by Maisey Yates
No one had ever touched her like this. No one had ever kissed her like this. And she had never realized how much she needed it.
But she needed more already. Needed that perfectly tailored suit of his on the floor, needed to discard her beautiful gown so that there was nothing at all between them.
She was about to make a move to do just that when she found herself completely bereft of his presence. He had released his hold on her, moving away from her, pacing back and forth.
“Tarek...”
“This is unacceptable,” he said.
The words hit her like an arrow to her heart. “No. It’s perfectly acceptable. We are going to be married. It is not acceptable for you to be with anyone else,” she said, stating a possessiveness she had never once spoken aloud to Marcus, unsure why she was doing it now. “So if not with me, then who is this acceptable with?” Her voice was trembling now, and she despised it. “And when?”
“You test my control,” he said. “That is what I find unacceptable.”
“What do you need control here for?”
“Control is nonnegotiable.”
“In this room?” She gestured around them. “With me?” She pressed her hands against her chest.
“In every room. Always.”
“I’m going to be your wife. You have never been married before, and I assume you’ve been with other women, so I can’t imagine what the issue is.”
“You are not my wife yet.” His words were insistent. Maddeningly opaque.
“But I will be.”
“And when we consummate, it will be then. And it will be in the proper order.”
“Am I to understand that you object to the spontaneity of this?” She was just peeved now.
“Yes. Because I refuse to allow my body to dictate my actions.”
“There is nothing wrong with this...”
“After the wedding.”
“Perhaps I don’t want to wait until after the wedding.” She was feeling slightly ashamed of how hard she was pushing. But then, why should she not? This was to be her marriage, too. What she wanted was important. And she wanted him.
“I must maintain my focus. I cannot afford to be distracted.”
“Tarek—”
“I can be ruled by nothing. My only master is this kingdom. I must do everything in my power to protect it. I have spent my life casting off earthly desires, and I will not give in to them now.”
Somewhere in her lust-fogged brain, she tried to make sense of his words. Tried to figure out something to say next. But she couldn’t.
“Get out,” he said, “or I will leave and find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”
“I’m not going to beg,” she said, her tone wooden. “Nor am I going to violate your person against your will.”
“Tonight went well. Do not let this ruin it.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Do you know anything about women?”
“No,” he said, his tone dark.
“If you did, then you would know that rejection is always going to cast a pall over the evening.”
“I’m not rejecting you. I am marrying you.”
She flung her arms wide. “Well, I’m the luckiest girl in the world.”
“Why are you angry with me?”
“Because,” she said, ignoring the tightening in her throat, “you hurt my feelings.”
Oh, how she despised herself for that moment of honesty. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was too deep in this to see that she was letting it affect her judgment. Normally, she was much more like Tarek. Guarded. Holding back pieces of herself. Not allowing desire or a need for anything to dictate her actions.
Maybe he was right to be wary of this thing between them.
His dark brow furrowed. “How?”
“Because...I take it as...commentary on my appearance. On my appeal.”
He let out a hoarse laugh. “There is nothing wrong with your appeal. That is the problem. I cannot allow your appeal to become bigger than my goals.” His dark eyes dropped down to her lips. “I must never let my own desires become larger than the tasks I have to complete.”
“Not even desiring your fiancée?”
“Nothing. Where would it end? You don’t understand... My brother... He was driven entirely by his own desire. It was not limited to sexual need. But greed. For power, for money. It overtook him. And we carry the same blood. Where does it begin? And where does it end? I don’t know the answer. I will give no foothold to that level of greed. None. Not even for you. I must keep my focus clearly set.”
“But later...”
“It will be different. It will be in its place. Part of my obligations, and not merely a temptation.”
“Am I a temptation?”
He clenched his teeth tightly, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “You are the only real temptation I have ever faced.” With that, he turned away from her, summarily dismissing her without another word.
But he couldn’t dismiss the admission. She was a temptation for him.
She had never been a temptation for anyone before. For Marcus, she had been another indulgence in a lifetime of them. And she hadn’t even truly been that. She had been the suitable woman, the one he had married.
She tempted Tarek.
She wanted to hold that close, to examine it and turn it over in private, where she could decide how exactly she felt about it.
“When exactly are we to be married?”
Another raw laugh escaped his lips. “From where I am standing, I would say the sooner the better.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A WEEK SINCE his encounter with Olivia had done nothing to cool the arousal in his blood. She tempted him, she tempted him beyond the need for anything else. He had been in dire straits in the desert. Sometimes without food, sometimes without water. And yet, now he craved her more than he craved either of those things. And it was unacceptable.
He was determined not to succumb to this. This wild need that was like a prowling animal inside him, tearing at years of well-practiced restraint.
