The Royal House of Karedes: The Desert Throne

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN Kareef heard her gasp with joy, when he felt her tremble and shake around him, it was almost too much. His first thrust was nearly his last.

But he was no longer an eighteen-year-old boy. He took a slow, shuddering breath, holding back his raging desire, regaining control. He held himself in ferocious check as he pushed inside her. It took every bit of will that he possessed to hold himself back.

It was bliss.

It was hell.

It was everything he’d dreamed and more.

He looked down and saw Jasmine’s luscious body spread out beneath him, saw the afternoon sunlight against her full breasts, casting her pink, taut nipples in a warm glow as she arched her back. Her beautiful face was lost in an expression of fierce, agonized joy as he rode her. She triumphed in her possession of him, as he gloried in taking her.

The bright desert sunlight touched everywhere on her skin, like curling fingers. Her image washed over him like a wave of cool water. How long had he desired her? How long had he thirsted, like a perishing man for an oasis? How long had dreams of Jasmine Kouri tormented him, body and soul?

His hands shook as he gripped her shoulders, fighting to hold himself back from the thrust that would make him pour his seed into her.

He was no selfish boy, to take her quickly at his own pleasure. He would make it last. He’d brought her to fulfillment several times but it still wasn’t enough. He wanted to give her more—to make her feel more. He wanted to make love to her all day, all night until she could bear no more.

“Jasmine,” he whispered. His voice was raw even to his own ears.

He heard her soft, kittenish gasp in reply.

God, she was beautiful. He stared down into her face. The beautiful, beautiful face of the only woman he’d ever desired.

Lowering his head, he kissed her. She twisted beneath him, reaching her arms around his back, holding him down against her. He tightened in sweet agony.

Jasmine. He whispered her name soundlessly as he stroked up her naked body to her soft cheek. She was his, only his. There’d been no other lovers in her bed. He was the only man who’d ever possessed her.

The thought caused a surge to rush through his blood. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead from the effort it took to hold back his own climax.

There was no need to hurry, he told himself. No need to rush. He had all the time in the world.

Pulling back, he slowly moved inside her. She arched her back with a gasp, whispering rapturous words he could not hear.

With iron self-control, he thrust inside her again, riding her with increasing depth and speed. Their bodies became sweaty, sliding against each other as he pushed inside her with increasing roughness and force, almost impaling her as his muscled chest slid against the soft bounce of her breasts.

He couldn’t hold back much longer…couldn’t—

He felt her start to tighten again around him. Saw her hold her breath, then gasp, slowly letting out the air in a hiss through her full, reddened, bruised lips.

Suddenly, her nails gripped into his naked back. Screaming incomprehensible words, she twisted her hips, thrashing back and forth beneath him and he could hold back no longer. She screamed out his name, and he finally lost all control.

With a groan, he thrust inside her so deeply that almost at once, the orgasm hit him like a blow, with joy so intense he blacked out for several seconds.

It could have been minutes or hours later when he finally resurfaced. Kareef found himself naked on the bed, still holding her to his chest, with a sheet twisted haphazardly around them.

His heartbeat still hadn’t returned to normal as he looked down at her beautiful, exhausted face. Tenderly, he bent his head to kiss her dirty, smudged forehead.

Her eyelashes fluttered open, and she looked up at him without speaking. He heard the ragged pant of her breath. For a moment, he just cradled her in his arms and they looked at each other silently in the roseate glow of twilight.

Then he heard a knock, heard the door push open.

“Sire, forgive me, I was assisting at a difficult labor, but now I’m ready to see the—Oh.”

His trusted personal doctor, an elderly Qusani who’d been loyal to the Al’Ramiz family for generations, had peeked his head around the door, and clearly he’d had a shock. The physician’s cheeks burned red as he backed away. “Er—I’ll wait outside ’til you’re ready, and until then, leave the patient in your…er…capable hands.”

The man left, discreetly closing the door behind him.

Kareef and Jasmine looked at each other, still naked and sprawled across the bed, with only the twisted sheet like a rope over them.

And to his surprise, she burst into laughter.

“So much for discretion,” she said, wiping her eyes.

Kareef’s eyes couldn’t look away from her face as she laughed. Her sparkling eyes, her white teeth, the sound of her laugh. “He will never tell,” he promised. But he couldn’t stop smiling at her.

He’d never heard anything more beautiful in his life than her laugh. He’d never thought he’d hear it again.

Many hours later, after the doctor had given her scalp two stitches, bandaged her other cuts and pronounced her well, they made love several times more before they lay sleeping in each other’s arms. Or rather, Kareef held her as she slept.

He couldn’t stop looking at her.

Now, outside the window of his bedroom, he could see dawn rising over the desert, and his stomach growled. Time for breakfast, his body insisted. He realized he hadn’t eaten at all yesterday. He smiled down at Jasmine sleeping in his arms and softly caressed her cheek. He’d been distracted.

He could hardly believe he already wanted her again. They’d barely slept at all last night. They’d made love at least four times, possibly four and a half, depending on what counted and what did not.

