by Leslie North
Liyah had had enough. It disgusted her that he couldn’t even drop the mask when they were alone in his suite. She didn’t want to talk anymore about it.
They finished their drinks in silence.
“Thank you for your company. I’m going to bed now. Have a good night.” She could see the tension in his shoulders as he walked—or rather prowled—out, with all the regal nature and danger of a wildcat.
Whatever romance they’d shared seemed to have sated him, and she felt used.
Imran’s words rang in her ears. He has a habit of discarding beautiful women.
So what did he do with plain women?
9
Two days had passed since the ugly event, and Liyah had seen virtually nothing of Asad. When he did finally enter the suite, he looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. “Business keeping you up?” she asked sweetly.
He gave her a tired look. “I’m not in the mood to fight with you.”
“Fight?” she scoffed. “How are we fighting? You are never here to fight! And when you are here, you hardly even look at me!”
“And why do you think that is?” he asked through clenched teeth. His eyes were almost wild as he stared at her.
Her heart hammered in her chest. Were they finally going to talk about the passion they’d shared? It was a terrifying thought, but not knowing what he was thinking was killing her inside. “I think it’s because you’re angry that you can’t throw me away like the rest of your women. You need me to stick around to play out this fantasy of yours until the end.”
Asad laughed dryly. “Believe me, sweetheart, what we have here is nothing close to the fantasies I have about you.”
With that, he left again—escaped, rather—and she was left stunned. She’d thought his coldness was the truth, but it appeared it was nothing more than another one of his masks to hide his desire.
His need for her.
He’d given her a powerful weapon, and she had no idea how to use it.
He stayed away for days, and Liyah turned to Amira for entertainment. The two went shopping, and Liyah was able to visit Sahaar and Mila. Her exchange family obviously wanted to know all the details of her life, but they were too polite to ask in the presence of the princess. News of her engagement had obviously not reached them, and Amira warned her to stay quiet for as long as possible.
When Asad did return, it was for no other reason than to attend another event with her by his side. They both pretended that the morning conversation had never happened. Dressed in a sleek, dark dress with Arabian-scalloped lace, Liyah was determined to be the picture of poise and elegance. She knew that his eyes lingered on her, and she couldn’t help but press the boundaries just a little, lightly touching his thigh or hand when no one was looking.
As soon as the car pulled back up to the palace, he mumbled that he was exhausted and escaped into his room.
She felt a little triumphant that she was finally getting the upper hand.
Exchanging her dress for a pair of cotton pajamas, she tried to sleep, but memories of his touch and kiss kept her awake. Every time she began to drift, she thought that she could feel his phantom kisses on her body, and her desire had her twisting and turning in her bed. Finally admitting that sleep was simply not going to happen, she snuck out and slipped up the stairs to the veranda, where she could see the city lights. The large, full moon bathed the city in her silver light and cast thrilling shadows across the buildings. It did nothing to ease Liyah’s aching, but she was not alone for long.
The door eased open, and Asad stepped out, shirtless and looking just as restless as Liyah felt. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see her.
“Can’t sleep?”
She shook her head.
"Neither can I."
She felt his breath warm her neck and turned, recognizing immediately the intention she saw in his eyes.
"Asad." The word came out in a whisper.
"There's a fire between us. We're going to put it out, one way or another, I suspect."
Averting her eyes, she stepped to one side, and he moved as if to allow her to leave, but then he grabbed her hand. Looking to him, Liyah felt powerless against the heady magnetism charging the space between them.
"I'm not a light switch . . ."
"But you are a light."
When he pulled her close and placed his hands over her breasts, her heart beat against the smooth warmth of his palms. Without another word, he hoisted her up and drew her into his arms. He carried her through the spired, half-circle arches separating the various galleries, parlors, and guest rooms of his estate to the one room she had yet to enter. His.
He lowered her onto his bed, and the mattress dipped as he sank on one knee next to her. Leaning down, he kissed her deeply while he slipped a hand under her cotton shirt.
As he caressed her abdomen, she shivered and moved into his touch. Before, it had been like a wildfire consuming them, but now, his actions were slow and deliberate. Patient. His tongue dipped into her gently, teasing, as his fingers moved up to circle her nipples with just the feather of a touch.
Digging her heels into the mattress, she arched her back and moaned. “Asad,” she pleaded.
“Patience,” he said huskily as his lips skimmed down her throat. “I want to savor every inch of you. I want to hear your cries of orgasm more than once before I enter you, before I make you mine.”
I’m already yours.
He liberated her from her shirt and skimmed his lips lower until his tongue caressed her nipples in tiny circles. Round and round, sending spikes of pleasure coursing through her body. His hands slipped under the waistband of her cotton pajama bottoms, and he made a strangled sound of pleasure.
“Naughty Liyah,” he whispered as he stroked the naked outer lips of her pussy. “Were you making it easier to touch yourself before you went to sleep?” His teeth circled her and tugged until she cried out. “Do you, sweetheart? Do you touch yourself and think of me?”
“I did,” she admitted. She’d tell him anything, so long as he quit playing with her. “I don’t, anymore.”
