by Maisey Yates
“Yes,” he said, his voice rough; a stranger’s voice. “But you don’t know what you’re asking for, Katharine. I don’t even know.”
“I’m showing you that here, in broad daylight, with my full wits about me, that I want this. That I want you. That you’re so handsome you take my breath away.”
“This is about more than that,” he said. “Always, always I have to concentrate. To keep control. To make sure that I don’t … miss anything. That nothing happens.”
She shook her head, green eyes round. “No. You don’t have to. Rest. With me.”
One of her legs tangled with his beneath the surface of the water, so cool and smooth. So sexy it sent a shudder of need through him. He wrapped one arm around her waist, drawing her to him, her flesh slick against his, the feeling so erotic he was afraid he was going to lose it then and there.
Right there, those words, they should have made him stop. Should have made him release her. Let her go. Because he had nothing to counter those words with. No offer of a future. She offered him rest, while he could offer … what was there to offer?
She had helped him, it was undeniable. She had changed him. She had given and given. And he had taken it all. He was about to take more, but if it cost him his soul he could not turn away.
He should. But he could not. She offered him her body, and so much more. Rest. And the need to take it was such that he ached with it.
He lowered his head and claimed her lips, his tongue sliding against hers, the heat that spiraled though his body reckless and needy. Beyond control.
The slick glide of her flesh against him had him hanging on by the very last shred of his control. He didn’t even wait for it to snap. He simply let go and fell into the abyss of desire that had opened up in him.
Katharine felt the change in Zahir. His movements fluid, when before they had held tension. His mouth was hungry on hers, his hands sliding over her curves effortlessly, aided by the water.
He cupped her bottom with his large hand, kneading her flesh. She arched into him, unconcerned with the indelicate moan that vibrated through her. Because she couldn’t worry about anything except pleasure when Zahir was touching her.
He moved his hand down and gripped her thigh, drawing her leg up, opening her to him. He rocked the hard ridge of his arousal against her and she gasped, tightening her hold on him so that she didn’t lose her hold and float away.
“Zahir,” she said, knowing he would want to hear it again. And because she couldn’t hold it back.
“Did you bring anything? A blanket? I will lay you in the sand if I have to,” he growled against her lips, “but I would like something softer for you.”
“I brought a blanket,” she said, heat creeping into her cheeks.
“Minx.”
“You love it.”
“I’m not opposed to it.”
He lifted her up out of the water and hoisted her into his arms. “In the bag!” she said, pointing to the backpack.
He bent down, still keeping his hold on her, and pulled out the beaded, opulent quilt she’d stolen off her own bed earlier. Folding it small enough to fit in the pack had been a trick, but a trick well worth the effort.
He had to release her to spread it out, and she felt cold, unsatisfied without his touch. As soon as the jade silk was spread out over the soft ground, she dropped to her knees, ready for him. Beyond ready.
He went down with her, on his knees, and he pulled her to him. He didn’t ravish her lips like she expected. He paused, stroked his fingers over her face, brushing her hair from her eyes.
“Having limited vision when there is so much beauty to see may be my greatest curse,” he said, his voice sounding constricted.
She took his other hand in hers and put it on her waist. “You can use your other senses to help you see,” she whispered.
“And I will, latifa, my beauty, I will.”
He stroked his hand over her hip, then up to her breasts, teasing her nipples. But it was just a stop on his way up to the knot of string that held her bikini in place. He released it with practiced fingers, letting it fall down to the blanket. “So incredible,” he said, cupping her skin.
“I feel as though I owe you,” she said, putting her hands on his lean hips and hooking her fingers into the waistband of his swim shorts. She tugged them down, the fabric catching on his arousal. She cursed softly and he laughed.
“It’s okay,” he said, his hands covering hers as he finished removing them.
“Nothing wrong with your body at all,” she said, encircling his length with her hand, squeezing him lightly. Amazing. She hadn’t realized just how incredible a man’s body could be. How much it would turn her on.
She doubted a random man’s body would have half the effect on her that Zahir’s did. She was certain, in fact. He was special. He was incredible. And she spoke the words, so he would know.
He caught her hand, stilling her movements. “There still won’t be … when Alexander comes of age … “
She looked down, ignoring the sadness that was swelling in her chest. “I know.”
“I have nothing for you, Katharine.”
She squeezed him again. “That’s not true.”
He let his head fall back on a groan and he gave himself over to the pleasure she was giving him. It made her heart race. Made her feel a sort of heady rush of power, along with arousal. Making him hot got her hot. His pleasure radiated through her, almost as powerful as if he were the one stroking her.
And then he was, his fingers moving over the fabric of her bikini bottoms before he pushed beneath the fabric, stroking over her damp flesh. She looked at him, met his eyes while they gave and took pleasure that way.
When they were both panting, Zahir untied her bikini bottoms and pressed a kiss to her lips, dipping her gently onto the blanket. He covered her then, his gaze intense on hers. He slid a hand over her body, over her curves, then down in between her thighs.
He stroked her, his touch like fire, a wicked heat that spread through her like flame in the desert. “I have to be sure you’re ready,” he said, sliding a finger inside her.
