‘I understand you paid a visit to Adham this morning,’ he said, without prompting.
‘I did.’
‘And insisted on a meeting with me tomorrow morning.’
Wasn’t his expression more than a little smug? Jasmine wondered, with a touch of indignation. ‘Insist?’ she echoed lightly. ‘I thought that’s what we agreed. Appointments in the diary. A rather unconventional way of a couple getting to know each other, it’s true, but that was the only way you could guarantee allotting me any time.’
‘It’s true, that’s what we agreed,’ Zuhal conceded, feasting his gaze on her luscious body and letting it linger there. He’d said it to make her realise that he had neither the time nor the inclination to play games with her. He’d imagined his cool indifference might make her reconsider her foolishness in rejecting him and bring her running into his arms. That without further prompting she would slip along the secret corridor to his bed and seek the pleasure she was guaranteed to find there.
But it hadn’t worked out that way.
His remoteness hadn’t had the desired effect of taming her or bringing her into his bed. There had been no delicious blonde lying waiting for him between the slippery silk of his sheets, eagerly taking him into her arms before spreading those delicious thighs for him. Instead, she had remained as prim as a maiden aunt and ironically this had only increased his hunger for her. His mouth dried. As if he needed any more hunger than was already coursing around his frustrated veins!
‘So you’ve got what you wanted,’ she observed thoughtfully.
A pulse flickered at his temple as she tilted her chin with faint challenge. ‘On the contrary, Jazz,’ he demurred softly. ‘I’m still waiting for the thing I want most.’
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him and suddenly all that old sexual shorthand was back. The flush to her cheeks and the darkening of her eyes. The spring of her nipples against the silk of her robes and quick writhe of the hips, which was almost imperceptible to anyone else but him.
‘Jazz,’ he said, on a throaty note of hunger he couldn’t disguise and he heard her answering intake of breath. Did she move first or did he, and wasn’t that something he needed to know—in order to establish whose victory this was? But suddenly Zuhal didn’t care—not about the method, only the result. He didn’t care which of them had backed down as, with a hungry moan, he closed his arms around her and desire reverberated through him as never before.
Her mouth opened beneath his kiss and her moan echoed his as he explored her with his tongue. Sweet heaven, but she tasted good. So good. His shaking hands were on her robes, tugging at them impatiently with none of his usual restraint, and she was doing the same thing to him—touching his body through the delicate material as if she were discovering it for the very first time. But this was nothing like the first time. Back then she had been a virgin and now she was a sexually experienced woman who knew exactly what she wanted. And so did he.
Her hand pressed boldly against his erection as he deepened the kiss and, urgently, he backed her up against the wall, peeling off her tunic and flinging it aside before dispensing with his own the same way. He ripped off her panties so that they fluttered onto the Persian rug, his fingers quickly finding the moist heat now exposed to him and beginning a deliciously familiar rhythm. The scent of sex filled the air as he strummed against the warm syrupy feel of her and she bucked immediately.
‘Yes,’ she gasped, brokenly, and suddenly she forgot everything. Forgot that she probably shouldn’t be doing this and that Zuhal wasn’t using any protection. All she could think about was it. And him. The word burst out of her lips again. ‘Yes.’
His hands clamped around the cool flesh of her buttocks, he lifted her up so she could lock her thighs around his hips, positioning herself perfectly for that first, deep thrust which made her gasp in the way he remembered so well For a moment he had to still in order to compose himself, terrified he would come straight away—like some over-keen schoolboy whose wildest fantasy had just been realised.
‘Oh,’ he breathed, as control returned to him and he resumed his thrust. Each. Hard. Hungry. Thrust. ‘Isn’t that good, Jazz?’ he demanded unsteadily. ‘Isn’t it the best thing you ever felt?’
Her breath was hot against his neck, her words slurred with pleasure. ‘Is it praise you’re seeking, Zuhal?’
No, it wasn’t praise. He told himself it was orgasm he wanted—all he had ever wanted—but orgasms were easily attained, weren’t they? And then he stopped thinking altogether, focussing instead on how tight she felt as his balls slapped softly against her molten heat. On how his heart was pounding like a regimental drum as he increased his speed. He drove into her while doing all the things he knew she liked best. Grazing her nipples with his teeth—so that she was balancing on the fine edge between pain and pleasure. Stroking his thumb down the enticing valley which cleaved between her buttocks, so that she moaned softly with pleasure.
When she came, he followed almost immediately, kissing away her shuddering moans as his seed spurted long and deep into her body and he felt the inexplicable clench of his heart. Long minutes passed as her head flopped against his shoulder and he could hear her breathing fanning his neck. At last she unfolded her legs and slid them down so that she was standing again, her weight now pressed against the wall instead of into his body. But when he tilted her chin to stare into her eyes, she was having none of it and shook her head.
‘No. Don’t say anything,’ she said.
‘Not even to ask you whether you’d like to do it all over again?’
Her emerald gaze was very clear. ‘And if I did, would you use some protection this time?’
He nodded. ‘Of course I would. I wasn’t thinking. At least, not about that.’
