His Defiant Desert Queen(67)

                His gaze met hers and held. His dark eyes burned into her. She felt her pulse quicken, and butterflies flit wildly in her middle, her body humming with awareness.

                Mikael would be a protective husband. He would probably be generous to a fault. He’d already showered her with gifts and trinkets, and was good at paying her compliments.

                She wondered what marriage to him would be like. Not the honeymoon part, but the ever after part.

                What kind of husband would he be?

                Would he have expectations for his wife’s behavior? Rules for the relationship? What would he not permit, or tolerate?

                Mikael’s eyes met hers, and held. “You have something on your mind.”

                “You can read me too easily. Have you always been so attentive to women?”

                “No. Never.” He leaned over and refilled her goblet. “I’m usually accused of being insensitive and self-absorbed.”

                “Are you different with me?”

                “It would seem so.”

                “Because I am your wife?”

                “Because I can’t help but pay you attention. You command it.”

                “I command it. Interesting.”

                “You are a queen now. You are in a position of significance.”

                “Careful. The power might go to my head.” But she was laughing as she said it, and from his lazy smile, she knew he was amused. “Do you enjoy your power?”

                He thought about the question for a moment and then nodded. “Sheikhs are allowed to be as demanding as they like. It is the benefit of being royal. But power carries responsibility to provide for one’s family, and people, and protect them as well. This is where my father failed. This is where I cannot fail.”

                “I do not think you will. You have the right mindset. You are focused on the right goals.”

                “I am less focused now that you are here,” he admitted. “With you here I find I only want to think about you.”

                “It is your honeymoon.”

                “Our honeymoon,” he corrected, reaching out to stroke her cheek, and then press his thumb to her lips.

                Heat raced through her, followed by a frisson of sensation that made her breasts tingle and her legs quiver. She felt so aware of him and the awareness was a bittersweet tension, her body humming in response. She ached inside, at the place where her thighs joined, and she hated wanting...needing...

                Jemma squeezed her thighs together, denying the need, and struggling to ignore the way her skin tingled, sending fresh darts of sensation from her breasts to her belly.

                His gaze met hers and held, and he couldn’t know what she was thinking or feeling, but she blushed anyway, heat racing through her, making her hot and cold.

                She was attracted to him. She was responding to him. It crossed her mind that she just might be in over her head.

                “Yes, laeela?” he asked, reclining against the cushions. “What are you thinking?”

                She shouldn’t have agreed to this. She shouldn’t have played this game. It was a game she could lose. “You...your government,” she stuttered, thinking she could never admit that sex was on her brain. Sex, seduction, sensual lovemaking...no, better to keep the conversation away from the personal.