She nodded, arching against him, digging her heels into the blanket. He added a second finger, gently stroking in and out of her, the sensation so deep, so intense, she didn’t know if she could withstand it.
“I’m ready,” she said.
He searched her face, the concern there, on his scarred, warrior’s face, so touching it made her heart squeeze tight.
She parted her thighs and he settled between them, the thick head of his erection testing her, pushing in slowly, allowing her time to adjust to having him inside her.
She gripped his shoulders tight, knowing her fingernails were digging into him. Unable to care. But his hoarse groan of pleasure as he thrust into her fully made her think he didn’t care, either.
And then she couldn’t think at all. Because he was moving in her in the most amazing way, pushing her arousal up another notch. To a level she hadn’t imagined existed.
She gripped his back, slid her hands over his skin, feeling the rough, scarred flesh beneath her palms. Her Zahir. She moved her hands down and cupped his butt, drawing him tighter into her, meeting his thrust at the same time, the motion sending a hot pulse of desire through her.
He thrust, and she met him, the two of them creating their own rhythm beneath the hot desert sun.
Sensation built in her until everything in her seemed to seize up for one, immeasurable moment. She wanted to cry out, but she was frozen, clinging tightly to her last bit of control. And then it all burst free, pleasure, satisfaction, pouring through her like a flood, dousing the heat, quenching her thirst.
Zahir felt his climax roaring through him, felt his grip on everything but Katharine slipping, fading. And he wasn’t afraid of it. Or what he might do. Because Katharine was precious, amazing. She filled him.
And when he came, he welcomed the hot rush of pleasure that blocked out everything else. The
white-hot flame that licked through his veins and jump-started his heart, making it race, filling him with wave after wave of pulsing emotion.
When he finished, he gathered her to him, watched a sleepy smile cross her face, beautiful green eyes closing.
And for a moment, he felt peace.
“It’s late.”
Katharine opened her eyes, shocked at how cold the air had become, how dark it was. She nestled into Zahir’s chest, curling her fingers in.
He picked her hand up and kissed her palm. “Don’t you think we should head back, little kitten?”
She laughed. “Kitten?”
“I have the scratches to prove it.”
She rolled onto her back and put her hands over her face. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“Simply incredible,” she said, removing her hands and staring at the clear sky. Stars were starting to bleed through, like glittering dust across the vast space.
“The desert is like a different world at night.”
She rolled to her side. “I didn’t mean the desert. I meant you.”
“Katharine … “
“Oh, come on, Zahir, since when does a man reject a compliment in relation to his sexual prowess?”
“It has been so long, I cannot remember what I used to say in response.”
Katharine’s stomach tightened. She’d wondered if there had been a woman since the attack. Since Amarah.
“It used to be an easy thing. What was a little harmless sex? I was a man with money and power, and women loved that. I wasn’t vain but … I was handsome, and they wanted me. It was all so easy.”
“You could have still had women, Zahir. You must realize that.”
“But why would they be with me, Katharine? For what reason?”
“Pleasure,” she said without skipping a beat.
“Maybe. Or would it be because they didn’t think they could tell the Beast of Hajar no? That they could not refuse the Sheikh? Before, I never asked why. I just accepted what was there for me. But now … I wonder why they said yes then, too.” He laughed. “Being alone gives you too much time to think.”
“I don’t know why the other women said yes. But I didn’t just say yes, Zahir, I said take me. I did it because I want you. You. Not you in spite of the scarring, the ones inside or out. You with the scars. They don’t scare me. They don’t bother me. I don’t find you to be less of a man. I think you’re more.”
He didn’t speak; he simply stared at the sky for a moment. “I kept them away because I feared what I might do. What might happen. But when you touched me this time, I knew it would be all right.”
Katharine felt her throat tighten, her chest aching with tears.
“We need to head back now,” he said, his voice rough. She knew he regretted being so open with her. But she couldn’t regret it. She wanted to hold it tightly to her chest, cling to it.
She nodded. “Okay.”
She didn’t want to head back. She wanted to stay in their Oasis, with their blanket of stars. Because it was the Oasis of Hope. And she was afraid that as soon as she stepped outside of it, the little kernel of hope that was growing inside her would vanish.
She knew why she’d said yes.
She was in love with Zahir.
The realization made her feel like her heart was going to burst from her chest. She’d known that being with Zahir ran the risk of heartbreak. But she hadn’t imagined this. Being in love with a man who would never want or return the emotion.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ZAHIR had slept like hell. Images of Katharine, her body, her scent, the way it had felt to be in her, to have her surrounding him completely … they had plagued him all night long.
And yet it had kept the demons at bay. Unsatisfied sexual frustration was much easier to deal with.
He let the night’s dreams play in his mind again. It was only her.
After their time in the Oasis, he had sent her back to her room for the night. Because she’d been a virgin, and he’d been celibate a little bit too long to trust that he wouldn’t ask too much of her body.
And because he didn’t want her in his bed. Listening to the dreams. Didn’t want to take the chance that, if he were too far out, he might lay his hands on her and cause her harm.
