by Abby Green
She clung to the material of Sadiq’s robe, registering the muscles of his chest against the back of her hands. This kiss blew their first kiss out of the water. Sadiq’s tongue caressed the seam of her lips and she opened to him with a deep groan of need, clasping him even tighter when his tongue delved in and met hers, stroking along it with the sure mastery of a man who knew how to kiss, and well.
He clasped the back of her head, holding her captive to his erotic attack, and his other hand moved down over the curve of her waist and to her bottom, pulling her up and into him. When she felt the thrillingly hard ridge of his arousal against her soft belly Samia went still. Their breath mingled. And then an even greater sense of urgency drove her and she arched herself into Sadiq as much as she could, the hot, spiralling need within her making her feel desperate. Her breasts were crushed to his chest and her arms had risen to wind around his neck. And their kiss went on and on, getting so hot that Samia almost expected to feel flames licking up her back.
After a long moment something indefinable shifted between them and Sadiq started to pull back. Without even intending it, she gave a little mewl of protest. He pulled his head back and with excruciating slowness sanity returned to Samia’s brain, along with much needed oxygen.
It seemed to take an age for her to be able to open her eyes, and when she did all she could see were two stormy blue oceans. Her arms were around his neck, one of his hands was on her head, his other hand was cupping her bottom. His erection hadn’t subsided one bit, and she had to fight not to give in to the urge to rock against him with her pelvis—a completely instinctive move, seeking friction.
Along with the shock filtering into her brain was something much more nebulous and disbelieving. He’d kissed her. Why had he kissed her? He’d kissed her as if he were a drowning man in the desert who’d just found water. Or had that been her? She’d certainly been drowning.
Instantly aware of how she was clinging to him like some kind of octopus, Samia pulled back, dislodging his hands. She felt the absurd urge to apologise, her eyes darting away from that gaze which saw too much. She felt over-hot and dishevelled. Had she thrown herself at him? Overcome with a build-up of desire she hadn’t even acknowledged?
A hand come to her chin, forcing her to look up at him again. She was undone and he looked … amazing. Her belly clenched hard with another spurt of desire.
His mouth quirked and her belly flip-flopped. ‘I can see you doubting what just happened.’
Samia went pink. Was she so easy to read?
Sadiq smiled. ‘I kissed you because I’ve thought about little else since we last kissed. I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you—because your face, your eyes—’ his eyes dropped to her mouth ‘—your mouth is all I can think about.’
Samia gulped, wondering if she was dreaming. She could see the horses standing restlessly just feet away. She could feel the heat of the unrelenting sun on her head. She frowned, trying to make sense of this development and the burgeoning lick of excitement within her.
‘But why … why haven’t you wanted to spend any time with me?’
Sadiq grimaced and let go of her chin. ‘Because of exactly what just happened. I’m not in control around you …’
He cursed and spun away for a moment and Samia blinked. Not in control around her? That was as fantastical a thing for her to hear as if Sadiq had just told her they were expecting a snow shower any moment.
Obeying some urge to clarify this, or to see if he was mocking her, Samia reached out to touch his arm. He turned around and she dropped her hand, the feel of those muscles through the thin material of his robe far too disconcerting to her very shaky equilibrium.
She steeled herself. ‘I don’t know … What you’re saying is crazy.’ Sanity came back, and along with it the insecurity she’d battled all her life. He had to be lying, or jesting, or something. ‘I don’t believe you.’
The most powerful, gorgeous man in the world could not be standing here telling her that she turned him on to the point of distraction.
He looked grim. ‘I couldn’t believe it either.’
Samia flushed. If anything, that statement convinced her. Of course he hadn’t believed this. The bookish, boring wife he’d chosen was turning into something of an anomaly. No wonder he was grim.
She hitched up her chin, emotion threatening to constrict her throat. She felt as though some long-diminished part of her was being allowed to breathe again, but Sadiq clearly resented it because it didn’t fit with his plans. ‘It’s obvious that this isn’t something you expected, but as we’re to be married then surely …’ Her bravado crumbled. ‘Surely at least it’ll make things … easier?’