There was a fraction of a pause. ‘Neither was I. But I need to do some thinking now, so will you please go?’ She shook her head as if to pre-empt further argument. ‘I mean it, Zuhal. Just go.’
It took a moment or two for him to realise she meant it and slowly he expelled a long breath. It was the first time he’d ever been ejected from a woman’s bedroom but to Zuhal it suddenly felt more like a reprieve than a punishment. Because wasn’t it a relief to be spared the inevitable analysis of what had just happened, in that tedious way women had of always overthinking things?
They both knew exactly what had just happened.
Sex. Amazing sex—nothing more and nothing less.
His lips curved into a satisfied smile as he allowed himself the brief luxury of a stretch. ‘Sure,’ he said, as he bent to retrieve his discarded robes.
CHAPTER TEN
THE SUN WAS rising in the dawn sky as Zuhal headed towards the stables next morning. He felt the tension leaching from his body—something he attributed to the amazing sex he’d had with Jazz last night, an erotic encounter which was making him grow hard just thinking about it. Because tension was an integral part of his life now, he recognised. It went hand in hand with the many new challenges facing him as monarch. Yet he found himself relishing those challenges in a way he hadn’t been anticipating, because he had never imagined he would be King. To rule had never been his destiny, but already his people were beginning to accept him, even to warm to him, and he was confident that he would be able to do his best by them.
Wasn’t that the silver lining to the dark cloud which had descended on him when Kamal had disappeared? The realisation that he no longer felt the outsider in the country of his birth?
The distant sky was a flamboyant display of flamingo-pink and orange as he swung himself into the saddle and urged his horse forward. Last night had been pivotal in all kinds of ways. He had spent the evening watching Jazz perform admirably as Queen-in-Waiting and her subsequent sexual capitulation boded well for the future. Surely now there was no further barrier stopping him from making her his bride? No reason for her to keep him dangling while she tantalisingly r
efused to give him her answer.
His mouth curved into a speculative smile. He remembered the way he had ripped the robes from her body and the way she had moaned as his fingers found her wet heat. Pride was all very well, but sexual satisfaction was a far more powerful motivator. Wouldn’t that fast and furious encounter encourage her to go ahead with the marriage as quickly as possible, so that they could become husband and wife?
He rode for nearly an hour and was galloping back towards the stables when, suddenly, he caught sight of the gleam of blonde hair in the distance. Jazz. He felt his groin tighten as his gaze drank her in. In the light desert breeze, the folds of her robes had moulded themselves to her delectable body and he was reminded of clasping those luscious curves before bringing them both to orgasm. Was she eager for an early replay? he thought with hungry amusement Was that why she was here? Perhaps she wanted him to tumble her onto the stable floor and take her amid all the bales of hay, rutting into her like a stallion?
‘So this time you don’t mind being seen?’ he questioned as he slowed his horse and drew up beside her.
She blinked up at him in alarm. ‘Seen?’
He jumped down onto the dusty ground. ‘Didn’t I once observe you watching me from afar? Standing in a corner of the stables and watching while I took off my clothes?’ Her answering colour told him that her shadowed presence hadn’t been a figment of his overheated imagination and, although she was now glaring at him, he smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I rather liked you in the role of voyeur.’
‘I’m not worried!’ she flared back at him, her cheeks still flushed and pink.
‘So why are you here?’ he mused softly. ‘As far as I’m aware, we aren’t supposed to be meeting for another hour and I need to shower first. Unless what happened last night means you’re thinking you might like to join me? I’m quite happy for you to soap me off, my beauty. It’s far too long since we had a shower together.’
Jasmine wished he would stop making sexual allusions every time he opened his mouth because they were drawing her attention to his body, which she’d been trying very hard to forget. But how could she forget when the memory had kept her awake most of the night, as she’d recalled the way he had driven into her. Her cheeks grew hotter as she remembered her eagerness to have sex with him—backed up against one of the palace walls, of all places, with her legs wrapped tightly around his bare back as he had taken her on a quick trip to paradise. What had happened to her determination to keep things on an impartial footing until she had discovered whether she wanted to marry him? It had vanished the moment he had taken her in his arms and kissed her.
‘I don’t want to talk about that,’ she said. ‘Last night shouldn’t have happened.’
His eyes glittered. ‘Are you quite sure?’
‘Quite sure. I’m supposed to be getting to know you,’ she continued. ‘In a rather more formal way than that.’
‘As you wish. I’ve never had to beg a woman for sex before, Jazz—and I’m certainly not going to start now.’
‘It was usually the other way round, was it?’ she queried mischievously.
He gave a brief smile as they began to walk towards the stables, and Jasmine suddenly became aware of a sense of wistfulness as she breathed in a long-forgotten fragrance. ‘I love that smell,’ she said suddenly.
He turned to look at her. ‘What smell?’
‘You know. Horses. Leather. Dust. Sweat. The whole thing. Stables, I guess.’ She gave a sigh, which seemed to bubble up out of nowhere. ‘You’re very lucky to be able to ride out in the desert with no fences or houses or roads to get in the way. You must get a real sense of freedom out here—the kind you don’t really get back in England.’
He narrowed his eyes, as one of the grooms led his horse away. ‘You sound as if you know what you’re talking about.’