He should just hold her and sleep. He closed his eyes. Jasmine was the only woman he’d ever wanted close like this. He suddenly realized she was the only woman he’d ever slept with, in any sense of the word.

His arms tightened around her. Then his stomach growled again, louder this time. He glanced at her, surprised the sound hadn’t startled her.

Kareef gave a resigned sigh. Careful not to wake her, he moved his arm from beneath her head and quietly dressed before he left her.

When she woke, he would surprise her. First with breakfast. He allowed himself a wicked smile. Then with dessert.

He went down the hallway to his modern kitchen and turned on the gas stove. Pulling pans off their hooks, he prepared eggs scrambled with meat, then toast and fruit. He got two plates from a cupboard and arranged them on a tray. As an afterthought, he went outside and picked a flower from the small pot of roses beside the front door.

When he came back into the house, he found Jasmine standing in the middle of the gleaming kitchen, wearing only an oversized T-shirt emblazoned with the name of some 1980s rock band.

“I couldn’t find you,” she said accusingly.

Leaning forward, he placed the rose in her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I was hungry.”

She smiled, looking somehow like a fairy princess in the large T-shirt with the flower in her mussed hair. “You’re hungry an awful lot,” she murmured.

Giving her a sensual grin, Kareef lifted a dark eyebrow. “You bring it out in me.”

Her forehead furrowed as she searched his gaze. Then with an intake of breath she looked down at the tray. Her voice was soft, almost impossible to hear. “It looks delicious. Who made it?”

“I did.”

She laughed, looking around the kitchen as if she expected to find three sous chefs hidden behind the huge refrigerator. “No. Really. Who made it?”

“I have no live-in staff here, Jasmine,” he said. “I told you. I don’t like being fussed over.”

She looked at him skeptically, wrinkling her nose. “You mean to tell me—” she indicated the spotless, sparkling tile floor “—you mopped that yourself?”

“I’m independent—not insane,” he said with a laugh. “I do have a housekeeper, as well as gardeners and my veterinary staff and stable workers. But they have their own cottages on the edge of my land. I live in this house alone. I prefer it that way.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s go outside.” Taking two cups of steaming Turkish coffee, he placed them on the tray beside the breakfast plates. Holding the patio door open with his shoulder, he carried the tray in one hand. “We can watch the sun rise.”

She followed him out to the wooden deck behind the kitchen. Leaning against the railing, she looked out at the vast expanse of desert stretching beyond the valley.

“You said you someday wanted to build a house out here,” she whispered. “But I never imagined anything so beautiful as this.”

Setting the tray down on the table, he looked at the dark, curvy silhouette of her body in front of the vast wide desert now glowing pink in the sunrise.

“Beautiful indeed,” he said quietly.

She turned to face him. “It must be hard for you to leave this all behind.”

A dull throb went through his head, in the back of his skull. “Yes.”

He’d briefly forgotten the royal palace, forgotten the endless, unsatisfied crowds of people hemming him in, making demands of their king. Forgotten the fact that in just a few days, he would formally and forever renounce all right to be a private citizen with his own selfish desires. He would be king, sacrificing himself forever for the good of his people.

He took a deep breath. But today at least, he was home. He was free. He looked up at Jasmine, so impossibly beautiful in the old T-shirt that stretched over her breasts and barely covered her thighs. Today at least he was with her.

“Here, we can forget you are the king,” she said softly. She turned back to lean against the railing, watching the pink sun peeking slowly over the violet mountains. “And I can forget I will be soon married.”

Staring out blindly across the desert, she shivered in the cool morning.

Taking two cups of steaming coffee, he walked across the deck to stand behind her. Handing her a mug, he wrapped one arm around her and pulled her back against his chest. He held her close as they watched the sun rise across the desert, filling the land with warmth and color like rose gold, as they both sipped coffee in silence.

She glanced back at him with a sudden embarrassed laugh. “You said you come here to be alone. Do you want me to go?”

He held her against his chest.

“No,” he said quietly. “I want you to stay.”

She didn’t interrupt his solitude, he realized. She improved it. The quiet intimacy she offered him enriched everything, even the sunrise.

Looking out at the vast desert, he realized he was holding the only person on earth he’d ever wanted to be close to him. Not just in his bed, but in his life.

It couldn’t last. He knew that. In just a few days, they would return to the city. Kareef would again become the king; Jasmine would become another man’s wife. The magic would end.

But staring out at the streaks of orange sunlight now streaking across the brightening blue sky, Kareef told himself they had time. They had days left, hours and hours stretching ahead of them.

And surely, in this magical place, those days could last forever.

Two days later, Jasmine was floating on her back in the swimming pool, staring up at the bluest, widest sky on earth, when she felt Kareef rise up in the water beneath her, pulling her into his arms.

“Good morning,” he growled. Rivulets of water trickled down the hard, tanned muscles of his chest as held her against him. “Why did you get up so early?” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. “You should have stayed in bed.”

Looking down, she realized he was naked. And that there was something specific that he wanted from her.

“Early?” she teased, clinging to his shoulders and pretending to kick her feet in protest. “It’s noon!”

