"We don't live in Bezakistan. Our world would never accept such a relationship."
Talib put a hand on his shoulder. "If you aren't ready to be the one to define what is and what isn't acceptable to your world, then you are not ready to love Tori. I wish you all well, but we will be collecting our sister. I require some time with my queen now."
He watched as the sheikh crossed the ballroom floor to stand with his brothers and their beautiful wife. They all welcomed him with open arms. Rafe moved to one side, ceding his place by Piper as though he understood his brother's need. Talib kissed his wife, their hands tangling together. She squeezed his hand, and though Rory could see him shaking his head as if to say he was fine, Piper's little frown said that she didn't believe him. She leaned in, as though she could give him her strength.
What would having that sort of love feel like, with a woman who knew him well enough to see through well-meaning lies? And what would it feel like to know that no matter what happened to him, his wife would always have his brothers to lean on, to share her life with?
Talib al Mussad was a lucky man and not simply because of his birth.
"That is one lucky woman." Claire threaded her arm through his as Callum headed toward the stage, notes in one hand, his public smile firmly in place.
"Funny. I was thinking the sheikh was a lucky man." He glanced at his sister. She was always so reasonable, so intellectual. "You don't think it would be hard to live in a way the rest of the world thinks is wrong?"
"Who cares what the world thinks, Rory? The world doesn't hold you at night. The world doesn't take care of you. So no, if I had the chance, I wouldn't give a damn what the world thought. I would choose love." She nodded to the stage. "Good. After Callum's speech, we can start closing this thing down. I'm rather tired after all the dancing. Say, have you seen Oliver?"
Yes. He'd seen Oliver stalking after Tori like a lion about to tear apart a luscious little antelope. "No," he lied. "I'm certain he's around here somewhere."
He had to hope Oliver wasn't ruining the future for all of them.
* * * *
Oliver pressed Tori against the door, his cock shooting to life. Months-years, really-it seemed as if the damn thing had been completely apathetic. Oh, it functioned for the most part, but only in an obligatory capacity.
Now, fire rained down and passion pelted him. His cock pulsed with life, strictly because of her.
He covered her body with his, pressing his chest against the softness of her breasts, dying to be inside her. He wanted tonight to last because it was all he would ever allow himself to have of her.
"I'm not going to play the gentleman like my brother."
"I don't want you to." The last thing she wanted now was gentle.
"Good, because I'm going to get inside you and I'm going to stay there for a good, long while." He would take her again and again. When he was fully sated, maybe this terrible longing to be near her would dissipate and he could get back to his real life.
And she would move on with hers. Away from him because after tonight, Callum would have to see the sort of woman she really was.
But he didn't care now. All he could think about was how soft she felt and how fucking sweet she seemed. He didn't care if all that was an illusion he no longer believed. Right now, all that mattered was sinking into her for a few hours and forgetting anything else existed.
"Take it off. Now."
"My dress?" Her breath caught. "I can't reach the zipper."
"I meant the ring. I'm not making love to you with that bloody thing on your finger."
"I'm sorry." She gripped it with her right thumb and forefinger and tossed it away as if it meant nothing. He heard it ping on the hardwood floor as it rolled away. "I shouldn't have even tried it. I was very foolish. It's nothing, Oliver. It was a stupid idea."
Yes, marriage was a very stupid idea, especially with her. She was dangerous to his peace of mind, and he wouldn't marry again. His brothers and sister could do all the heir making for the family. He was through with silly notions of faithful love.
He pressed his hand up her body and cupped her pert breast. Even through the material of her gown, he could sense how soft that skin was going to be. Touching her was what mattered. Sex with her right now mattered. He could scratch his itch, then send her back to the idiot who planned to marry her. And if she thought she'd traded up … Well, he would make sure she understood the way of the world come morning.