Before he finished talking, she felt him tense, his entire body going rigid under her fingers. “Damn,” he muttered against her ear. The dark slash of his brows lowered into a scowl as he stooped and retrieved his polo shirt. He pulled it over her head, covering her from her shoulders to mid-thigh. She stared at him in questioning disbelief.
Between clenched teeth, he spat out, “Jane, we have company.”
Confusion narrowed her eyes as she glanced from side to side, her gaze taking in the entire length of the terrace. She saw nothing. “What?” she questioned.
He flipped his head toward the open sea. “Out there, the cabin cruiser.”
More than anything on this earth she wanted to turn around and look, but he prevented her movement by grabbing her chin. “Don’t,” he said. “They’re taking pictures. As much as my security force can protect me, the sea leaves room for telephoto lenses to capture my every movement.”
The pictures she’d been ogling in Rapture flew through her mind. How long had those men been there? Oh, God! She was going to be in some awful magazine with her breasts exposed for the whole world to see! What if her family was somewhere out there and they saw horrible semi-naked pictures of her? How could she have been so foolish? Though they were at his private palace, it still was out in the open. What had she been thinking to behave in such a wanton manner out here where anyone could and apparently did see her? For God’s sake! She clutched his chest, leaning into him, concealing her face from the photographers. He wrapped one arm around her in a protective gesture, using the other to pull out his cell phone and dial a number. Speaking in rapid Arabic, he issued orders to his security force. Holding her close, hiding her from any more explicit scrutiny, he started to inch toward the terrace doors. When they were halfway there, suited men rushed past them with weapons drawn. Malik kept walking, but she sneaked a peek under his arm. She watched as a boat overtook the cabin cruiser. Malik’s bodyguards swarmed the paparazzi’s boat, handcuffing the four men aboard.
“Nazem is on it. They will not be so eager to break the law after they spend time in our prison,” he reassured, kissing the top of her forehead.
“Can we just go inside, please?” She was shaking. He held her away from him, his gaze swiftly taking her in.
“You have nothing to fear with me beside you. You are under my protection, and I’ll never let anything hurt you. You must trust me to take care of you.” He inched her chin up with his finger and gazed into her eyes. “Trust me, I will not disappoint you.”
More than anything, she wanted to believe him. Over the past two weeks, he had protected her well. There hadn’t been any more attempts on her life, but a girl could never be too cautious.
“Just get me out of here.”
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 ag
ain 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 everyth
ing 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.
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