“And why is that?”
She spread her legs. “It’s not as good as you.”
“Fuck,” he groaned and slid two fingers inside her. They worked her rhythmically as she squirmed beneath him. The sensations were overwhelming, and soon she was crying out softly as the first small orgasm washed over her.
“That’s one,” he whispered hoarsely, moving against her. In the darkness, she reached for him. She wanted to wrap her fingers around his length and squeeze. She wanted to drive him as crazy as he was driving her, but he moved just beyond her reach.
“I won’t last,” he admitted. “And I need this to last.” Settling at her feet, he pulled her pajama bottoms down. Lifting one of her legs, he kissed her ankle and ran a finger under the sensitive part of her foot.
Her body pulsed.
“Do you taste as sweet as you moan?” he asked her as he slowly drew her legs apart. “It’s all I can think about, Liyah. Your body drives me mad.”
She wanted to tell him that he was the one driving her mad, but he settled between her legs, and at the first touch of his tongue, she knew nothing else but pleasure. Slow and teasing licks. A single slide of his finger.
More.
Easy rhythmic circles. Around and around. He curved his finger inside her, and she drew her knees up.
More.
Then his tongue lashed her. The pressure . . . “Ah, yes.”
She gasped as he added another finger, and he licked her over and over again, until every breath was a moan, a plea for him to end the torment.
He knew just when to stop and start again. He held back until she tightened her legs around him, and, with a hoarse laugh, he finished her.
“Two.”
Covered in sweat, she was still struggling to breathe when he rose up next to her. She felt his movement, and when he gripped her hips and lifted her over the top of him, he was naked.
She glided down on him, settled over him, and clenched her muscles around him with ease, and she rode him until the early hours of the dawn. Their moans mingled in the night, intermittent with her panting need and breathy sighs whenever he changed the angle and built up something new.
His stamina would be the death of her.
“Three.” His gasp was taut as he was rapidly losing control, and she knew that she needed to taste him. She wanted him in her mouth when his control finally broke, and she wanted him to know what it was like to be dominated.
Dismounting him, she ignored his demands to return to him, and she flipped her body until she could wrap her hands around his cock.
“Liyah,” he said in a strangled voice. “What are you doing?”
“I want to see how you taste,” she whispered as she flung his words back at him. Before he could object, she leaned down and licked him from base to tip, reveling as his whole body jerked in response.
“Fuck,” he groaned. Still, he couldn’t just enjoy it. Instead, he lifted her hips until she straddled his shoulder, and then he slid that talented tongue over her clit until they were both rocking against each other, struggling to make the moment last. The night drew on as her pleasure became so intense that she had to stop, and then he patiently waited for her to regain her bearings. Over and over again, they teased, until their bodies could take no more. As he plunged his tongue deep inside her, she took him in as deep as she could, her moan vibrating around him.
“Four,” he hissed, and then he spilled himself inside her. She had no idea how he found the strength, but he managed to lift her and turn her.
In that moment, she knew only one thing for certain.
She was ensnared.
Bathed in the flow of sweat and pleasure, their juices mingling between her thighs, she fell against him and had only one question as she fell asleep.
Was he?
10
There were more events, more mixers, more people to woo, but things were different between them. He no longer held that tightness in his chest for fear that she would turn an angry gaze toward him. She no longer stiffened under his touch when they were in public. She was relaxed and at ease with him, and he felt something that he wouldn’t quite identify.
The nights were long and hot. It was a wonder either one of them could function at all with the lack of sleep. He didn’t ask her to his bed—sometimes they didn’t even make it that far. As soon as they stepped into their suite, he had her in his arms, and he kissed her like a desperate man. The couch. The kitchen counter. The shower. At one point, he would have ordered the driver to leave so he could simply take her in the car, but she was too embarrassed.
Asad roamed every inch of Liyah’s body. He learned all her curves, committing them to memory so that even if he lost his sight, he’d still be able to please her—and there were nights when she got the better of him. They pushed. They pulled, and sometimes—just sometimes—he forgot that it wasn’t real.
When she’d collapsed in his bed next to him, completely asleep, he kissed her shoulder and watched her chest rise and fall. “You’re mine,” he whispered in the dark.
She stirred but didn’t wake.
“Things are different,” Amira declared to Liyah as they roamed the local festival in a neighboring city. Huge, colorful tents held the most intricate handmade wares. Men juggled swords and swallowed flames, and women danced seductively to the entrancing music. Liyah was thrilled to be there, and she loved Amira’s company, but she couldn’t help but think that Asad would have enjoyed it as well.
“What do you mean?” She glanced down at the black pants and sophisticated cream top that Amira had insisted she wear. “I mean, I know I usually wear jeans, but you picked this out.”
“Not your clothes,” Amira laughed. “You and Asad. He’s taken with you.”
There was a note of protectiveness in her voice, but it wasn’t for Asad.
It was for Liyah. She and Amira had grown close over the last couple of weeks, and Liyah was grateful. There were times when she thought she might lose her mind.
“It’s just an act,” Liyah reminded her. “Remember?”