He quirked a brow. ‘You mean in the bedroom?’
Samia’s face flamed but she nodded. Sadiq moved closer again, and Samia had trouble standing her ground.
His voice was low and wickedly seductive, all grimness gone and replaced with sensual promise. ‘It’ll certainly make things more pleasurable. The only problem will be keeping my mind on issues of the state rather than my wife’s delectable body. I hadn’t anticipated that.’
Samia had a vivid memory of his conversation with his lawyer that first day, and how he’d laid out his reasons for wanting a conservative bride: because the stability of his country came first and he wanted no distractions. Hurt at his obvious surprise and reluctance at this turn of events had her retorting waspishly, ‘I’m not going to apologise for the failure of your efforts to choose a wife so unappealing that you wouldn’t have to deal with the annoying complication of attraction. Clearly it’s just your libido that’s rampant. I’m sure any other woman standing in front of you would be having the same effect, even one as unassuming as me.’
Samia turned and walked jerkily over to her horse, gathering the reins before finding her footing in the stirrup and swinging lithely onto the horse’s back. She set off back the way she’d come, not even looking to see if Sadiq was following her. When she heard him behind her she straightened her spine and fought the urge to make a gallop for it.
Sadiq looked at the tense back of the woman in front of him. He’d almost grabbed her to him when she’d whirled away just now—to do what? he asked himself. To keep kissing her until he couldn’t stop and had them both on the desert ground, making love against the unforgiving sand? Because that was what would have happened if he hadn’t clawed up some elusive self-control from somewhere and stopped kissing her.
She was wrong. He couldn’t imagine any other woman turning him on as she just had. Some of the most beautful women had thrown themselves at him, and one memorable time one had even been waiting naked in his bed. He’d had no problem turning his back on them.
And with the women he had chosen, he’d had no problem turning his back once he was done with them. He’d certainly never lost himself in a simple kiss as he just had with Samia. Something about her artless innocence mixed with that earthy sensuality made his brain turn to liquid heat.
He’d told himself that his ability to control himself with lovers had been down to the lesson harshly learnt when he’d been so young and so foolish. As if he’d consciously trained himself to control base desires. But he was realising now that the reason he hadn’t lost control was because he simply hadn’t felt a depth of desire so strong that it obliterated anything in its path. It was that depth of desire that made him want to ride up alongside Samia and pluck her from her saddle so that he could feel her body pressed up close to his.
Not wanting to have to think about those uncomfortable revelations, he did just that. Caution was thrown to the wind as he pulled up beside Samia. The voices in his head quietened. Reaching over, he pulled her, protesting vociferously, from the back of her horse and onto his saddle in front of him, between his legs, where his erection once again came to throbbing life. But he didn’t care.
As he took the reins of her horse in one hand to lead it home he could hear her spluttering and working up to a tirade. She was tense enough to bre
ak between his legs. He bit back a smile of satisfaction and bent his head to whisper in her ear. ‘Relax, Samia. And you’re wrong, you know. There’s not another woman on the planet right now who could induce me to lose my mind with a simple kiss.’
He snaked a proprietorial hand around her middle and felt triumphant when she relaxed against him. He could also feel when she gave up trying to articulate a reponse. He had to grit his teeth to fight the desire to move his hand down underneath those tight jodphurs to feel if his arousal pressing into her bottom was having as incendiary an effect on her as it was on him.
The rest of the ride home was as torturous as it was curiously exhilarating.
A few hours later Samia stepped out of her shower to dry off, and couldn’t stop remembering how Sadiq’s arousal had felt against her bottom. By the time they’d got back to the castle she’d been as weak as a kitten, all but slithering off the horse into his waiting arms.
His chief aide had been hopping up and down, babbling something about a meeting and people waiting. Sadiq had let her go after a long moment and reminded her, ‘The function is tonight. I’ll come for you at seven.’
And Samia had watched him walk away, disorientated and seriously bewildered by all the emotions he was arousing within her. She’d forgotten entirely about the function.
