Triumph and desire flared white-hot through Zayed as Halina parted her lips. She really was the most beguiling creature, seemingly without artifice...and perhaps she truly was. Perhaps he should take her at face value, although heaven knew that was not something he did, ever. He trusted no one, not even those closest to him. He could not afford to. But his bride’s innocence seemed total, her wide blue eyes utterly without guile, every reaction refreshingly honest, even a little gauche. She hid nothing. Perhaps he could at least trust that.
Letting his gaze linger on hers, letting her see the heat and need in it, he slid the grape into her mouth, brushing her full lower lip with his thumb. Halina gave a soft little gasp as she jerked back, her lips closing over the grape, her eyes heartbreakingly wide, reflecting every emotion as sensations chased through her—the taste of the grape, the touch of his fingers.
‘Delicious,’ Zayed said, his voice caressing the syllables, his gaze still on her. Her dark hair tumbled in silken waves about her shoulders, sooty lashes sweeping down to hide those stormy eyes. Where her tunic top gaped he could see the shadowy curves of her breasts and hips and it made him ache. She was utterly delectable, and he found he couldn’t wait to taste her.
And wait he would not... With every minute that passed, Zayed knew Sultan Hassan could be coming closer, sending out soldiers to rescue his daughter. Zayed needed their marriage to be unimpeachable by then. He needed it to be consummated. And, judging from Halina’s trembling reactions, she was not averse. Shy, perhaps, and undoubtedly innocent, but most certainly not averse.
She swallowed the grape with a gulp, lashes lifting as she gazed at him in obvious confusion. ‘Why are you doing this?’
Zayed leaned forward again. ‘Because I find you so very desirable, hayete.’ The endearment came naturally—she was his life, the key to all his ambitions, all his desires. And, while his body stirred and strained with sexual need, that was what he had to remember. This marriage was essential to retrieving his throne. His inheritance. His life.
‘But...’ Her tongue darted out to moisten those full, lush lips. Zayed nearly groaned at the artless gesture that had lust arrowing through him. ‘But you don’t even know me.’
‘I know enough. And this was always going to happen, hayete, was it not? It was decreed long before now. It was written in the stars.’ Flowery language for what had been a businesslike betrothal when they had been both so young, but it was a means to an end. His bride’s eyes widened and she seemed startled, and then shyly pleased. The words worked.
‘Was it?’ She shook her head to clear it. ‘Was that why you kidnapped me?’
‘But of course.’ He had taken her out of desire, but of a different kind. ‘Come,’ Zayed said and, standing, he reached for her hand and drew her towards him, letting his fingers slide along and then twine with hers.
Her whole body trembled as she stood before him, her head lowered, her lashes fanning her cheeks. ‘What...?’ Her voice was no more than a thread of sound. ‘What do you want with me?’
‘I want to make love to you.’ Zayed rested his hands on her shoulders, felt how impossibly slender she was, how fragile. ‘Slowly and sweetly.’ He bent his head to brush a kiss against her temple; her skin was soft and cool. ‘Is that what you want?’ His lips moved lower to press a kiss to the side of her neck. A shudder went through her body.
‘I...I don’t... I haven’t...’ In her nervousness she stuttered, and Zayed laughed softly, kissing the nape of her neck, letting his mouth linger. She smelled of lemons.
‘Hayete, I know.’
‘But...but...surely you didn’t bring me here for this?’ A soft moan escaped her as he placed one hand on her waist, fingers splaying to brush her hip and the underside of her breast. Her reaction to him was so complete and overwhelming it made the need arrow even more strongly inside him.
‘What if I did?’ he murmured, stroking the side of her breast with knowing fingers. He needed to go slowly, of course, but it was hard. Harder than he’d expected. His body was demanding to be sated, his thirst slaked. And his bride was so very willing in his arms, trembling as she was, her gaze wide and wondering as she tilted her head to gaze up at him.
‘You did...’
Was she painting some romantic picture of him as a white knight coming to steal her away because he couldn’t resist her? The prospect was laughable, yet so what if she believed it? If it helped in the moment, then so be it. He did desire her. Immensely. And that was enough.
‘I did,’ he assured her, and then he captured her mouth in a kiss.
IT WAS A kiss that stole her breath as well as a little bit of her soul. It was the first kiss Olivia had ever had, and she swayed beneath it as the man’s mouth moved persuasively over hers.
Her body was awash with sensation, her mind dazed and reeling. She’d never expected this to happen. She’d never expected to feel this way. She was being seduced, ruthlessly and thoroughly, and she couldn’t even resist. She didn’t want to. The pleasure coursing through her in a hot, honeyed river was too strong for that.
The inner protestations that this man was a danger, her enemy, her abductor, fell utterly silent. She no longer cared. Even if this was merely a night and the man, stranger that he was, used her and then tossed her aside afterwards, Olivia knew she could not turn away from this. Not when she’d finally woken up, after a lifetime of sleeping. Not when every sense and nerve was tuned exquisitely, acutely. She felt. She felt so many wonderful things.
Tentatively, learning the steps of this new and intricate dance, she reached up to grip his shoulders, her fingertips grazing his skull. She pressed her body against his, thrilling to the feel of his hard, muscled chest and powerful thighs. And more than that...even in her innocence she recognised the insistent throb of his arousal against her stomach. She’d seen enough films, read enough romance novels, to recognise it and she thrilled to it, to him, all the more.
A groan escaped him as he tore his mouth from hers and took a step back from her. His expression was nearly as befuddled as her own, Olivia thought. They were both breathing heavily, staring at each other in dazed desire, the very air between them seeming to shimmer.
‘Come to bed,’ he said, and reached for her hand.
For a second Olivia hesitated. Here was the moment of clarity, of choice. Was she really willing to give up her virginity to a stranger? Would she do this, the most intimate and sacred of acts, with a man whose name she did not even know, who had kidnapped her, who had to be merely using her, no matter what flowery language he used? And yet he wanted her. That was no lie, no trick. He wanted her...and she loved the feeling of being wanted.
His fingers found hers and he tugged gently, a smile curving that mobile mouth. ‘Do not be afraid, hayete. Remember when I said I would never hurt you. That is, and always will be, my solemn vow.’
He spoke as if he knew her, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for her. Olivia knew he couldn’t have been. It was just words, sentiment, yet she believed him in this at least: he wouldn’t hurt her. She wouldn’t let herself get hurt. A night and no more. How many women had made the same bargain, the same promise? There need be no regrets. She didn’t care who he was. All that mattered
