His Defiant Desert Queen(44)
“Looking for me?” Mikael’s deep voice sounded behind her.
Jemma turned, blushing as she spotted Mikael in nothing but a snug white towel wrapped securely around his waist, revealing broad shoulders and muscular torso.
“Yes,” she said, forcing her gaze from his impressive body up to his face. His black hair was damp, and glossy, his jaw freshly shaven. His gaze met hers and held.
Handsome, she thought, dazzled by the play of golden light over his bronze features. He was too handsome for his own good. No wonder he was arrogant.
“What can I do for you?” Mikael asked as his valet disappeared.
“We need to talk.”
“And I thought you’d come to thank me for my gifts,” he answered, smiling faintly.
“They are...lovely,” she said hesitantly. “So yes, thank you. But—”
“But you want something else?” he interrupted.
She flushed. “Yes. You could say that.”
His eyes, fringed by those endless lashes, narrowed. His gaze swept over her and even from across the courtyard she felt the heat in his eyes, felt the possession.
“What is it?” he asked.
Jemma grew hot. Her pulse quickened. She’d walked quickly the entire way from her room but it didn’t explain this new heat in her veins. This was his fault. When he looked at her, he made her head light, made her feel ridiculously dizzy and weak. “I want something that isn’t a physical gift.”
“You don’t care for jewels and clothes?”
“They’re fine, but not my favorite gifts.”
“I thought every woman loved jewelry and exquisite clothes.”
“I am sorry to disappoint you.”
He circled her slowly. “You don’t disappoint me. You intrigue me. I’m intrigued right now. What it is that you want so badly you’d race to my room just an hour before we are to disappear into the Chamber of Innocence?”
Mikael watched color sweep Jemma’s cheeks. She was beautiful in the pink kimono robe, and she sounded breathless and all he could think of was peeling the thin fabric from her shoulders and kissing the pale skin at her collarbone.
She had a beautiful body. He wanted her body. He wanted her.
“Would you care to sit?” he asked her.
“No. I think I’m better standing.”
“Does what you need to say require courage?” he asked, wondering if she knew how beautiful she was. He doubted it. She was surprisingly modest. She had no airs or attitude. Someone in her family had done a good job raising her.
“It depends on how you’ll take it,” she answered.
“Then perhaps let’s not talk now. Tonight is special. Tonight is about pleasure.”
“Tonight cannot happen without us speaking, Your Highness.”
He sighed, an exaggerated sigh. The sigh was purely for show. He was playing with her, enjoying her fire. “Laeela, I confess I’m not pleased with the direction our relationship is taking. We do a lot of talking. Or more accurately, you do a lot of talking, and I seem to be doing a great deal of listening.”