Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Okay, this was a setback. But she could deal with it. She would deal with it. There was no other choice.
“I do know what you mean, Emily. But I like teasing you.” She glanced at him and saw he’d tilted his head to watch her. “Your skin is the most interesting shade of pink right now.”
Emily wanted to drag the covers over her head. “It’s the sunlight coming into the room. And all this gold on the ceiling.”
It was a lousy excuse, but hey, she wasn’t going to admit she was thinking about him naked—about her wrapped around him naked—was she? Nooooo, not happening.
“Of course it is,” Kadir said. He laughed softly as he went into the bathroom. Naturally, he did not close the door and she could hear the water falling against the tiles as he started the shower. She imagined Kadir sliding those briefs down his thighs and stepping under the spray.
Her sex throbbed with heat and need and she closed her eyes, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths. It was only the second day of their sham marriage.
And already her purpose grew muddled and her will teetered on shaky ground.
* * *
Emily showered and dressed in the least sexy dress she could find in her wardrobe—which, she had to admit, didn’t mean much. This dress had a square neck that didn’t show any cleavage and a swirly skirt that flared out thanks to a tulle underskirt. But it was still formfitting through the bosom and it hugged her curves like Kadir had this morning. Emily forced that thought from her mind as she stood in front of the mirror and surveyed the outfit.
The dress was chic and lovely, a vibrant turquoise, and she paired it with the lowest heels she could find in the closet. They were perhaps four inches high and nude. Not much lower, but somewhat easier to walk in than yesterday’s snakeskin platforms.
“Not quite as sexy as I’d hoped, but still very unsuitable.”
Emily spun to find Kadir in the door to the dressing room. He was dressed in traditional robes—a dishdasha—and the dark kaffiyeh of Kyr. Golden ropes—the igal—held the headdress in place. He looked every inch a sheikh, and so very unlike the boss she was accustomed to. There was something almost primitive about him now, though she chided herself for thinking so. Clothing did not change a man. This was his culture, not a costume donned for effect.
And yet it was having an effect on her.
She smoothed her fingers over the silk of her dress. “I like this dress.”
“As do I. You look lovely, though you will certainly elicit disapproval from the old guard for being so vibrantly female.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “You said some people would not approve of me. I hope you aren’t setting me up for a huge breach of decorum so that every single person in Kyr will despise me.”
He frowned. “I would do no such thing, Emily. You are still my wife. Your unsuitability rests primarily on your not being Kyrian. But yes, there will be those who are shocked by your clothing, your passion for me and your bright inner fire. They are the ones who will not approve.” He came toward her then, and she realized he was holding a velvet box in his hand. “You are missing some things,” he told her as he opened the box and set it on the table beside her.
Emily gasped at the sparkling diamonds nestled against the black velvet. Her gaze lifted to Kadir’s. “I can’t wear those.”