‘You seem surprised.’
‘Maybe I am. I thought you were the quintessential city girl. Are you telling me you can ride, Jazz?’
‘Yes, I can ride,’ she said quietly. ‘I used to love all things equestrian until the age of ten. Or did you think I’d always been poor and that riding is a rich person’s sport?’
He lifted his hand by a fraction, but the quirk of his lips indicated a signal of acknowledgement rather than command.
‘So what happened when you were ten?’ he continued curiously as they began to walk back towards the palace.
Jasmine tried to avert her gaze from the thrust of his thighs against his jodhpurs, but it wasn’t easy—particularly when she thought of her fingers roving over their hair-roughened power last night and the memory of what lay at their apex. She cleared her throat. ‘It was a continuation of the fallen-ice-cream episode,’ she said.
‘The fallen ice cream?’ he repeated blankly.
‘You remember. I told you about it in London. When my father left home.’ She gave an impatient shake of her shoulders. ‘Weren’t you listening?’
‘Yes, of course I was listening. Forgive me. I am feeling a little distracted. You can’t blame me for that, in view of what happened between us last night.’ With what looked like an effort, he dragged his gaze from her torso to her face. ‘So what happened—after your father left home?’
He had stopped walking and was looking at her, waiting for her answer.
‘We had to sell the house and the car,’ she explained. ‘And my pony was the first thing to go, obviously.’
‘Why?’
Jasmine felt a flicker of irritation at his incomprehension. Did he really lack the imagination to work it out for himself, or was he just incapable of putting himself into the shoes of a normal person? She stared down at her feet, aware of a fine layer of dust from the yard which was now covering her toes and wishing she’d worn something more substantial than beaded flip-flops.
She lifted her gaze to his. ‘Because as well as making his much younger secretary pregnant and causing a scandal at work, my father had also been living beyond his means—and once it was discovered, everything started to tumble down. The banks needed to be paid and there was no money to pay them. It meant my mum was left with very little. In fact, with almost nothing. We had to start renting a tiny apartment.’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘And Mum had to go back out to work—but the only work she could get was cleaning. Overnight she went from being a middle-class wife to what she called a “skivvy” and she never got over it, really. She got ill soon after that. Perhaps the two things were related.’
Zuhal met the sombre expression clouding her green-gold eyes. It must have been tough, he acknowledged, as they resumed their step and the soaring blue cupolas of the palace swam into view. Maybe everyone’s childhood was tough, he concluded grimly as several servants spotted him and lowered their gazes in natural deference. Or maybe it was family life itself which created all the problems. He thought about his own parents. About the so-called ‘love’ which had corrupted the atmosphere with so much poison. His mouth twisted. Who needed it? Surely mutual tolerance and good sex were a better long-term bet than all the chaos wreaked by love?
He observed the glint of sunlight on Jazz’s pale hair and imagined her as a horse-mad young girl. He could picture her in a smart jacket, her hair in a net and a crop in her hand. A bright rosette pinned to her pony as she leaned forward to pat the forelock. It must have hurt to have lost all that, he realised with a sudden flash of insight, which wasn’t usually his thing. Because although he didn’t have quite the same affinity with horses as his brother did—had done—he corrected painfully, he still valued his daily ride above most things.
‘Would you like to ride out with me tomorrow morning?’ he said as she began to move away from him.
She turned back and he could see the uncertainty on her face. ‘I haven’t been on a horse for years,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if I can still do it.’
‘There’s only one way to find out.’
&nb
sp; ‘I don’t know, Zuhal.’
‘Is that a yes?’ he prompted softly, and suddenly it mattered. It mattered a lot.
There was a pause and then she nodded, her blonde ponytail shimmering like the tail of a horse in the early-morning haze as her green eyes met his. ‘It’s a yes. And thank you. But there’s no way I’ll be able to keep up with you. Give me the most gentle horse in your stable and I’ll be happy just trotting around the yard.’
‘You will do no such thing,’ he vowed. ‘You can have my undivided teaching skills, if you like.’ He felt the flicker of a pulse at his temple and the more insistent one which was throbbing deep in his groin. ‘And don’t they say it all comes rushing back, the moment you’re back in the saddle?’
‘I guess they do,’ she said and the smile she gave him lingered long after he had watched her retreating into the palace.
He spent longer in the shower than usual—mainly because his newly ignited sexual hunger refused to be doused, even by the prolonged jets of icy water over his heated skin. He found himself bemused and intrigued by her determination to ignore what had happened last night. Unless her prudishness was all for show and she was planning to seduce him during their ten o’clock appointment in the Damask Room. Yes, that could work. That could work very well. He felt the flicker of a pulse at his temple and ordered Adham to ensure that he was not disturbed for the duration of the meeting, telling him it was possible it might run over.
But his anticipation was dampened the moment Jazz was shown into the room and he saw a new light of purpose glinting from her green-gold eyes. She was wearing a demure cream gown which covered her from head to ankle and his heart sank. Sinking down gracefully into one of the soft chairs, she pressed her knees together and he couldn’t help contrasting her demure image with the wildcat lover who had greedily met his urgent thrusts last night.
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