“You kept me up ’til dawn, so it’s your fault,” he said, then all talk ceased as he kissed her. A few minutes later, still entwined in a kiss, he walked out of the pool with Jasmine’s legs wrapped around his waist. Carrying her across the back patio, he laid her on the cushioned lounge bed beneath a loggia. There, he pulled off her string bikini and slowly made love to her in the open air, beneath the hot desert sun.

Afterward, Jasmine must have slept briefly in his arms, for when she opened her eyes, the sun had moved in the sky. But she no longer could recognize the line between sleeping and waking. How could she tell when she was sleeping, when everything she’d imagined in her heart’s deepest dreams had become real, flesh and blood in her arms?

Her days here at Kareef’s desert home had been drenched with laughter and tenderness and passion; her short stay here had been so full of color and life, they’d made the thirteen long years before seem nothing more than a lonely gray dream.

If only she could stay here forever.

Staring out at the reflected sunlight of the turquoise pool, she tried to push the thought from her mind. She had only one day left here. She should enjoy it. Tomorrow morning, Kareef had to be back in the city. His diplomatic engagements could no longer be kept waiting; nor could he put off the royal banquet, which would be attended by the foreign dignitaries who’d come for his coronation.

Tonight, the dream would end.

Stop thinking about it, she tried to tell herself. You’ll only ruin the precious hours you have left. But she couldn’t stop herself. Even when she’d been in bed that morning, cuddled in Kareef’s arms as he slept beside her, she’d stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom and wished with all her heart that she could stay here forever.

In his bed. In his arms.

She’d wished she could remain his wife.

The wish had been so powerful it had nearly choked her. And so she’d fled the bedroom and thrown herself into the pool, to stare up at the sky, to let the water and chlorine and hot sun dissolve her tears.

But now, as she held him on the lounge bed beneath the loggia beside the pool, she was almost tempted to ask him if there were any chance. Any chance at all. The words were trembling on her lips. Even though she already knew the answer.

“Kareef?” she whispered, then stopped.

“Hmm?” His face was pressed against hers, his body still naked beneath the sun. He didn’t open his eyes. The sun had already half-dried the dark wave of his hair.

She took a deep breath. “I was…I was wondering…”

Then a sparkle caught her eye. She looked out by the pool and saw the pants he’d discarded carelessly before he’d jumped into the water. Something had tumbled out of the pocket, now glistening green in the light.

The emerald.

The tiny heart-shaped emerald on a gold chain her parents had given her for her sixteenth birthday. She’d been wearing it when Kareef had asked her to marry him that day in the thicket of trees behind the riding school. According to the ancient Qusani ritual, she’d been required to give a token as pledge of her faith. So she’d pulled the gold chain off her neck, and placed it in his hand as she’d tearfully spoken the words that would bind them.

And now, after thirteen years, he was carelessly carrying the necklace around in his pants pocket, awaiting the moment he would divorce her.

Staring at the emerald glinting in the sun, she blinked hard as all her dreams came crashing around her.

Kareef lifted his head. “What is it?” he said lazily, his hand lingering on her breast. He sighed. “Don’t tell me. Do you already want more?” He yawned, but was already smiling as he reached for her. “You tire me out, woman…”

She closed her eyes. She did want more. More of him. More of everything. And she suddenly couldn’t allow him to touch her—not when she felt like crying, thrashing, wailing like a child for what she could never have.

He stopped. “Jasmine?”

“It’s nothing,” she whispered. “I’m just—” her voice broke “—happy.”

“As am I.” Kareef’s hand suddenly tightened on her own. “But you know our time cannot last.”

Her eyes flew open. Already? She wasn’t ready for him to speak the words. Her eyes fell upon the emerald necklace hanging out of his pocket in the shorts crumpled by the pool. She wasn’t ready! Not yet!

With a nimbleness born of fear, she leapt to her feet, backing away. “It’s a beautiful day. Shall we go for a ride?”

The way his jaw dropped would have been comical, if her heart weren’t breaking.

“A ride?” he repeated in shock.

“Horse riding,” she explained succinctly.

Frowning in bewilderment, he rubbed the back of his head. “But you hate riding. You…hate it.”

Was he remembering the same thing she was, of their long-ago horse ride in the desert? Of how he’d found her, thrown on the rocks after his horse Razul had been spooked by a snake? Kareef had fallen to his knees before her, his eyes dark with fear, his face pale and streaked with dirt beneath the red twilight. “Hold on, Jasmine,” he’d whispered as he’d carried her to the cave. “Just hold on.…”

Lifting her chin, she swallowed, pushing the memory away. “I don’t hate riding,” she said flatly.

“Since when?”

Her eyes flashed at him. “I’ve been gone a long time.”

“Have you changed so much?”

“How about we race, and see?”

“You—race against me?” He laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Are you scared?” she taunted in reply.

His face grew serious. He rose to his feet. Standing naked in front of her, beneath the shadows of the loggia, he cupped her face in his hands.

“You don’t have to do this, Jasmine.” His tender blue gaze, endless as the desert sky, whispered through her soul. “You don’t have anything to prove.”