AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Despite her racing heart, she felt herself go still. She told herself it wasn’t the effect of the deep but lyrical lilt to her first name as it fell from his lips, or the low, even way he spoke that finally soothed her, but the need to be set free from the deeply disturbing sensation of the body welded to hers.
No longer fighting, she was keenly aware of the firm strength of his body against hers. The splay of the fingers of his restraining arm branding her hips. Her bare legs dangling against his longer ones. Her back absorbing his unhurried breathing as her bottom snuggled between the widened stance of his hips. And the highly masculine, very proud organ cradled between them.
Heat surging up her body, Esme jerked her head in quick assent. He waited a beat then released her. She launched herself away from him, slapped her hand on the light switch in the bathroom before whirling to face him.
The sight of the Sultan of Ja’ahr, dressed from head to toe in black traditional clothes, every inch the dark desert warrior lord he was, threatened to rob her of the breath she’d just regained. The hand she lifted to push back her heavy hair shook as she glared at him. ‘You may be the ruler of this kingdom, but you have no right to invade my privacy,’ she condemned, a touch too shakily. ‘Not to mention the fact that you scared the living—’
One imperious hand slashed through the air. ‘I understand that you wish to express your outrage. But I highly recommend you do so once we’re away from the hotel.’
‘Why?’ she demanded.
Not bothering to dignify her with a response, he strode to the small wardrobe on the other side of the room. Esme watched, stunned, as he began to rummage through her clothes.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing? If you think I’m going anywhere with you after barging into my room in the middle of the night, think again.’
He turned from the wardrobe, his eyes narrowed in displeased slits. ‘I caution you against using that tone of voice with me or my men will arrest you, with or without my permission.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Your men?’
He jerked a head towards the door. Esme followed his action and for the first time she noticed the men who stood guard, their broad backs to the door but rigidly alert. Protecting their King.
Barring her way.
‘Why are they here? Why are you here?’
He stepped forward and she saw that he held her black cotton dress in his hand. ‘I don’t have time to debate the matter with you. Put this on. We need to leave now, unless you plan on walking out of the hotel dressed in that wispy scrap of nothing?’ he rasped. Although his expression remained stoically impersonal, his voice was a touch more raw than before.
Esme stared down at the peach night slip she wore. The silky, lace-edged material was short, barely coming to mid-thigh. The bodice consisted of two cupped triangles also edged in lace, with thin straps joining at her nape in a halter design. As nightwear went, it was intended to be feminine and sexy, hugging, flattering and titivating where necessary.
Except, with Zaid Al-Ameen’s piercing gaze on her, Esme bypassed those middling sensations and went straight to fiery hot awareness between one heartbeat and the next. Mild shock rippled through her belly at the intensity of the feeling singeing her body as his gaze conducted a slow journey over her. When it rose from her feet to linger at her thighs, a heavy throbbing commenced between her legs. The sensation rippled outward, sparking tiny fireworks that exploded beneath her skin as it spread.
Dark golden eyes rose higher, over her stomach to rest on her breasts. Suddenly sensitive peaks prickled, then slowly tightened into hard nubs. Realising that the silk exhibited every reaction of her body, Esme hastily threw her arm up over her chest, even as she defied the hot flush staining her neck and cheeks to stare challengingly at him.
But she might as well have been a gnat challenging an elephant. The eyes that met hers may have been a touch more turbulent than they were moments ago, perhaps even gleaming with a hint of suppressed hunger, but the man who strode determinedly over to her and thrust her dress at her was once again the supreme marauder intent on having his way.
‘You have two minutes to put this dress on or I will do it for you myself,’ he pronounced succinctly.
Even though she caught the dress, Esme stood her ground. ‘I’ll put the dress on, but I’m not leaving this room until you tell me what is going on.’
At his curt nod, she stepped back into the bathroom and shut the door firmly behind her. About to put the dress on, she froze when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her long loose hair was in complete disarray, her colour high as her chest rose and fell in agitation. But it was the brightness of her eyes that shocked her most of all. Where she’d expected fear, she read something else. Something that made her skin tingle even more wildly. Her nipples were still tight twin points of blatant arousal and belatedly she realised that, standing in the light of the doorway, Sultan Zaid would have been able to see right through her slip.
With renewed chagrin and heightened disquiet, she turned away and tugged the dress over the night slip. There was no way she was going back in there to retrieve her bra so the nightgown would have to offer the extra protection she needed. Besides, she could feel Sultan Zaid’s restless prowling through the bathroom door.
After sliding her fingers through her hair in a vain effort to control the unruly mess, she tugged it into a ponytail and left the bathroom to confront the figure pacing the room. ‘Okay, I deserve to know what’s going on, and I’m not moving until I do.’
‘The chief of police is on his way to arrest you. And unless you come with me, you will be in jail within the hour. It won’t be a pleasant experience.’
Her mouth dropped opened, but the stark words had shrivelled her vocal cords and killed any further protest in her throat. Her gaze swung to the guards standing at the door. They hadn’t moved, but she sensed an escalated urgency in the air.
He’d turned on a lamp while she’d been in the bathroom and Esme hurried across the room to shove her feet into the heels she’d discarded at the bottom of the bed. Then she went to the wardrobe and tugged out her suitcase. It was ripped from her hand a second later.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded.
‘I’m getting my things.’
‘There’s no time for that. Your belongings will be taken care of.’
Again she wanted to protest, but at the implacable look in his eyes she nodded. Her purse held her passport, credit cards and phone. He waited long enough for her to grab it before he marched her to the door.
