Pursued by the Desert Prince(11)

One night was not enough.

Sleep, he ordered himself. Sleep and think clearly in the morning.

His eyes wouldn't stay closed, preferring to stare at the decorative  ceiling tiles, textured with shadows in the mellow light slanting like  sunset from the lounge.

He likened his sleeplessness to those few times in his life when a day  had been so perfect, he couldn't make himself go to bed and end it. A  day in the desert with his father as a child, when the king relaxed and  they only concerned themselves with basic needs. Or his last day with  his brother, knowing he would never see him again...

His heart gave a wrenching twist and he tensed, restraining himself from  rolling into Angelique and seeking more than escape into physical  pleasure. Comfort?

No. He refused to be that needy.

She drew a long inhale, disturbed by the tension that kept taking a grip  on him. She repositioned herself, sighed and relaxed, but he could tell  she was awake. He could feel her lashes blinking against his skin.

"I'm thirsty, but I don't want to move," she said in a husk of a voice.

He was starving, but only moved his hand to her head and caressed her scalp through the thick waves of her silky hair.

With a beleaguered sigh, she pulled away and climbed from the bed to go into the bathroom.

Kasim tucked his arm behind his head, listening to the tap run. When she  came out of the bathroom in a robe, he rose onto his elbow.

"Come back to bed," he ordered, voice graveled by sexual excess.

"It's already been a very long dinner," she said wryly. "I don't want to  give the press more fodder than they might already have." She walked  out to the lounge.



Angelique was trembling on the inside, reacting to something so intense it had left her dismantled and exposed.

She gathered her few pieces of clothing and dressed, aware of Kasim  coming into the lounge behind her, but she didn't turn to look at him.  If she met his gaze, if he was naked, she feared she would find herself  back in his bed in a matter of seconds.

With a practiced wriggle, she got the zip fastened up her back, then  swept her loose hair back and behind her shoulders. The silk liner on  the dress was cool and the beadwork made it feel heavy and stiff. Her  sensitive, sensual soul was firmly tucked away behind walls and guards  again.

Searching out her pocketbook, she glanced at her phone and saw her  brother wanted her to text when she arrived home safely. She rolled her  eyes and plucked her lipstick from the velvet interior of her purse. She  had already tidied the rest of her face in the bathroom and was  determined to look like she had not been rolling around with the prince  all evening if she happened to be photographed leaving the hotel.

"You don't have to go."

"I should let you sleep," she said, sending him a sly look in the mirror near the door. "You've worked hard."

"That tongue," he said on a breath of laughter, stalking close to catch  at her and turn her, drawing her in front of his naked frame. "If you  hadn't used it to pleasure every inch of me, I would curse it  completely."         

     



 

Oh, he did not just say that. She blushed. Hard. And she would not look  to see if he was laughing. Or hardening. She stared at the flex of  tendons in his neck.

He chuckled and bent his head to nuzzle against her mouth with his own,  murmuring, "I'm rather fond of it, now. Let me say hello again."

He meant "good night," didn't he?

Their lips parted and sealed in a mutual coming together, like polar  opposites aligning and locking. His tongue found hers and caressed,  making showers of pleasure tingle down her front. She hummed a pleasured  noise and pressed into him, trying to assuage the instant rush of  greedy desire.

She found him hard and famished. He clutched her with increasing passion, threatening Trella's beautiful beadwork.

She drew back as far as he would let her and had to stifle a pant of  pure need. His eyes were like midnight, his desire for her undisguised,  from the flush of excitement across his cheekbones to the thrust of  flesh pressing into her abdomen.

"Come back to bed." Implacable determination was stamped into his face.

Her heart turned over with helpless yearning.

Defensive, flippant remarks like, I had a nice time, threatened to come  to her lips, but she found herself speaking more earnestly. Almost  begging for clemency. Her stupid eyes grew wet with the conflict inside  her.

"I would prefer to keep tonight private, if at all possible." Her voice  reflected the arousal he incited and the powerlessness she felt in the  face of it. If he pressed, she would stay the night. "If I get caught  doing the walk of shame tomorrow morning, it will cheapen something that  was actually very nice." She couldn't bear that. She really couldn't.

His eyes narrowed in a brief flinch. His mouth tightened and she thought he was about to demand she stay anyway.

"I'm going to London tomorrow. Come with me."

She blinked, thrown. She had geared herself up for this to be one night. A rush of hope flooded her. Yes. More.

Just as quickly, she thought, No. How?

Her mind splintered at the complexity of it. Obligation to Trella rushed in to make anything but these few hours impossible.

"I thought... You seemed pretty clear about there being no future." She searched his gaze.

His expression grew shuttered. "One more night, that's all I'm talking about."

Ouch. Right. She smiled her regret, hoping he'd take it as regret at  refusing, not the very real regret that this was such a dead-end road.

"The more we see each other, the more likely we are to become a sensation."

"Still trying to scare me off? It is unrealistic to think we won't be  found out, that's true. So what? If that's the only obstacle, there is  none."

"It's not," she murmured with genuine reluctance, and tried to step  away. Maybe when she went to Berlin next week? She would have to think  about it. She was never impetuous, least of all about men and allowing  them to impact her life.

He locked his arms, not holding her more tightly, but turning his  muscles to steel so she was forced to stand quietly and look up at him.  She did not hide her disapproval at being manhandled.

"What then?" he queried.

"Trella is coming to Paris."

"So?"

"We have to finish your sister's trousseau."

"Hasna will not be wearing everything you're giving her on her first day  of marriage. I will personally take responsibility for anything that  arrives late."

"That's not the point." She tried again to pivot away from him.

He kept her in place, not allowing her to screen her emotions or remove herself from his thought-scattering touch. Infuriating.

"I never leave Trella alone when she's here." She'd never even  considered it because she'd never been tempted. She set her hands on his  wrists where he gripped her hips, trying to extricate herself from the  lure of him. "Most especially not overnight."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-four. And don't pass judgment." She could see opinions forming  behind his eyes and it was true that they all babied Trella, but there  were reasons.

Trella was traveling on her own tomorrow, though. Did that mean she was ready for other acts of independence?

Angelique found herself standing acquiescent in Kasim's embrace,  considering her own arguments to her brothers about allowing Trella room  to find her own confidence.

What if she had a rebound crash as a result, though? She was trying to justify deserting her sister. What was wrong with her?

Berlin, she thought again, because it was further into the future and  gave her time to think. This man moved way too fast for her.         

     



 

"Is security the issue? Your detail can travel with us," he said.

"No. I mean, yes, they would have to. And Henri keeps a flat in London  that is completely secure. No, it's Trella. I could ask her..."

"I do not ask permission from strangers to go away with my lover."

"That's not-You don't understand." Lover. Her heart pounded with excitement at the sound of that.

"Enlighten me."

"No," she said bluntly. She never talked about Trella's experience. It  was hers and nearly killed Angelique every time she revisited it. Her  nostrils stung with unshed tears just thinking about it.

His fingertips dug in just a little against the soft flesh of her hips, insisting on possessing her full attention.

"Am I sleeping with you or your sister, Angelique?"

"That's the problem, Kasim. That is exactly the problem," she said as her eyes filled.



Kasim had begun to think she was playing coy, attempting a manipulation  as some women were inclined, but the anguish in her beautiful features  was real. It caused such a twist of protectiveness in him, he  instinctively tightened his arms to draw her nearer.

The old habit of standing between Jamal and the constant threat of harm  rose in him, mentally pushing him between Angelique and her sister,  making him even more determined to separate her from something that was  obviously harming her in some way.