With a low, long hum, she wrapped her legs around him.
Holding onto her hips, he pulled out and thrust into her again.
“Yes,” she gasped, clutching at his shoulders, digging in her nails. She tightened her legs around him as if she must pull him into her.
And that was what he wanted—to be lost in her. To lose the world and have nothing but her. He could only hear her ragged breaths, could only feel her heart pounding. Closing his eyes, he let the world fall away until it was just his body joined to hers. Their breaths—rough and uneven—becoming one.
Her body jerked beneath him and she cried out.
With a growl, he pushed deeper into her and his own release swept through him in wave after wave.
He was shaking still as he rolled off her and pulled her close to him. She wrapped one leg over him, muttering, “I think I smeared my henna.”
Bending down, he kissed the corner of her mouth. She gave a sigh and her breathing deepened into sleep.
But he could not find his rest. He was starting to wonder if his words to his father of falling in love at first sight had been the truth.
10
As was his habit, Khalid woke early. He left Casey sleeping. Honey stained the bed linens, but Casey’s henna seemed intact, protected by the honey. That would please his father—and Khalid frowned at the thought.
Why was he so focused on only what his father wanted? Was Casey right? Was he too much like his father? Was that why they always clashed? Khalid had thought it was because his father would not give over any responsibility to anyone—but was it really that Khalid was just as stubborn, just as set in his ways?
He had much to think over.
Heading to his room, he showered and changed. He wanted coffee—he wanted to eat breakfast off Casey’s naked body, instead he was ambushed by his brothers Zaid and Ahmed in the hallway.
“Father wants to see us all,” Zaid said. He looked unusually serious, even for Zaid.
With a shrug, he followed his brothers into his father’s study.
The sultan sat behind a huge glass and steal desk—business for the sultan was always about Western ways and thought. Khalid resisted looking at the portrait of his mother that hung opposite the desk, the only decoration in the room. Her lost still hurt, still left a twist in his chest.
Facing his father, Khalid asked, “What is this about?”
French windows opened onto the garden and let in a still cool morning breeze and the scent of flowers. Standing, the sultan smiled and waved to the slim, tiny woman that Khalid only now noticed, sitting in a corner of the room. “This is about a wedding. About a husband for Fadiyah.”
As if on cue, Mehmood stepped into the room from the garden and moved to the sultan’s side. “Which of you will marry my daughter?”
Khalid fisted his hands and shook his head. “I am engaged already.”
Mehmood waved off his words. “Not you. I would not have you for a son if you came with your weight in gold.” He faced Zaid and Ahmed. “Now—which of you is to marry my daughter?”
Casey woke and stretched. It’d been a long time since she’d had that great a time with any guy. Okay, maybe she’d never had that great a time. She might have been more willing to keep dating if she’d known sex could be that explosive—that amazing. Sitting up, she saw Khalid was gone already. No surprise there.
Even so, her heart gave a small lurch.
“Get used to it, girl,” she muttered.
She headed for the shower. The henna was itching again and she intended to wash it off. She also needed to get her head on straight again.
She’d always been career-focused. She was not going to throw it all away for what? A fling? No way was Khalid a forever kind of guy. No, she was going to be practical—just like he had said she was.
Last night had been great.
Last night had been one night.
She was not going to make this a habit. She was not going to fall in love. This was all pretend—fantasy. She glanced at the diamond glittering on her finger, and scrubbed harder at the henna.
The rough coating came off, leaving behind red swirls that wouldn’t come off her skin. She was stuck with that. Getting out, she toweled off. Her phone was buzzing, so she checked the messages. A couple of texts from her sister—and five from Luke, all of them pushing for her to send him more.
Need that article as of yesterday if you want to keep your job. Frowning, she texted back that she’d meet her deadline—and get him more background material. But his texts bothered her. Luke seemed more pushy that usual. Was something up on his end? Was the business down? Was he looking to use her article to boost next month’s edition?
Well, it didn’t matter. Her focus needed to be that article anyway.