A knock came to her bathroom door then, and Samia jumped, putting her towel around her firmly before opening it to see Alia outside with a long dress on a hanger. She was dressed as all of Sadiq’s servants were dressed, in impeccable white. ‘I’m ready to dress you, Your Highness.’
Samia smiled at the girl, despite her sudden trepidation at the prospect of the evening ahead. ‘Okay, I’ll be right out.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
AN hour later Samia was waiting nervously for Sadiq. When the knock came on her door Alia opened it and stood back to let Sadiq come in, curtseying as he did so. Samia didn’t notice Alia slip out, or the door close. All she saw was Sadiq in a dark tuxedo, looking almost criminally handsome, and she couldn’t help but think back to that evening in the study and the singular way he’d made love to that woman. Almost as if he was looking to assuage that ennui Samia had witnessed.
He came into the room, hands in his pockets, and just looked at her for such a long, silent moment that Samia forgot about painful memories and put a nervous hand to her hair, which Alia had put in a complicated chignon. ‘Alia said it was more appropriate to have it up with a dress like this.’
Sadiq quirked a small smile, making his teeth flash and heat bloom between Samia’s thighs. ‘You haven’t looked at yourself yet?’
She flushed and shook her head, hating that he’d seen that vulnerability before.
‘Come here,’ he said, so softly that she almost didn’t hear. But then she saw the impatience on his face and moved forward, her legs touching the silk of the dress, feeling unbearably decadent. She couldn’t read Sadiq’s expression, but something in it made her nerve-endings jump and sizzle. Goosebumps broke out across her skin as she stopped in front of him, and once again he took her shoulders and turned her around to face the mirror.
Reflexively Samia looked away, and heard him sigh expressively behind her. She had to get over this—so she looked back. And saw someone else standing in the mirror. For a split second she didn’t actually recognise herself. The woman reflected back was a woman, not a girl, with her hair up and twisted into loose waves which made her neck look long and elegant.
Shadow on her eyes made them look smokily blue, the lashes long and spiky. A flush stained her cheeks and her lips looked moist and pink. Bare shoulders showed off pale skin, and when her eyes dropped they widened to see how the bodice of the silvery grey dress produced a gravity-defying cleavage.
Her eyes snapped up to Sadiq’s. She brought her hands up to cover her chest. ‘I had no idea—’
He smiled. ‘That you had breasts?’ He turned her around and kept his hands on her shoulders, burning her skin. ‘Well, you do. And you look.’ His gaze dropped and came back up. ‘Beautiful.’
Samia opened her mouth and Sadiq put his hand over it, stopping her.
‘No. I don’t want to hear one word of doubt again. We will be presented to the world tonight, and you need to start believing in yourself—because if they sense even a hint of insecurity they will pounce.’
He took his hand away and Samia’s mouth closed. She felt wobbly inside and all over. This whole scene was so far removed from anything she’d expected. Was he saying this just to bolster her confidence before they appeared in public? But the faint incredulity in Sadiq’s tone when he’d said she was beautiful made her believe that perhaps he had meant it. After all, she hardly even recognised herself.
He reached into a pocket then, and pulled out a small velvet bag, opening it up to let two stunning platinum and diamond earrings fall into his hand. He handed them to Samia.
She took in a shaky breath and turned to look in the mirror to put them on. They were long and ornately elaborate, without being over the top, and swung against her neck, sparkling when she moved. She looked up at Sadiq and said huskily, ‘Thank you. I’ll take good care of them for the evening.’
He looked slightly bewildered by her reaction. ‘They’re yours, Samia. Everything I give you now is yours to keep.’
Sadiq took her hand to lead her from the room and the chaste gesture suddenly felt very intimate—because no one was there, so he didn’t have to do it. Just as he didn’t have to kiss you in the desert today. But he did.
She saw him spot the perfume bottle he’d gifted her on a table, and said hastily, while trying to block out the memory of the overpowering smell, ‘Thank you for the perfume too.’
