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“Your wedding night awaits.” He stepped back. “Come.”
Her heart hammering, she followed him into the candlelit room, but jerked when he reached behind her, and then blushed at her jumpiness.
“Be at peace. I am only closing the access to the corridor.”
“Can just anyone come in through it?” she asked, another worry finding its place in her maelstrom of emotions.
“Only the family knows of its existence, and a select few of our security detail, those whose families have served the royal house for generations.”
“But still.” What if his brother, or father, or something, decided to make a late night visit?
“I have locked it from this side. The lever on the other side of the wall will not move.”
Relief washed over her. “Amir and Grace were in the corridor.”
Zahir’s entire body tensed. “Did they see you?”
“No.”
He nodded, relaxing a little. “It would not have been a total tragedy, but I would prefer you not to be made the object of speculation.”
She begged to differ. If she’d been seen, dressed as she was, it would have been both humiliating and a huge and total tragedy. Nothing would stop her uncle from forcing the marriage if she were caught in such a circumstance.
Thank goodness, only the royal family of Zohra knew of the passages. And her.
“How did you know I was in the corridor? Is there some kind of alarm?”
Zahir merely shrugged, but there was an odd expression in his eyes, the soft light of the candles giving his angular cheeks a burnished glow that almost looked like a blush.
He reached out and cupped her cheek. “You look beautiful.”
“You didn’t like my dress earlier?”
“You know I did.”
“Do I?”
“Oh, yes.” His hand slipped around her head and settled against her nape. He used the hold to gently tug her forward until their bodies were a mere breath apart. “You are a minx. How did I not realize this before?”
“Minx is such an old-fashioned word.”
“I am an old-fashioned guy.”
“You think?”
“In some ways, I am very traditional.”
Then, before she could answer, he lowered his head and she finally got the kiss she’d always wanted.
And it was every bit as tender and romantic as she could ever have hoped. Letting out a little sigh of pleasure, she let her lips part slightly.
Zahir’s tongue swept inside, claiming her mouth with unhesitating, if gentle, demand. Her arms moved of their own volition, her hands clasping behind his neck as she melted into him. His big body shuddered at the full-on contact and she could feel the evidence of a tightly leashed desire pressing impressively against her stomach.
The evidence that he did indeed want her made her bold and she tangled her tongue with his, responding to his kiss with an abandon she’d never known she was capable of.
She’d spent so many years repressing her sexual desires, they rushed through her now with the power of a California wildfire.
She moaned, moving against him, needing more than the kiss, but too involved in it to do anything about that.
