are the only one who can assuage it.’ His hands cupped her face, his palms sliding over her silken skin. He could never get enough of her. She tilted her face up to gaze at him, everything about her open and trusting. When he told her he intended to keep her as his Queen no matter what, pregnancy or no, she would give no objections. Of that he was certain.
Zayed lowered his head and brushed his lips against Olivia’s. She tasted cool and sweet and so very lovely. He deepened the kiss, loving the feel of her softness against the hard planes of his chest and thighs.
‘Zayed,’ she murmured against his mouth, a protest. He stilled, surprised. Surely she would not deny him now? She wanted this as much as he did—even more. ‘Someone will come in.’ She gestured to the table strewn with dirty dishes. ‘To clear up.’
‘Not while I’m in here,’ Zayed answered confidently, and started drawing her towards him again, aching to feel her mouth once more.
Olivia shook her head. ‘They’ll be waiting until you leave. And they’ll be tired, having served us all night. Let’s not make them wait any longer.’
‘You are thinking of my staff?’
Olivia’s eyes flashed. ‘Having worked in a royal household for four years, I have some sympathy.’
‘Of course.’ With a smile he reached for her hand. ‘You are talking sense, especially as I would much rather make love to you on a bed. My bed.’
Her cheeks went pink. ‘Do you really think this is a—’
‘I don’t think.’ Zayed cut her off before she could verbalise any concerns. ‘I know. I want you, Olivia, and you want me. It’s that simple.’
‘Yes, but...’ Shadows crept into her stormy eyes. ‘What about...?’
‘Shh.’ He silenced her with a kiss. ‘Tonight is for us. Only for us.’ And, as she kissed him back, he knew he had her acquiescence. Her surrender.
Silently, holding her hand, he led her to his bedroom. The corridors were dark and shadowy, the mood singing with expectation. Her hand felt small and fragile in his.
Back in his bedroom his bed had been turned down by one his staff, the lamps turned to low, the perfect setting for seduction. Except this wasn’t even a seduction; this was both of them wanting each other. Revelling in each other.
As soon as the door closed behind them Zayed turned to Olivia and she came willingly; their bodies clashed, their mouths tangled and his blood and heart both sang. He backed her towards the bed and she tripped on her dress; the fragile material tore but Zayed didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but the woman in his arms.
A single tug of the zip and the torn garment slithered off her, leaving her in nothing but a sheer bra and pants. She shivered slightly and Zayed realised she was nervous. The last time they’d been together, it had been rushed and urgent, and the time before that it had been a consummation, a matter of expediency. Tonight felt different for both of them.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said softly as he smoothed his hand from her shoulder to her hip. ‘Utterly beautiful.’
Relief flashed across her face and then, with an impish smile, she reached for the studs on his shirt. Her fingers trembled slightly as she undid the first one but then, emboldened by the throaty growl he couldn’t help but give, she undid the others, the studs clattering to the ground, then pushed his shirt aside before resting her palms flat on his chest.
‘You’re beautiful too,’ she said softly, and the blood roared through Zayed’s veins. This woman enflamed him. He pulled her to him, wanting to be slow and deliberate but craving her too much, even now. Especially now.
They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, hands and mouth reaching for whatever bit of skin they could access. He skimmed his hand along her inner thigh and she bucked, her response overwhelming.
Zayed reached for a condom from his bedside table. This time he would be careful. Within moments he’d buried himself inside her and, as Olivia met him thrust for thrust, he forgot about everything...everything but her.
‘HERE YOU ARE.’
Olivia took the slim rectangular box and tried not to gulp as she stared down at the lettering on its front. Zayed met her uncertain gaze evenly, his face completely bland, grey-green eyes shuttered. She’d spent all last night lost in his arms, seeking and finding pleasure after pleasure and joy after joy, but right now she had no idea what he was thinking or feeling, and she lacked the courage to ask him. A depressing thought, considering how wonderfully intimate last night had been—far more than the last two occasions they had come together.
Even now, with Zayed standing so fathomlessly in front of her, Olivia remembered how tenderly he’d held her, the Arabic endearments he’d murmured in her ear, the way he’d touched her, so reverently, as if she were a cherished treasure...and that was how she’d felt. She’d slept in his arms all night and woken in the morning with the biggest smile on her face and in her heart.
This moment was another proposition entirely.
‘Should I...?’ She glanced down at the rather lurid pink and blue writing on the side of the box. ‘Should I take it now?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Zayed’s voice was as bland as his face, yet in both she detected an intensity that alarmed her. Was he dreading the possibility of her being pregnant that much? If she was pregnant, would he feel trapped, tied to her in a way he might hate?
‘Right.’ Her numb fingers closed around the box. ‘Well, then...’
He nodded towards the en-suite bathroom. ‘I’ll wait here.’
Wordlessly Olivia nodded, then she turned and made for the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a final-sounding click. She laid the box on the edge of the sink, willing her heart rate to slow and her nerves to steady. She was so nervous, and she had a terrible feeling it was because she was scared she wasn’t pregnant. That she’d be sent away. Or was she worried that she was pregnant and would be made to stay? The trouble was, Olivia didn’t know which she felt. Everything was a churning, mixed-up jumble inside her, and Zayed’s inscrutable face and tone weren’t helping.
Still, there was no point analysing her emotions until she knew the truth of the matter. Taking a deep breath, Olivia opened the box.
Three minutes later she turned over the test she’d taken to read the results, her nerves and hand both surprisingly steady. Three minutes had been an agony to wait, but now that the time had come she felt calmer because she knew she wanted to know, needed to know, for her own sake, her own sanity. She couldn’t take any more limbo. Even so, the single line, stark and vivid, felt like a smack in the face, a fist to the gut.
One line. Not pregnant.
Olivia sank down onto the edge of the sunken tub, her heart plummeting like a stone. Disappointment. That was what she felt now—like a tidal wave crashing over her and pulling her under. Total, sick disappointment. Tears stung her eyes and, impatient with herself, she blinked them away. This was a good thing. It had to be.
If