Even now, he could taste her on his lips. Could recall exactly the soft, delicate feel of her mouth beneath his.
He had nearly crushed her beneath his need. He had been rough. He despised himself for that. For his lack of restraint.
He paced the length of his chamber. He had set the wedding day today. Had told his advisor that everything would need to be planned and set into motion for a ceremony to take place in two weeks’ time. He’d had a notice sent to Olivia. He imagined she would be quite annoyed with him.
He didn’t care. He was quite annoyed with her.
With all that she made him feel.
She expected sex. Of course she did. She had been married before, and she had no reason to expect their relationship to deviate from what she considered normal.
Nothing about him was normal.
He considered himself the furthest thing from an innocent. After all, he had endured grief, loss, torture. He had taken the lives of enemies when necessary. There was no place for innocence when you had watched a man’s soul depart from his body at your own hand. No, no room for it at all.
And yet, while he considered himself devoid of innocence, the word virgin hung large as an accurate description for his state of being. Indeed, he had never even kissed a woman until that moment with Olivia. There had never been opportunity. Or perhaps there had been. There had been many women in the Bedouin camps, widows who probably would have appreciated a bit of comfort and company. But he had never allowed his focus to stray. Had never allowed the impulses of his body to control his actions.
That focus, that determination had been paramount to his survival. Releasing his hold on it was never an option.
Whether
he was a virgin or not had never mattered until now. Sexual desire was simply another appetite he’d cast off.
But he was discovering that introducing the desire for sex, the appetite for it, was much different than an appetite for food. He had managed to find ways to keep himself fed without allowing himself to desire rich flavors. Without allowing himself to be controlled by specific cravings.
Now that he had tasted Olivia, he wondered if there was any way to satisfy sexual need in a basic way. One that wouldn’t consume.
He doubted it now.
Of course, part of the issue was that he remained uneducated on the subject.
He had seen a great many animals copulate. Knew what that looked like. Knew the mechanics. And yet, the way Olivia looked at him, the way she responded to his touch, the way he had watched his brother abandon all for the sake of hedonistic appetites, told him that there was much more to it than that.
And beyond that, the gnawing hunger that had taken residence inside him from the moment he had first seen Olivia told him there was more.
Preparation. That was what always helped a new soldier. Doing drills, learning everything there was to know about the enemy.
Preparation made events seem less remarkable.
Of course, there was no way for him to acquire physical practice. But when practical experience couldn’t be had, reading would suffice.
He walked across the room to the vast library housed in the other end of the chamber, certain there was a book here that would satisfy his curiosity. After all, his brother had purchased a great many of the books.
His brother had been a bit shorter than he was, so Tarek looked slightly lower than eye level scanning the center shelves for anything that seemed to pertain to the subject. He was not disappointed.
He opened the volume, his eye immediately drawn to the detailed sketches of anatomy on the first pages. Yes, he could see he had a great deal to learn. He turned the page and there was a drawing of a man caressing a woman’s bare breasts. He thought of Olivia, the way she had felt pressed against his body. The soft, feminine shape of her and how she had fitted so perfectly against him.
Need bloomed hot and low in his stomach.
In that moment, he had a great many of his own fantasies. But he wanted to know all of the possibilities. He wanted to miss nothing.
He squashed that thought. This wasn’t about him. It was about her. Fulfilling his obligations as a husband and nothing more.
More important even than fulfilling obligations was mastering his need. He must form a strategy so that when faced with his opponent, he would not waver.
She was so soft. And his hands, warrior’s hands, so rough. When he placed them over her body he had to be sure he would deliver only pleasure. Had to be certain he would not...break her.
Of course he knew the mechanics of sex. He’d been fifteen when he’d left the palace after all. But fifteen-year-old boys might nudge each other and talk about women’s bodies. But they did not discuss a woman’s pleasure. Did not discuss control.
He needed to understand both of those things. For Olivia had known the touch of another man. She deserved pleasure.
And he required control.
An hour later, he had made it halfway through the book and was not feeling at all like education had done anything to lessen his desire. Certainly, he had some ideas that were new. And very, very interesting.
But that had not been the plan.
There was a firm knock on his door, and he cast the book aside. Strange that this was something he felt the need to hide, but he did. He hated needing to admit his lack of mastery.
He stood, ignoring the vague ache in his groin and the tightness in his stomach as he made his way to the door.
He opened the door only to meet Olivia’s fearsome blue gaze. “Yes?”
“I am informed, by a member of staff, by the way, not you, that we are to be married in two weeks.”
“Yes,” he bit out.
