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Then his lips slanted across hers in a shockingly possessive kiss. Need fired through her system as his tongue drove into her mouth, demanding entry. Her lips opened for him, instinctively, need throbbing into erogenous zones she’d never realised she had as he feasted on her as if he owned her.
His hands roamed over her naked back where the gown plunged and he tugged her into his body. The solid, unyielding strength of him made her writhe against him, the riot of sensations too fierce, too full.
She heard her own sharp intake of breath as he explored the recesses of her mouth, commanding, devastating, as the pulsing sensation centred at her core. The weight that had tormented her all night became jammed between her thighs, growing to impossible proportions and making the ache painful—even as she kissed him back with equal fervour.
He ripped his mouth away, his large, callused palms rising to grasp her cheeks, to angle her head for better access, then he sunk into her again.
Their tongues tangled in a battle of need and desire, as much argument as acquiescence, each trying to gain the upper hand.
When they were finally forced to part again, to catch their breaths, she could feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing into her belly.
‘Be aware, no matter how good this is, it can only be for tonight,’ he rasped, his hand resting on her cheek as he brushed the curls behind her ear. ‘I cannot commit to more.’
The arrogant jerk.
‘Well, then, it’s good I’m only interested in you for your body, pal,’ she shot back, determined to prove she would never mistake endorphins for love.
Instead of being offended as she had intended, though, he simply laughed, the rumbling chuckle gruff with approval.
‘Yes, it will be very good,’ he replied. Before she could get even more indignant, he scooped her up into his arms and strode into the suite.
He carried her through the living area into the master bedroom. A full moon gave the lavish Moorish furnishings a luminous glow. Her breathing accelerated as he set her down beside the huge king-size bed. With its colourful silk cushions piled high on one end, and the intricate screens that shielded them from the night gilded by moonlight, the setting seemed fanciful and romantic.
She gulped down a ragged breath.
Not romantic. This was a transaction of passion—nothing more, nothing less.
But as he turned her body towards the open terrace doors, then unpicked the jewelled pins from her hair before drawing the heavy mass to one side and kissing her nape, his callused hands almost reverent, her breath got trapped in her lungs.
She could see the gardens below the balcony. Fountains and exotic plants made the space an enchanted oasis—or so she’d dreamed as a child while she’d roamed the palace grounds with her brother William, pretending to be a fairy queen. The dim lights of the old women’s quarters in the distance and the dark windows of her family’s private suites on the opposite terrace, where her two younger brothers were probably asleep, made something hard and scary lodge in her gut. What had happened to those long-ago dreams of finding love and romance she’d once had within these walls—a passion for the ages, like the one her parents shared?
The sudden fear that the step she was taking tonight wasn’t as small or insignificant as she wanted it to be assailed her as Kamal’s lips left her neck and she heard him take off his jacket and dump it on the chair beside her.
You’re not a little girl any more, and you haven’t been for a while. It’s past time to become a woman.
His thumb rubbed against the hammering pulse at her collarbone. ‘Is there a problem?’
She jolted at the gruff and far too perceptive question.
Could he sense her hesitation, her fear? Not of him, but of what this night might mean, even though she didn’t want it to mean anything other than a chance to finally find out what all the fuss was about.
She spun round—to find him watching her with the hunger undimmed in his eyes, an unreadable expression on his face.
He was so close. He’d not only lost the jacket but the bow-tie too and had unbuttoned the confining collar she knew he hated while she had been taking her daft trip down memory lane. His thick hair stuck up in haphazard rows, as if he’d run impatient fingers through it while she’d stood and romanticised this moment like a fool.
A new layer of stubble had grown over his jaw in just a few hours, making him look like a pirate or a bandit. But it was the gleam in his eyes that seemed to yank at her heart and sink deep into her abdomen—compelling, exciting, dangerous.
‘There’s no problem,’ she said, determined to believe it.
This was just a virgin’s jitters.
‘You are sure?’ he said, his voice so low she could barely hear it.
‘Yes, absolutely,’ she replied with a certainty she didn’t feel but was determined to make herself believe.
This was just sex, not a relationship. She didn’t have to care about the fairy tales she’d made up as a little girl in the enchanted garden below them.
And she certainly didn’t have to imagine the man she had envisioned falling in love with one day—a man who would be strong but tender, fiercely intelligent, commanding and determined, but also kind and patient. Because Prince Kamal was not that man, nor would he ever be.
