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Yasmine snuck a peak at her new husband, Sheikh Jamal, made suddenly breathless by the power he emanated, her nerves fluttering with anticipation. He’d clasped her hand, the one with the priceless engagement ring and now its matching wedding ring on her finger, and led her down one of the many wide corridors of his palace toward his bedroom suite.
The palace corridors and the few rooms she’d peeked into that had been open were impeccable, with not even a dust mote daring to hang in the air. That was despite the fact somewhere in the palace some kind of construction was going on, with the grinding and hammering of building tools reaching her ears.
“I’ve commissioned someone to build a ballroom,” he explained with a wry smile.
“Really?” So he could dance as well as run a country and keep its people wealthy and happy? It seemed unfair for one man to have so many talents. “I can’t wait to see it.”
He chuckled. “And I’m looking forward to sweeping you around on its floor.”
That it’d happen sooner rather than later wasn’t lost on her. It seemed impossible to believe what had already transpired in such a short time. It’d been three days since her father had caught her in bed with Jamal. Two days later Jamal had presented her with an exquisite diamond engagement ring before they’d made their official announcement in her homeland of Amack, where a whirlwind of celebrations was condensed into one day.
This morning she and Jamal, along with her family and friends, had flown to Jamal’s country, where she’d exchanged vows with him.
She was now the Sheikha of Ishmat. And though she was exhausted and a little bit frightened, she was also exhilarated at what lay ahead. Her future was a whole lot brighter now she was no longer suffocated by bleak thoughts of marrying a despot.
That she hid another, entirely different secret, one that involved sneaking a daily birth control pill, was yet another deception she’d gladly learn to live with. She’d have children when she was ready and not beforehand. She was only lucky her doctor was forward thinking and hadn’t felt the need to confer with Jamal.
My body. My choice.
“This way,” Jamal murmured, drawing her past an open room that featured mosaic tiles, a lap pool with water cascading at one end, and seating areas half-hidden by big urns with lacy green plants.
He swung open a door then bent and lifted her against his chest. “Allow me to carry my wife across the threshold.”
She giggled even as she noted the flex and shift of his muscles, the effortless way he carried her. There really was something compelling about his strength. He didn’t get this strong by being idle and getting everyone else to do his work for him. Add in his scent of sandalwood and warm cinnamon and she was all but drooling.
He kicked the door shut behind him and she blinked up at his suddenly serious face. “No regrets?”
He gazed down at her, his long lashes half-concealing his thoughts. “I don’t make it habit to have regrets. Once my mind is made up nothing can make me change it.” He thumbed a piece of her blonde hair back under her delicate, flower-embroidered hijab with attached veil. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
She swallowed hard at his words, torn between joyous relief and a shiver of premonition she couldn’t quite shake off. She ignored it anyway and said softly, “And I’ll do everything I can to make you happy in return.”
It was an indelible moment. They might not love one another—they were barely more than strangers—but he’d taken his vows as seriously as she had and his latest words confirmed that.
That she was wildly attracted to him was just the icing on the cake. From his designer facial stubble and styled dark hair, his brilliant dark eyes that appeared to decipher absolutely everything, to his broad shoulders and narrow waist, his strong thighs and impressive cock, he was her perfect husband.
The moment he bent and captured her mouth with his own, she was lost to him. Winding her arms behind his neck, she kissed him in return, her body past ready for him to take her all the way and show her exactly how good sex should be.
He drew back and his eyes glinted down at her. “Not so fast, angel. You were a virgin our first time together. I want to slow it down and make sure you’re ready for me this time.”
“Ready for you?” she repeated weakly.
His smile broadened. “You really are an innocent aren’t you? It must have taken everything you had to deceive me into thinking you were a harem girl.”
Guilt hollowed out her stomach. But he didn’t look angry. Perhaps he was good at hiding his emotions and had something vengeful planned for her?
“No need to look so anxious,” he added with a faint frown. “I’ll take good care of you.”
She managed to push back uncertainty as he lifted his hands to take off her hijab, unpinning her hair then with meticulous care. He groaned as her blonde tresses spilled free, his jaw tight as he then unbuttoned the back of her gauzy wedding dress with its diamond inserts.
The gown slipped free and he drank in her bared body covered in nothing more than tiny slips of silk, cream underwear. “So beautiful,” he said reverently.
She stood uncertainly as he unbuttoned his tailored suit jacket, then started on his white dress shirt.
“Allow me,” she said with a little tremor in her voice.
He nodded and she undid the last three buttons of his shirt, exposing the golden skin of his torso, the ridged muscles of his flat stomach. She swallowed as she pushed his jacket over his shoulders, followed by his shirt.
She’d like to pretend she’d forgotten about his sheer masculine perfection, but she’d be lying. She’d memorized every part of him, even the light dusting of hair that started from his navel and disappeared beneath the waistband of his black pants.
