by Leslie North
He almost laughed. Instead, he pulled out his mobile, called for his car and some supplies for the day, then stood and held out his hand to Ginni. "I shall show you one of the true treasures of Zahkim."
Standing, she touched a finger to the necklace. "Feelin' a touch overdressed here."
With a snap of his fingers, he called for the servants. They came with the box for the necklace—a trifle really, too modern to appeal to Arif's bride and too heavy to suit Tarek's wife. Nasim took his time unfastening the clasp, brushing his fingers over Ginni's neck with touches that left goosebumps on her skin. He was pleased to see her reaction, to watch her tongue slip out to touch her lower lip, to see the pulse jump in her neck. He started to wonder why no man in America had taken her for a bride. Perhaps having to face Aldrich Leeland was too much for most men. And what would Aldrich think when he learned his daughter had married without so much as a word to her family? Well, that was Ginni's problem, wasn't it? Still, he could help her avoid some of the awkwardness of talking to her family. He could at least give her a respite.
Taking her hand, he led her to the front doors and out to his car.
She glanced at the battered International Harvester Travelall, its paint faded to a dull green, her dark brown eyes going wide. "This is yours? Gotta say I know good ol' boys back home that have fancier wheels."
"This is Jessie—Jessie, meet Ginni. Jessie is my reliable companion, and I promise you she is the safest ride out to where we are going."
Ginni gave him a sideways glance, but she patted the hood. "Long as you've got air conditioning, sweetheart, we'll get along fine."
The International had belonged to his father, and Nasim had never had the heart to sell it. Besides, it honestly was one of the best ways to get across the desert. Four-wheel drive, an indestructible engine, a large interior that allowed him to carry a tent and survival gear as well as several passengers and a picnic, it lacked only the greater comfort of plush seats. Jessie's air conditioning was temperamental but behaved today, blasting out cold air. Nasim drove from the palace grounds and out the gates, then took off cross-country.
Ginni grabbed for the shoulder strap of her seat belt as they bounced over what was little more than a camel track. She laughed. "Well, gotta say, you know how to show a gal a good time. Hang on for the ride." She gave a shout and another laugh.
Nasim found himself grinning as well. Ginni's enthusiasm for adventure seemed infectious.
He drove, and she pelted him with a dozen questions about Zahkim. What else did they have beside oil—any crops, fresh water supplies, industry? She knew little about Tarek's efforts to modernize the country, but she talked about regional stability as if she had done some reading before she'd taken Jasmine's place at the wedding.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a barren strip of land that divided Zahkim from its neighboring country, Dijobuli. Nasim shut off the engine, and Ginni stared at the expanse of rocky desert in front of them. She glanced at Nasim.
"Uh, by any chance are you plannin' to leave me here?" He shook his head. Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed scarves for each of them and handed one to Ginni.
"To keep the sun from your head. Come on. It is almost time." Climbing out of the International, he came around to Ginni's side. She had the door open, but he took her hand to help her out of the high vehicle. Her thin shoes were not made for the desert, so he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the rocky overhang that overlooked the land.
Once he set her on her feet, she caught a breath. "Wow—that's quite a view."
He swept out an arm. "The Ash Lands. It is said to be holy ground."
They had driven up a road to the top of a cliff that overlooked twenty miles of desert.
She frowned. "Ash is about right. Gray and—I'm sorry to say—not that appealing. Maybe it's ’cause I'm used to the green back home. This is a treasure of Zahkim? Seriously? I was expecting something a little more…treasure-ish."
"You Americans—no patience."
"And you have tons?" She put a hand on her hip. "With the moves you've been putting on me, I'd say not."
He grinned and grabbed her hand. "Come. We must go higher." They hiked another twenty yards up the rocky outcrop, following a thin, winding goat path. At the top, the wind—dry and touched with sand—brushed across his face. It tugged on his headscarf, and he noticed Ginni struggling to keep hers in place. Stepping behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders, tucked her scarf more firmly around her neck, and turned her to face the east, toward the border with Dijobuli. "There…look."
