
It was a long day waiting. She grew restless and angry. She peeled off the filmy violet cover up and swam again, and then stretched facedown on a lounge chair, the high desert temperature drying her purple suit almost instantly.
She buried her face in the crook of her arm, telling herself to relax, and calm down. She was getting herself worked up over nothing. Mikael would join her when he could. He’d be there as soon as he could manage it. There was no reason to feel so desperate, or lonely...
And then he was there.
Just like that.
His shadow stretched over her lounge chair, blocking the sun, and she turned over onto her back and looked up at him.
He gazed down at her with dark, smoky eyes. He was dressed in his robes. She suspected he’d had business earlier. But she didn’t ask and he didn’t tell her.
She raised a hand to shield her eyes and she let her gaze wander over him, up over his chest, to his neck, his hard jaw, the chiseled cheek and then to his eyes. He had ridiculously beautiful eyes. She’d kill for his lashes. It would save her a fortune in eyeliner and mascara.
“You smile.” Mikael’s deep husky voice vibrated between them, coloring the air, filling the space around them.
Heat danced through her, little sparklers lighting nerve endings beneath her skin. She flexed her feet, feeling her toes curl.
Amazing how little it took for him to turn her on.
Just a long glance from his dark eyes.
A word from his lips.
A certain pitch in his voice.
That’s all it took and everything within her melted, wanting. Wanting him and what he did to her, and what he could make her feel.
Jemma drew a slow breath, and then exhaled just as slowly, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. “You have the longest, darkest eyelashes,” she said, hating the slightly breathless note in her voice, knowing he’d notice. He always did. “I should steal them. You don’t need them. I’m the model, not you.”
The edge of his mouth lifted. He sat down on the edge of her lounge chair, his hand settling on her knees and then sliding up a couple inches on her thigh. “No Saidian queen has ever held a job.”
“Are you saying I can’t work if I am your queen?”
“You are my queen, and I haven’t made any decisions with regard to your career. Although truthfully, it would be very unusual in Saidia, and would probably create a great deal of controversy, if you did continue working.”
“So we know what that means.”
He tapped the tip of her nose. “We don’t know what that means, Miss Smarty Pants.” He moved his hand to her thigh, his palm warm against her skin. “Would you miss modeling?”
“I would miss working.”
“But not modeling specifically?”
She shrugged, and struggled to focus, which wasn’t easy with the warmth of his hand stealing into her thigh. “I enjoyed my job until recently...when everyone dropped me.”
“Could you be happy doing other things?”
He’d begun to draw invisible circles on her thigh, setting the nerve endings on fire.
“Such as?” she asked, her voice growing husky.
“Making public appearances. Talking to girls and advocating literacy. Making love to me. Having babies.”
Every word he spoke was accompanied by another swoop of his finger across her bare skin, flaming the nerve endings all the while moving closer to her tiny purple bikini bottoms.
She was tempted to press her knees together to stop his fingers and yet she loved his touch, wanted more, wanted him to strip the bottoms off of her and part her thighs and settle between them again, and put his mouth on her, using his tongue and fingers to trace the shape of her soft folds and the tight sensitive clit—
“You’re distracted,” Mikael said, leaning in to kiss her, even as his palm slid over her thigh to her hip.
She shivered at the caress and the brush of his lips over hers. He pushed her heavy damp hair from her face and kissed her again, more deeply.
She sighed, as he lifted his head. She wanted more, not less. “Maybe a little,” she agreed. “Where have you been?”
“I had some business to attend to.”
“Out here?” she asked glancing around. “In the middle of the desert?”
“There is technology.” He dipped his head, kissed her again, another tingling, soul-stirring kiss that made shivers race through her.
She reached up to touch his face. “When can I use your technology?”
“When the honeymoon is over.”
“Is this tradition, or your rule?”
“Both. I want you to myself, and tradition says I have eight days to do just that...keep you hidden from the world during my attempt to win your heart.”
“Are you trying to win my heart?” she asked, as his hand stroked up her waist to brush the curve of her breast. “Or win my body?”
“I think I’ve already done that.”
“You sound so sure of yourself,” she said, gasping as his hand slipped beneath the fabric of her bikini top to cup her breast.
“I am.” His head dropped and he kissed her again, even as he kneaded her breast and teased her sensitive nipple.
Desire surged through her, a hot, insatiable current that scalded her skin and made her melt on the inside. She leaned into his hand, her body aching, straining for more contact.
“You’re starting it again,” she whispered against his mouth. “You’re wreaking havoc on my defenses.”
