Craving Beauty(30)

"So do I, cher. So do I." He'd never felt this carefree in his life.   Flipping open the lid, he held the bottle upside down and started to   draw meandering swirls of honey over her breasts, her stomach, lower.



She sighed when he put down the bottle and started to lick his way down   her body, swirling his tongue, using his teeth to scrape, his fingers  to  smooth. Minutes later she began to tremble. He stroked his hands on  her  thighs as he bent over to lick her stomach. Her beautiful feminine   muscles clenched under his attentions. He kept going, pulling her  bottom  closer to the edge to facilitate his taste of honey.



Her hands clenched in his hair as he tracked the last possible drop,   lapping at her most sensitive flesh. Moans filled the kitchen as his   wife climaxed, surrendering to the pleasure he lavished on her.   Satisfied by her shudders, he rose and picked her up in his arms. Her   legs wrapped around his waist.



"Where are you taking me, husband?"



"Do you care?"



"No. You may take me wherever you wish,"



He narrowed his eyes at that double entendre, unsure whether it was just   her grasp of English or deliberate provocation until he caught the  hint  of mischief in those tawny depths. "I'll remember that the next  time I  see you bent over the kitchen table."



Her laughter filled the night. When he sat down in a chair, with her   spread over him, she slid her hand between their bodies and down. "Why   is it that you are always clothed when I'm naked?"



"Bad timing?" He groaned as she slipped her hand under the elastic   waistband of his briefs. Stroking him gently, she chuckled at his   response.



A man could only take so much. Barely ten seconds later, he'd kicked off   his only item of clothing and got himself covered in a much more   pleasurable fashion. She slid onto him like hot silk. And then she rode   him.





Given their newfound joy in each other, the plane trip to Zulheil the   next day was markedly different from their first flight together. Marc   had brought along papers to look over but didn't even take them out of   his briefcase, too enchanted by his wife.



More at ease on this flight, she teased him to laughter and tangled her   fingers with his, her eyes holding a look of pride. "You're a most   magnificent man," she whispered, halfway through the flight.



He could feel a blush creeping up the back of his neck. "What brought that on?"



She winked at him and pressed a spontaneous kiss to his cheek. "Can a   wife not simply compliment her husband?" Putting her head on his   shoulder, she settled against him, warm and...loving?



He didn't dare think that he might've found his dreams, but he could   almost imagine that he was seeing the real woman, with none of her   customary masks.



Only one thing gave him pause-the way she still occasionally looked at   him after a particularly saucy comment, as if anticipating a rebuke.



He knew that her reaction was rooted in the emotional abuse she'd   witnessed in her home, scenes of a wife being humiliated by the very man   who should've been her champion. He hated it, but he could forgive her   that instinctive reaction: Yet so long as that look was in her eyes,  he  couldn't expect her full commitment to him as a man, as a husband.   Before she took that chance, she'd have to accept that he'd die before   turning into a man like her father. Unfortunately, there was nothing he   could do to help her reach that point. In this shatteringly important   moment, he was helpless.





"Have you ever been inside the royal palace?" Marc asked Hira on their   second night in Zulheil, fiddling with his bow tie and hoping die   evening would be cool.



She moved to him and took over the job. "Yes, of course. The royal   palace is open to its citizens, aside from the private wings for the   family. But you're one of the very few foreigners who has been allowed   access."



He was aware of the privilege and the duty it carried. Trust in this   desert land was given slowly but would hold fast unless he abused it.   "Impressive, isn't it?" His eyes followed Hira as she moved away to pull   on a top coat of the finest gossamer silk.



The sheer fabric was an almost metallic silver and was gathered under   her breasts with a single tie. The rest of the coat fell to float just   above the floor, splitting open over her legs to display an underskirt   of thick silver satin. The long-sleeved silver top she wore underneath   the gauze overlapped the top of the skirt and was heavily embroidered   with tiny white pearls. The material seemed shot with shards of pure   crystal.                       
       
           



       



"I may be a mere male but I like what I see." Marc was looking at her appreciatively when she turned.

In Hira's eyes, he was the gorgeous one, big, dark and very masculine. "It's a Jasmine Zamanat creation."



His eyes sharpened as he recognized the name of the sheik's wife, a   well-known designer. "Clever little witch. Getting us brownie points   with the palace, are you?"



She was pleased by the compliment in his eyes. "It will not hurt, though   they won't be so easily swayed. But I truly like her designs so it's  no  hardship."



"You're definitely easy on the eyes. Let's go, princess. The drive from   Abraz to Zulheina will take a while. Wouldn't want to be late for this   meeting."



Though informal, the meeting with the sheik was important. If things   went favorably, Marc would be allowed to sign an agreement with Zulheil   to export a durable, flexible plastic discovered by its scientists.



"And aside from its other advantages," Marc said as they got out of   their limo in front of the palace, after having been cleared by   security, "it crunches down into small packages. So it's very portable   and can be used for tents, et cetera."



"Which means it can have military applications as well as many other uses." Hira nodded. "Why hasn't it already been exported?"



"It hasn't been a priority for Zulheil with their gem-stone business   bringing in so much income. But the rest of the world could do with it."



Just then, a beautiful redhead dressed in a lovely sky-blue top and   skirt in the way of Zulheil, walked through the palace doorway.   "Welcome." She smiled and held out her hands to Hira. "I'm so   delighted-you could finally make it. I hear that you had to reschedule   because of the welfare of a child."



"Jasmine al eha Sheik, it is an honor," Hira began, a little overcome at   the easy welcome from the most powerful woman in the country, though  it  was well known mat neither the sheik nor his wife stood much on pomp   and ceremony.



Jasmine waved a hand. "Call me Jasmine. Ah.. .here he is." Letting go of   Hira's hands, she looked over her shoulder at the man who'd appeared   beside her. Her eyes held such deep and abiding love that the warmth of   it was an almost physical touch.



Hira noticed the way Sheik Tariq's hand immediately settled on his   wife's hip, the way the two shared a secret smile before he spoke.



"Dinner is served and the demon who is pretending to be our son is fast   asleep. Welcome to our home." He shook Marc's hand and turned to lead   them inside.



Almost immediately the men fell back behind the women, already beginning   to talk business. Hira was a little irritated at being disregarded so   easily.



"You're annoyed," said the woman by her side.



Hira glanced at Jasmine. "Lady..."



"Call me Jasmine and don't worry about it. He annoys me on occasion, too." Her smile was open.



Hira decided to be honest. "I don't like being sidelined when serious matters are being discussed."



"Neither do I. That's why we'll be talking about a different idea that I've cooked up with Tariq."



Hira's eyes widened. "Another proposal?"



"As you know, Zulheil likes to keep to itself. When we find someone we   like, we try and squeeze our worth out of them. Tariq trusts your   husband's integrity and acumen."



"And what about me?" She wasn't going to be ignored.



"Until this evening, though we've had dealings with Marc, you were an   unknown commodity. Tariq knows you socially but I've only seen you   once."



"I remember. In the gardens after your marriage." Aware that Jasmine   must've been informed of the Daz-irah family's attempts to make a match   between her and the sheik, Hira had known that this lovely woman   wouldn't appreciate her presence. So she'd tried to stay in the   background, despite her parents having urged her to find someone else   with royal connections, since many important visitors had been at the   gathering.