The sun shifted a few degrees from overhead to starting its descent into the west. As it did, it slanted over the Ash Lands and turned the vast sweep of sands and rock below them into waves of silver edged with gold. The Ash Lands changed from gray to a shimmer of colors.
He explained. "The minerals in the soil react to light. You can see this only for a few minutes on any summer day, and then…" As the sun kept on with its slow arc, heading toward eventual sunset, the colors vanished. Again, the Ash Lands looked gray and forbidding and empty, although he knew that to be an illusion as well, for the desert held a vast amount of life.
Turning, she put a hand on his chest. "That was…okay, way better than expected."
"And this?" he asked. He wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her lips to his. She came willingly and gave in sweetly to his kiss. He licked inside her mouth, reached up and brushed a thumb over her breast. The nipple peaked at once, and he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.
She gave a low hum but pulled back and stared up at him, her breathing uneven. "I'm not getting sand anywhere it doesn't belong." Her voice sounded husky with need.
He gave a low laugh. "A practical woman." Taking her hand, he led her back to the International. They drove several twisting miles, over a hillside and down to a tiny oasis that only a few knew about.
With a grin, she said, "Back home we'd call this a swimmin' hole."
Nasim waved at the small oval of blue-green water. "Feel free. But I didn't bring swimsuits."
She hopped from the International. "I'd take you up on the skinny-dipping if I wasn't worried I'd burn in all the wrong spots. Shade, however, is more than welcome. You fry eggs on these rocks at noonday?"
Pulling a basket, cooler, and blanket from the back of the International, he shook his head. "I've something far better." He spread the blanket in the shade of two crossed date palms, opened the cooler and pulled out two Bass ales. He popped the top on one and handed it to Ginni. Water condensed on the brown bottle.
She took a long drink and let out a sigh. "Nothin' beats beer on a hot day. Thought folks in Zahkim didn't go in much for alcohol."
He opened his ale, propped the basket near his feet and sat next to her. "Habits acquired at university. My cousins and I attended Oxford. I took to it far better than they did, however, and there are times I miss a cool English summer. Now, what is your pleasure—meat pies, cheese and fruit, or cold chicken salad?"
With a grin, she scooted forward to peer into the basket. "What, nothing exotic?"
"I asked for my favorites—I honestly do miss England."
She dug into the basket and pulled out a meat pie wrapped in paper. "Don't I know how that goes. At college, I'd have killed for a good gumbo like my mama can make. I was so homesick I almost quit."
Leaning back on one elbow, he sipped his ale and watched her eat. "You seem a smart woman. Educated. Why did you let Jasmine talk you into taking her place? You must have known it might not end well."
She dusted the crumbs of the pastry from her fingers. "Gotta take chances if I'm going to prove myself. Daddy always said a faint heart means not much of a checking account." She grinned. "Besides, it was just a touch of fun and adventure."
He tipped his head to one side. "Prove yourself? I don't understand. You're a beautiful woman. What must you prove?"
Ginni rolled her eyes. "There speaks a guy. Now you're sounding
too much like my daddy. 'Run along and play with your dolls, honey.' Or my mama, always saying I don't need to be smart, ’cause I'm pretty. I'll have you know I graduated with honors, took a degree in economics with a minor in business, and I've been working my butt off trying to show I'm ready to take over my daddy's company." She huffed out a breath. "Trouble is, I spent my first two years in college blowing off steam, almost flunked out for a couple of pranks due to me seeing that pirate movie—the one with the sexy guy wearing eyeliner—and talking my girlfriends into borrowing a yacht from a stuffy East Coast marina. Daddy still remembers that—and my last shopping bill in Paris—more than anything else."
Sitting up, Nasim smiled. "I know about that. I'm considered the family black sheep as well—the one who acts too much like I still live in England."
She lifted her bottle and clinked it against his. "Here's to us baa-lambs then. But you seem the responsible type to me." She waved her bottle at the oasis and picnic. "Got everything lined up and ticked off on your lists. Your wedding was sure as anything planned."
"Until you came along."
She grinned. "Yeah—guess I was a shocker."