His dark gaze held hers, the irises dark, mysterious. “You don’t need defenses against me.”
“Oh, I absolutely do. If I lose control, all bets are off.”
“If you lose control, you’re still safe with me.” He kissed her again, and then caressed her lower lip, and the hollow beneath. “You will always be safe with me.”
“I don’t know, because this feels pretty dangerous.”
He smiled a wicked smile which made her breath catch and her pulse race, making her heart pound and hum with the rest of her body.
His dark gaze settled on her mouth, and the quiver of h
er lower lip. “Good. Because this is desire.”
The quiver of her lip intensified, along with the reckless rhythm of her heart. Blood drummed through her veins, warming her, making her skin hot and sensitive.
“And desire is important,” he added, drawing his fingertip from her lower lip, down the middle of her chin, and lower still, down her neck to the base of her throat, and then on to her breastbone. It was such a light stroke, but slow, and long, and he lit every nerve ending he touched. “Desire makes us feel alive.”
“It’s so sexual.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curving, and yet it wasn’t a smile. It looked like hunger. “Is that a problem?”
She shivered, and would have looked away if he hadn’t caught her chin, and forced her gaze to meet his. Her mouth dried. She licked her lips, blood roaring in her ears. “Sex without emotion is empty,” she said.
“Is it? Even when you have this intense chemistry?” he asked, stroking the curve of her breasts, avoiding the taut, straining nipple. “How can this be empty?”
Her thoughts slowed, became tangled, her senses taking over, smothering reason. Was this empty? Was this connection bad?
Mikael’s fingertip drew slow, lazy circles down the slope of her breast to the valley between, and then down across her flat belly to gently press against her through the material of her bikini bottoms.
She sighed as her head lit up with color and lights and pleasure.
“We enjoy each other,” he added, tracing her softness, his knuckle brushing against her where she was so very sensitive. “We’ve been affectionate. We both feel a strong physical connection. What is missing?”
Love.
She wanted more than sex, more than pleasure. She wanted love. But it was so hard to say when he was touching her so intimately, making her head spin, and her senses pop and explode.
It was hard to focus, even harder for her to speak. “A relationship can’t just be about sex,” she said. “And I want more than pleasure.”
“You don’t think pleasure can lead to more?” His fingers slipped beneath the material to caress her intimately. She was hot and slick and he teased her, making her gasp and squeeze her thighs together to ignore what was happening inside of her.
“Can’t pleasure generate love?” he persisted, before leaning over her and kissing one taut nipple through her top.
“I don’t...think...so,” she said, sucking in a breath as he sucked her, drawing on her hard enough to create sharp pinches of sensation, the pleasure so intense it was almost like pain.
As he worked her breast he pressed his fingers into her, stroking her deep and rhythmically, matching the draw on her nipple.
Fire streaked from her breast to her womb. She felt her inner muscles clench him, her body already so hot and wet she knew she wouldn’t last, knew she couldn’t hold back. He had magic in his hands, and he knew just how to touch her, just how to seduce her. He could make her his slave with just a kiss and a touch...
“But you don’t know for sure,” he said, stroking deep, creating a maddening friction. His dark eyes sparked. “Pleasure happens in the mind. Love happens there, too.” He leaned close, his lips grazing hers. “Why can’t one lead to the other?”
She leaned in to the kiss, kissing him with desperation and hunger, as the tease of desire became a fierce consuming need. She hummed with tension. It coiled inside of her, throbbing, insisting, making her feel wild for release. “I need you,” she choked. “Need you to make love to me.”
“I am,” he said, as his fingers pressed deep.
She bucked against his hand, frantic, and frustrated. “Not like this. I want you, your body, your skin, in bed, on me.” She’d go mad if she didn’t have him soon. “Let’s go inside,” she whispered, licking her lip, her mouth dry, heart hammering. “Now.”
“And what shall we do there?” he asked.
She gave her head a shake, dizzy, dazed. “Everything.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “This is only day three, laeela. We’re to draw the pleasure out...make you wait.”
“I waited all day for you!” she protested.
“Pleasure can’t be rushed.”
“Oh, I think it can. You’ve already made me half mad.” She sat up, and pulled him forward to kiss him deeply, drawing his breath into her, opening her mouth to him, welcoming the tip of his tongue, sucking on the tip even as he thrust his fingers into her. She was so close to shattering, so close that she was afraid he’d stop, and walk away, and leave her aching. “I need you,” she whispered against his mouth, frantic for him, frantic for release.