“No, there’s something different. Others might not see it, but I do. You must be careful, Liyah. I know my brother well. He mustn’t consider you fully won,” she continued.
“Amira, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Liyah protested, even as she knew that she was blushing. If only Amira really knew what was going on between the two of them. She might put an end to it right then and there, knowing full well that one of them was going to get hurt.
That Liyah was going to get hurt.
“You’re honest, despite this arrangement. You'll have to inspire him to be the same, but it’s unlikely to happen if your eyes slip closed at the wrong moment. Men need fear to weigh against, for them to know the value of their bonds. Anyone can throw away a possession . . .”
Liyah knew that Amira didn’t mean to be hurtful, but her stomach tightened in knots. She was already wide open for Asad. It felt natural to love him and to let him love her, but Amira’s words of caution reminded her that their arrangement was anything but natural.
It was business, and even though she might want more, chances were good that Asad didn’t. Was it too late to close herself off to him, to keep him at bay until the arrangement was over?
Doubtful. Her body responded to the mere mention of his name.
“You’re imagining things,” Liyah said finally, forcing a smile. “Asad is surrounded by beautiful women every day. If he wanted a real relationship, he’d choose one of them. Not me. I know that you’re concerned, but you have nothing to worry about.”
Amira looked at her as though she didn’t believe her, but Liyah knew the one person she really needed to convince was herself.
11
The next day, Liyah slipped even deeper into Asad’s world. A boat ride carried the Sharif family and their friends and business associates along the Persian Gulf. The intricately carved barge was a wonderland of flowing, white drapery, and there were flower petals beneath every step that she took. The smell of salt and plumes of smoke filled the air. Serving girls, dressed in lovely but modest gold dresses that stretched to their ankles, with rose-tinted hijabs, extended trays full of Liyah’s favorite delights—baklava, rich and decadent hummus in colorfully decorated pastry bowls, the sort that made her forget about the Westernized versions served by the Halai Brothers franchise in her old neighborhood. Cardamom and lavender cakes cooled in personal-sized tins, and there was no end to the variety of the finest coffees and teas.
Liyah was truly immersed in luxury, but instead of feeling uncomfortable, she was content under Asad’s loving gaze. He was tender and publicly affectionate.
Others took note.
“I see things are going well,’ Rashid said in a low voice as he took a seat next to them on the deck. “If the sparks between you two are any hotter, you may set the boat on fire.”
Asad sent his younger brother a withering look. “Easy,” he warned. “There are ears here.”
“Relax. No one can hear us. They’re too busy staring at your lovely bride-to-be. Ah! Here comes Bashar now!”
Liyah nearly forgot that she was on stage, but it was obvious that Asad didn’t. He continued stroking her arm with his finger as the investor approached them.
“I only ever get to see you at night,” Bashar joked as he winked at her. “But you are a vision, bathed in sunlight.”
“Are you about to spout sonnets, old man?” Asad teased.
“Someone should, if you do not. Tell me dear, how are the wedding preparations going? I find it odd that Asad’s mother has not returned to help. That woman loves to throw a party.”
Liyah stiffened. She’d completely forgotten that she was supposed to be a bride and not just a lover. No doubt everyone expected her to be stressed over the ceremony. “I will welcome the sheikha’s opinion when she returns. I have a whole binder full of ideas for
her to look over!” That was what engaged women did, right? Make wedding binders?
“Of course. I also assume that you’ll present her the family ring when they return?” Bashar asked, turning a narrowing gaze on Asad.
Liyah swallowed hard. The investor seemed almost suspicious of them. It was odd, considering the way the affection between them was growing more and more natural as time passed.
“Yes,” Asad said stiffly.
“Is there a date set?”
“We’re still working out the details,” Asad said smoothly. “Liyah has family and friends in the States, and we want everyone to attend.”
At the mention of family, her gut tightened. She hadn’t attempted to get in touch with her mother even once since she’d arrived in Dubai. Guilt wrapped itself around her, and she forgot all about Bashar and his suspicions.
Later that evening, as a dark blanket settled over the waters, the boat’s lights sparkled on the surface, and the entertainment began. Belly dancers dressed in red and yellow swiveled their hips and danced, enthralling both the men and women alike. Briefly, Liyah wondered how Asad would react if she learned to move like that.
When the dance ended, a band started a quiet serenade in the background, and Amira waved her over. The dark beauty sat suspended in a hammock enclosed by translucent curtains.
“I can see that you’re enjoying the evening,” she said coyly. “I believe that everyone can. There’s a new look in my brother’s eyes. Remember to make him earn you.”
Earn her? Surely Amira knew that Asad already had her. She couldn’t voice the thought out loud, but Amira’s playful gaze turned serious. “Protect your heart, Liyah. This business arrangement is meant to crumble, and you mustn’t become a plaything. Promise me.”
“I don’t know how to promise that. It’s not my choice—”
“It is,” Amira cut in urgently. “It is your choice, and you must embrace that and make him see it. Makes your values clear, and be wary of his charms. I love my brother, but he is still a man, and they will not strive for more if everything they want is freely given to them.”