Dryly he said, ‘And yet you don’t wear it?’
Samia blushed behind him, cursing his powers of observation—and smell. ‘I … it’s lovely, but it’s just a bit strong for me.’
He looked back as they reached the door, grimacing slightly. ‘I realised it was all wrong for you today. I’ve already commissioned another scent and it should be ready for our wedding.’
‘Okay,’ Samia replied ineffectually as she followed him out. She was a little poleaxed at his admission that he’d realised it was wrong for her, and suddenly all those vulnerable feelings were back. She knew that if the next scent was anything close to something she’d have picked her herself she’d be in a lot of trouble.
On their walk to the main part of the castle they passed ancient stone walls with soaring ceilings, and tiny open-air courtyards where exotic peacocks stepped carefully among the plants. Burning flame lanterns lit their way, making the mosaics on some parts of the walls glint, effervescent in the light. It was truly breathtaking, and yet somehow diminished by the tall man who held Samia’s hand. It was almost impossible to think of this intimidating castle as her home. And of this man as her husband.
Sadiq was silent until they came to the return which led to the main grand staircase leading down to the formal reception area and banquet hall. He turned and looked at her and just said, ‘Ready?’
Samia was about to say, No, and I don’t think I ever will be, but stopped herself. This was it. Her heart was beating rapidly, and jerkily she nodded her head once. ‘Ready.’
Sadiq took her hand, lifted it to his mouth and kissed the inner palm, scattering Samia’s brain to pieces. ‘Good girl.’
And then he was leading her by the hand around the corner.
Down below there was a veritable sea of people. Women like birds of paradise in stunning gowns and glittering jewels, and men dashing in dark tuxedoes and some in more traditional robes with elaborate headdresses. Sadiq tucked her arm into his and they walked down the stairs. Samia held on tight and tried to smile, even though she felt as if she was walking into a lion-infested den.
Two hours later Samia’s feet ached, her head ached and her face ached from smiling. She’d sat at Sadiq’s side at dinner, and now they were mingling with the guests, who were a mix of the crème de la crème
of Al-Omari society and visiting heads of state—like Sheikh Nadim and his wife from Merkazad.
The rest of the guests would be arriving for the wedding the following day, along with Samia’s brother and sisters.
She wished Kaden could be here, but he’d been held up in London.
For a moment Sadiq was pulled away from Samia’s side to speak with someone and she felt momentary panic. But just then Sadiq’s mother, Yasmeena, appeared and took Samia’s arm. Samia smiled. She liked the older woman.
‘You look stunning tonight, my dear.’
Samia fought against her natural response to put herself down and smiled graciously. ‘Thank you, Yasmeena. And you look lovely too.’
Yasmeena smiled. ‘You’re going to be so good for my son. I can feel it.’
Samia blushed. ‘I hope I don’t let him down.’ And as soon as she said the words she realised that she actually meant them. Somewhere along the way her loyalties had sided firmly with Sadiq, and she felt a responsibility to him now, and to his country.
Yasmeena squeezed her arm. ‘You won’t. Everyone is captivated by you, Samia, you’re a natural.’
Samia smiled weakly. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ At that moment a movement caught Samia’s eye and she looked up to see Sadiq nearby, holding court. He stood head and shoulders above everyone else, so handsome. Something inside her clenched hard.
‘You like him, don’t you?’
Samia’s head snapped back to Yasmeena. She felt absurdly exposed. ‘Well … that is, of course I like him … but it is an arranged marriage. You know that.’
She felt very defensive all of a sudden. But Yasmeena hadn’t noticed. She seemed to have gone inwards to some private space, and the sadness in her amazing blue eyes was profound. She looked at Samia, smiling a little. ‘I’d always hoped for more for Sadiq. I didn’t want him to have the same kind of sterile marriage I had with his father. But he will be good to you. His father was … not a kind man. Sadiq is certainly not soft, but he’s compassionate—which is more than his father ever was. I’m afraid we’re not very close. His father guarded him jealously, and he went to boarding school so young.’