"There is nothing wrong with plans. Even getting into trouble takes planning if you also wish to get out again. The story of Zahkim and the Ash Lands is a good example. Hundreds of years ago, my people were crossing the desert after a great famine. They wandered until, so it is said, heaven reached down and marked their new home with stars and a road to our lands."
"Those colors we saw."
"Exactly. However, I am of the opinion that if they had planned better, there would have been far less wandering and a much better homeland with coastal access."
Ginni burst out with a laugh. She punched his arm with her free hand. "If they'd planned more, they'd've missed seeing that rainbow in the sand. Sometimes life is more about enjoyin' the surprises."
Frowning, Nasim shook his head and dug into the basket for the chicken salad. "I can see why your father might be cautious about turning over his company to you, if that is your attitude to life—and work. The goal of a business is to minimize surprises. Here, try this." He pulled out a fork, dug into the chicken salad, and offered her a taste.
She eyed the salad but took the bite. Around a mouthful, she got out, "Lordy, that's about the best I've ever had. I've gotta get that recipe."
He stared at her. "You cook?"
She pulled a face at him, put down her beer and grabbed the bowl with the chicken salad. "Cher, New Orleans, remember? Not knowin' how to cook is close to bein' a sin. I suppose some folks may come out of Louisiana without learnin' much, but food's always a serious business for us." She dug into the chicken salad. Two bites later, she looked up to find Nasim watching her. "What? I got something on my mouth." She swept her thumb over the corner of her mouth.
Leaning forward, Nasim swiped the other side of her mouth, and then leaned in and wiped his tongue across that spot. "Hmmm…it tastes better on you."
She held up the spoon between them, waving him off. "You keep teasin'. But I'm gonna warn you—I don't mind flirtin', but I'm holding off on more than that until I'm married."
He smiled, his eyes warmed with a spark, and warning bells went off in the back of her head. She didn't have a chance against that megawatt charm of his. She could feel her resolve melting, or going up in flames, more like. He picked up her hand, kissed her palm and then sucked one finger into his mouth. Heat exploded inside her, slipped down from her stomach to far deeper and started an instant ache between her legs. Her nipples tingled as if he had his mouth on them, not just on her finger.
She tugged her hand away before he could do more.
Still smiling, Nasim angled his body closer until he seemed to fill up the entire world, his eyes darkening as his pupils blew wide and dark. "I'm glad you've waited, Ginni. But you are married now—and as we say in Zahkim, Khalaas. Akhdik ya Heidi!"
Heart thudding, she wet her lips. She was having trouble breathing. She tried for a stern tone and knew she must sound shaky instead. "And what does that mean?"
"It's about the same as saying, 'Enough already—I’m taking you girl!'"
Chapter Seven
Nasim took the bowl and spoon from Ginni's trembling hands. He tossed them aside, took the half empty bottles of ale and threw them over his shoulder. He would deal with all that later. Right now, he had to have Ginni in his arms. He wanted her more than anything he had ever wanted. He wanted that passion inside her to erupt—he wanted to see her gaze go distant from pleasure and to have all that fire pressed up as close to him as possible.
Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her down to the sand, rolled her so she lay on the blanket he had spread out for the picnic. He would dine on her. She parted her lips with what would no doubt be a protest. He stopped her words with a kiss, wrapped his tongue around hers, took her lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it. She put a hand on his shoulder, but instead of pushing him away, she pulled him closer. Her mouth opened for him, and she let out a small moan that inflamed him.
Cock hard and pressing into her hip, he rubbed against her. She moaned again, and he wrapped a hand over her breast, squeezed, and then caught the nub of her hardened nipple. He rolled it between his thumb and fingers, pinched lightly, and then started to trace a circle. With another moan, she wiggled, rubbing herself against his erection.
It was his turn to moan, and he slipped a hand under her tunic and then down her wide-legged pants, blessing the world for inventing something so simple as elastic. Wet warmth wrapped around his fingers. He pushed into her, found the spot that left her gasping. He thought about stripping her bare, taking her here and now, but if she was a virgin still, he didn't want this to be fast or painful.