He would not allow her entry. His head was entirely filled with the images in that book and the images painted by the explicit instructions. And if he allowed her to get too close, he would only be tempted to put his new education to practical use.
“That’s impossible. It takes months to plan an event of that magnitude. You forget, I have been through this before.”
Yes, she had. In this, and in the things he had just been researching, she had more experience than he did.
But he frightened people. And he found that was more effective than experience at times.
Not with sex, obviously, but in the planning of a wedding, yes.
“It is eminently possible. This will not be like your first wedding.”
“Well, it couldn’t be. Good luck getting five hundred live doves this late in the game.”
“I cannot tell if you’re joking or not.”
“I’m not. My first wedding was ridiculous. Beautiful, but ridiculous.”
“I cannot promise this wedding will be less ridiculous. Less extravagant, certainly.”
“Two weeks?”
He arched a brow. “Did you want more time?”
She shook her head resolutely. “No. I am decided. But I’m doubtful that you can pull this off in two weeks.”
“Why would you doubt? I have you to help.”
“I can’t decide if I feel complimented or put upon.”
“Why choose one? You are a woman, and I’m quickly learning that means you can be both.”
“You do learn quickly,” she said.
He hoped so.
“Two weeks,” he reiterated.
“Two weeks,” she said. “But, Tarek, next time, tell me yourself when you set our wedding date.”
He nodded, attempting a smile, because this, he was confident, was a joke of sorts. “Next time.”
* * *
Two weeks passed quickly. Were Tarek a beloved monarch who had been on the throne for years, he could see the point of creating a spectacle out of his wedding. For the media, for the citizens. But as he was not, he felt there were better ways to spend his country’s money than on a lavish event they had not chosen, and one he and Olivia certainly didn’t need.
He had, in the past few weeks, spent time looking at photos of Olivia. It was easier than talking to her to gather information. Perhaps not the most up-front way of going about getting to know her, but he had been avoiding her since the kiss.
During that research he had seen photos of her at many social events. And he had seen her first husband. Polished, as blond as she was. He had seen their wedding. An intricate event that had lasted two days and commanded the attention of the media worldwide.
And then Tarek had seen pictures of her with himself. Mainly unsmiling, definitely not polished.
There was a photo of her holding his face, just after the speech. Her hands were so very pale on his dark skin. Highlighting the differences between them. She had said she did not think of herself as being part of her first husband still, and yet, looking at the pictures, he could see that she had been. They blended.
Whereas he...he did not look as if he belonged with her.
Of course, that was immaterial. They were marrying each other anyway. Today, in fact.
Which meant that tonight he would be out of excuses for not consummating the attraction between them. He gritted his teeth. They were not excuses. He had valid reasoning for resisting the heat that fired in his blood whenever she touched him. What he had said to her about his brother was true. Malik had been a man entirely ruled by his own desires. Tarek was a man made entirely of resistance. A man who had learned to shun everything unnecessary.
Seeing to his wife’s physical needs now fell under the banner of his responsibility, he could not deny that. But giving in to temptation in his
bedroom after the speech seemed a violation of everything he was.
He had wanted her then. Hard, and fast. He had known it would be fast.
Heat lashed him like a whip.
He was more prepared now than he had been then. He had read not just one, but several books on the subject. And he had learned a great deal about female anatomy. He was grateful that he had, because he’d had no idea just how intricate the mechanics of the act could be.
Neither had he anticipated just how much his body would be captivated with the promise of it.
He had spent thirty years denying his impulses. His needs.
The prospect of no longer denying certain impulses loomed large. The thought, the very idea, had worked its way under his skin like a bullet, traveling through his body, blooming outward slowly, looking for a place to land where it might destroy whatever it touched.
Not the most delightful analogy. But then, he wasn’t surprised, considering he was rarely delightful.
Olivia’s first husband had been delightful. All of Tarek’s research had brought him to that conclusion. He wondered how quickly she would tire of being with a man who wasn’t. Though he had not coerced her into this. Far from that. She had been the one to come to him. The one to present a case for why he needed her.
Not for the first time he wondered what she was getting out of this. If she had thought to replace what she had lost, to recapture what it was to be royalty, she had most certainly come to the wrong place. Her life in Alansund had been filled with parties, glittering affairs, delightful excursions on the lake, picnics with her husband, the king.
Tarek could honestly say he would not be engaging in any of that.
Sex, however, would not be something he denied her. He was ready now. Preparation always brought a clearer head. Now that he had a plan, he would remain in command of his body, of his impulses when the time came. And in that way, he was determined to please her. Because it certainly seemed more desirable than throwing an increased number of parties.
For a start, it only required there to be two of them in the room. For another thing, Olivia would be naked.
He could not deny that added incentive.