“You have me,” he answered, his hands where she needed them, his mouth on hers, his tongue answering hers.
Her fingers curled into his crisp hair. Her nails pressed against his scalp. She leaned into him, pressing her breasts to his chest, letting her hips move, grinding against his hand. She was wanton but he felt good and tasted good and right now, she felt alive, and hungry for life, which was so different from how she’d felt this past year.
To go from dead to life...
To feel beautiful, and powerful...
He brought her to a climax, and she cried out as she shattered against him. She tipped her head against his, panting in release.
She should be horrified. Instead she felt strong. Hopeful. Jemma opened her eyes, looked into his. “What have you done to me?” she whispered.
“I’m just making sure you’re satisfied,” he said, kissing her.
“I’m satisfied,” she said, still breathless. “But what about you?”
“I’m good.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “You are.” And he did feel good. He felt solid and real and permanent in the best sort of way. “Can we now go to the bedroom?”
He kissed her again, and smoothed her hair back from her face. “I wish I could. Unfortunately, I have another conference call and this one is going to take a while. The staff knows to serve you dinner when you’re hungry. Don’t wait for me.”
“Not again!”
“I know it’s frustrating but it’s important. Trust me.” His dark eyes held hers, searching hers. “Do you believe me?”
She sighed, and nodded, because she did believe him. She couldn’t imagine him lying to her. Not now. Not ever. “Yes.”
“Just know that I will come to you tonight in the Amethyst Chamber, as soon as I can.”
“I don’t want to go there without you.”
“But I will be there, laeela. I promise. Soon.”
* * *
She ate dinner alone in the Amethyst Chamber, the walls painted a deep plum, and then stenciled in gold. The low wooden bed was framed with long embroidered silk curtains in shades of purple and plum, with violet hued pillows and a silk coverlet decorating the bed.
She didn’t belong here, she thought, finishing her dinner, and returning the dishes to the tray by the door.
She didn’t belong in Saidia and she didn’t belong in Mikael’s life. When she was with him, he distracted her from reality, making her forget what was true and important.
Like her work, and her family.
Like getting back to London and to those who did love her.
It was good to be away from him this evening. It was good to have time to herself, to find herself, and most of all, to remember how she’d come to be here, at the Bridal Palace, in the first place.
She’d been forced here. She’d been forced into this marriage. And she’d been forced to surrender to Sheikh Karim.
She had to remember that. Had to remember the facts, and reality, next time Mikael showed up, and touched her, and kissed her and made her want nothing but him.
She fell asleep, with the light on, determined to be strong when he arrived. She would resist him this time
. She wouldn’t melt for him. She wouldn’t ache or need or shatter in his hands. Not anymore. Never again.
As her eyes closed she counted the days and nights she’d been here. Tonight was the third night. That meant there were just five more and then she’d be free.
* * *
Jemma woke up, blinked. It was morning. She looked around, pushing her long hair back from her face, and tugging the strap of her filmy purple nightgown back up onto her shoulder.
She was alone.
Good.
Good, she silently insisted. She’d gone to bed alone so it shouldn’t surprise her that she was the only person in the bed, but she’d dreamed about Mikael all night, dreamed of Mikael kissing her, making love to her, and it’d felt so real. She woke up feeling as if he had been there, with her.
But he wasn’t. It was a figment of her imagination. A dream.
She stretched her arm out across the empty bed, suddenly terribly homesick.
Day four, she told herself. Just four more days, and four more nights, and she’d be home.
The thought should have pleased her, reassured her, instead her heart fell, and her eyes burned. She missed Mikael. She shouldn’t miss him. She should hate him.
The wooden door to the en suite bath creaked. Jemma sat up, startled.
Mikael appeared in the doorway, wearing nothing but loose cotton pajama pants that hung deliciously low on his hip bones. He raked a hand through his dark hair, making muscles ripple in his arms and chest.
She stared at his lean flat abdomen, each muscle hard and distinct.
“You’re awake,” he said, walking toward her and giving her the most devastatingly wicked smile.
Her heart lurched. “Where did you come from?”
“The bathroom.”
Her heart did another funny little tumble. Just looking at him made her feel a pang. She didn’t understand why he did that to her. She frowned. “How?”
“I walked.”
She made a face, rolling her eyes. “Yes, but when?”
“Just a few minutes ago.”
Her mouth dried. Her pulse was doing crazy, wild things. “But you weren’t here. I fell asleep waiting for you.”