But he wanted her in his power.
Sitting up, he pulled her upright and lifted the tunic from her arms and shoulders. She gave a shiver, but that could not be due to a chill—the sun had not set, and sweat sheened her skin. He licked a wide stripe along her shoulder, tasted the salt and something that had to be unique to her. He slid between her legs, and stripped off her trousers and underwear with one move. She gasped. He did not give her time to say anything more.
He put his mouth on those lush lower lips of hers, already swollen and dark. With one hand, he spread her legs, the other spread the lips surrounding her secret flower, and he licked into her, tasting her, wanting more of the moisture leaking from her. She moaned, and he dove in again, searching for what she liked.
Nips…ah, too much. Her hips bucked, and she put a hand on his shoulder. A soft lapping at her clit? She sighed and wiggled her hips—a favorite. Did she like a finger inside? When he pushed his thumb into her, she wiggled again, but she seemed so tight—he could just fit the thickness of his thumb, and he dared not do more.
But the small licks she adored. He kept at them, wanting to drive her over the edge. Her skin heated. She shivered again, gave a small moan, and then her juices flowed in small spurts. He lapped them up, kept at it until she let out a long breath and put a hand on him again.
Wiping his face, he rose up to stretch out beside her. She looked sinful, clad in nothing but her bra, her body gleaming with sweat, her chest rising and falling with short, rapid breaths, her eyes closed, and her dark lashes a sweep of black against her cheek.
He put a hand on her quivering stomach. "I want to consummate this marriage, Ginni. Tell me you want this, too."
With a knowing smile, she opened her eyes and put one hand on his chest. She pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs.
"Just ’cause I'm saving up for a honeymoon night doesn’t mean I don't know a few things. And I'm a fast learner." Her drawl had deepened. Nasim found himself catching his breath as she undid his belt and zipper and put her hand on him.
She wrapped her fingers around his cock, and he fell back, a groan torn from him. It had been too long since he'd had a woman. Once he'd started into marriage negotiations with Sheikh Ahmad, he'd sworn off oth
er women. He'd wanted to be faithful to his bride, even if the marriage was arranged.
Now, Ginni was driving him mad.
She stroked again, tugged down his trousers and his pants, and took him into her mouth. He groaned again and put a hand on her head—her curls wrapped around his fingers as if clutching at him. She pulled her mouth off him, licked down his shaft, and stroked her fingers over his balls.
"You will kill me," he muttered.
She grinned and again took him into her mouth.
She couldn't take him deep, but the licks of her tongue, the small nips of her teeth, the sucking when she did take him as far as she could, had him arching his back. The orgasm took him fast and hard, spiking through him like an electrical charge, leaving him dizzy and clutching at her as if she were the only thing holding him to the earth.
Breathless, he clung to her. She wiggled up and draped herself over him; at some point she had rid herself of her bra, for her breasts pressed against him, soft mounds of delight. He yanked off his tie.
"I must admit I did fool around a little in college but never went all the way. And you are wearing far too much," she said, unbuttoning his shirt, popping a button with each word. She bared his skin for whispers of kisses, and then settled next to him with a sigh. "I could get used to this, too. Except I am getting sand where it don't belong."
He trailed a finger up and down her spine. "I still want to do more with you, Ginni. And you are my wife."
She gave a low hum. "We'll talk about that later. Right now, I want to hear more about you." Propping herself up on one elbow, she brushed the hair on his chest. "You said you and your mama don't get along. I'd like to know why." He pushed out a long breath, and she told him, "Don't be sayin' it's complicated."
Pulling her close, so she nestled against him, he stroked a hand down her back. Oddly, it didn't seem strange to speak to her of his past. They had shared more than their bodies just now.
"My father was a consummate diplomat—the consummate diplomat. My cousin—Tarek—his father ruled Zahkim at the time, and he depended on my father. I suppose we all did. But it was my mother who was the real heart—she was the one who spoke for the people. Or she did until my father died and she left the country. She could not even come to tell me, just left a note."