But the dreams hadn’t come.
He didn’t know what that meant.
He stood from behind his desk and stretched his muscles slowly. Bent his knee to make sure it was warmed up. It was always worse after inactivity. And after too much. A tricky balance, but one he had figured out.
He had often thought of his new body as a prison cell. As a place he had been locked in, something foreign, not really him.
It hit him then how untrue it was. He didn’t like being limited. He didn’t like looking like a monster, having one eye he could barely see out of. He hated the limp. He hated the flashbacks most of all, though they seemed manageable.
But it was his body.
The moment he had entered Katharine, the moment he had felt the intense wash of pleasure cover him, unlike anything he had ever known, in his life before the attack, and most especially after, he had known. It was his body. Not a place his soul had been locked inside of. Not a prison sentence.
That meant that he never would be released of it. He would never be free. It also meant he had to stop waiting around like he would be someday.
The soft knock at his office door didn’t belong to Katharine. He was certain of that. Though, just the thought of her made his stomach clench tight, made his blood rush south.
Rafiq, his chief aide, the man he sent to do most public appearances in his stead, came to him, a broad smile on his face. “Glad to hear the wedding went well. Sorry I couldn’t make it.”
“It’s fine. The birth of your son was more important.” Zahir let himself wonder for a moment what it might be like to have children of his own. He had taken it for granted when he’d been younger. Something he would get to someday.
Now …
If he had a baby, it would be scared to look at him. And he wouldn’t know what to do with it.
“The people want to see you and your new wife.”
“They’ve been blessedly free of the sight of me for the past five years.” His recent drives into the marketplace being the exception. “I doubt they would want it to change now. You know what they say. What they think.”
“But they do want to see you. You were in the magazines all over Europe. A royal wedding. The Sheikh and his princess.”
“The Beast and his lady? I’ve seen the headlines. Oddly I’ve found that if, given the choice between having my scars mocked or romanticized, I would choose being mocked.”
“Only you, my friend.”
“What are you suggesting I do, Rafiq?”
“You and Princess Katharine need to make a public appearance. A wedding celebration would be ideal. It would make your people feel involved.”
“I didn’t intend for them to feel uninvolved.”
“But they do.”
“But that is … “
“Oh!” The sound of shock came from Katharine, who was standing in the doorway looking back and forth between Zahir and Rafiq. “I didn’t realize you were busy.”
“You mean to say you didn’t realize anyone dared breach the inner sanctum? I’m Rafiq, his advisor. Though, I’ve been gone, as my wife was due to give birth. Sorry we didn’t have the pleasure of meeting.”
Katharine nodded stiffly. “Nice to meet you.”
Rafiq stood, flashed a dazzling smile at Katharine. Even though Zahir knew that Rafiq wouldn’t even look at a woman who wasn’t his wife, his gut still churned. Rafiq had always been handsome—at least women had always said so. He wondered if Katharine agreed with that assessment.
“I’m trying to convince your husband to stage a wedding celebration for the people of Hajar. Photos of the wedding are all over European news outlets and the people here, I think, feel preference has been shown.�
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Katharine looked at him, her eyes round. “We can’t have them thinking that.”
Zahir tightened his hand into a fist. “Oh, no, but do we want them thinking their ruler is a lunatic?”
“You did fine at the wedding,” she said.
Rafiq looked at him. “Granted, I haven’t been around through all of this. I’m just telling you what I’ve heard tell of.”
For so long, his people hadn’t wanted to see him. They had been content to weave a legend around him. Speculate as to whether or not he really still lived, although that fact was easily proven.
Now, though, he felt there was no way to turn his back on the request. Changes had to be made, some already had been. But this would test him. It would test him unlike anything else he’d ever endured since the attack.
But he would do it. He was no longer serving a jail sentence in his own body.
“When shall we plan it for?” he asked.
Katharine looked at Rafiq, then back at him. “I think we could get something together by next weekend if we worked quickly.”
“Wonderful,” Rafiq said. “We’ll plan to have it in the square.”
Zahir swallowed hard. The square. The common area of the capital city. Where celebrations were held, where the attack on the royal family had occurred.
But he was done living with fear. He had conquered the wedding. He had made love to Katharine as a man should be able to make love to his wife. He did not fear his own mind, his own body, as much as he had a month ago.
“Then let’s start planning.”
Katharine’s duties in regards to the wedding celebration seemed to consist of little else beyond menu planning and approving designs sent over by Kevin. He was all about transforming her into a hip, modernized version of what he seemed to think a sheikha might look like.
The designs were lovely and it had been hard to pick. And the food that she’d been asked to approve was lovely, too. She smiled when she saw Zahir’s favorites and hers. She wondered if it was the chef that had remembered, from the night she’d prepared the meal, or if Zahir was the one who had ordered it.
She sighed heavily. Zahir didn’t seem to remember she was alive. Or at least that they’d made love. He’d made no move to touch her since they’d been together. She was starting to take it personally. Actually, she’d taken it personally the moment he had walked her to her bedroom and then turned away from her, heading to his own. It was so far from her romantic ideal it was ridiculous.
