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‘I do.’
She smiled.
Hazin was well schooled but English was his second language and occasionally he slipped. Anyway, language and its intricacies could hardly be expected to be at the forefront of his mind when in the presence of such loveliness.
He liked her matter-of-fact correction that had come with a smile. Hazin had been raised to know any deviation from perfection would not be tolerated.
Yes he was wild, but whether it was a misspelt birthday card to his father, a torrid fling, or being born second in line, the verdict was always the same.
Not good enough.
So he no longer tried and instead happily disappointed everyone.
His sins would never be forgiven so Hazin had long since stopped apologising for them.
It made no difference when he did.
‘So,’ he asked, wanting to know more of her, ‘why have you banned yourself?’
‘Because the people here are terribly shallow.’
‘Yes.’
‘And my ex comes here...’ Flo explained just a little.
‘Were you hoping to see him?’
‘God, no.’ Flo grimaced at the very thought. ‘I’m not just avoiding Dion’s, I’ve been staying home a lot of late.’
‘For how long?’
‘All this year.’
‘Why?’
‘I’m off men.’
He looked at Flo and he wondered, in a way that was unusual for him, what on earth had happened that she would hide her light away.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
Flo hadn’t told anyone.
Not a single soul.
Yet his eyes looked right into hers and his smile was non-judgmental and kind.
But, no, she would not be telling him.
‘So are you off all men?’
She swallowed because just a short while ago her response would have been an unequivocal yes.
Except he was ravishing.
And funny.
But mainly he was ravishing.
His eyes weren’t a uniform grey—this close she could see there were little flecks of green and amber.
‘I think so.’
‘Isn’t it a bit extreme?’ he asked. ‘To hide yourself away...?’
‘Perhaps,’ Flo said. ‘Yes.’
‘Would you like another drink?’ he offered.
‘No, thank you.’ She glanced at his empty glass. ‘Can I get you one?’
She was frantic to get some control here—to go and stand at the bar again so she could remind herself how to breathe, but Hazin would not let her get away that easily.
‘I don’t drink,’ he said. ‘I can have your friend’s soda water. It doesn’t look as if she’s going to show.’
‘No.’
She looked around the bar and wondered what to do. Perhaps Maggie had changed her mind about letting Ilyas know about the baby.
Flo felt a little lost without her phone.
And then she saw him.
Her ex.
The reason why she had been hiding for so long.
Bastard.
She flicked her eyes away from her past and back at Hazin.
At least this man didn’t pretend he wasn’t one.
‘Are you okay?’ Hazin asked, because he didn’t usually lose his audience.
‘My ex is here,’ Flo said, and she held her breath as out of the corner of her eye she saw him make his way over.
Hazin watched her very pretty face pale rather than flush and he knew she’d been badly hurt.
And then he knew why.
Hazin was a regular here and had watched this creep pick up someone on one night and bring his wife for a meal the next.
Hazin might be wild now, but he had been married once and he’d taken his vows seriously, so, when it was clear from her panicked silence that she could not deal with her ex, Hazin was more than happy to.
‘Flo’s busy,’ Hazin said in a surly tone. ‘Please leave.’
‘Now look here—’ the man started, but then Hazin stood up.
‘I did ask politely,’ Hazin said and Flo could not believe there was about to be a fight.
What the hell?
He was more than up for a fight, but instead he gestured with his head for Marcus.
‘I just want to speak to Flo,’ the man insisted.
‘Well, you can’t,’ Hazin said, ‘because, as of now, you are barred from this establishment.’
It was Marcus’s problem now because, as Flo’s ex loudly protested as he was steered away, Hazin took his seat again. ‘He shan’t trouble you again,’ Hazin said. ‘At least, not when you’re here.’
The shadow in the room was gone and she experienced the giddy feeling of some measure of retribution at last.
Now Flo examined him and no longer did she hide that fact.
And Hazin did the same.
She was used to the roaming of male eyes over her body but his eyes did not leave her face.
And yet his gaze was indecent.
He traced the curves of her lips with his eyes so thoroughly that Flo fought not to run her tongue over them.
It felt as if he studied each eyelash in turn until she silently pleaded for him to fully meet her gaze.
Then when he did it was fire versus fire.
Beneath the table, she could envision his spread knees for they seemed to encircle hers, which were pressed tightly together. She could feel their surrounding warmth and almost craved the tight pressure of his grip.
‘I think I should go,’ Flo said, because it was clear Maggie wasn’t going to show.
‘I can’t hear you.’
Liar, liar, Flo thought as she gazed deep into his eyes, for here in the booth they were sequestered from the thrumming noise of the bar.
She could say it a little louder, reach for her purse and leave, or she could lean in a little closer to that delicious mouth and repeat what she had just said.
Or she could simply make the complicated so terribly easy.
Flo chose the latter—‘Come and sit by me, then.’
No, she didn’t want another drink, or conversation; she wanted this...
His kiss.
CHAPTER TWO
IT FELT AS if the oxygen masks had tumbled out on the plane, for even before he was seated she reached up for his tie and pulled him in.
The attraction had been instant, the effect close up magnetic, for they were so strongly drawn to each other that first contact offered Flo a heady feeling of relief. Hazin lowered his head and their mouths met before he was even fully seated. His lips were warm and Flo’s pouted to his.
Soft and sensual, his mouth claimed hers as he slid into the booth beside her.
She had never known a kiss like it, for it sent a river of shivers through her and the brief bliss of relief faded for she had to taste his tongue, yet Hazin made her wait. His hands came to her upper arms and he held her steady when she ached to lean into him.
Still no tongue, just the bruising of his mouth and a breathless rush of desire in an outwardly chaste kiss. Then his mouth left hers and she felt its warm drag against her cheek and the scratch of his jaw as his lips found her ear. His breath was warm and he told her his truth. ‘I want you so badly.’
His voice was so loaded with lust that it sounded as if he were already inside her.
Her sex clenched to his words.
She had no resolve.
None.
For a second she sat, his cheek pressed to hers, his ragged sexy breathing in her ear and his hands firm on her arms, and Flo closed her eyes in a vague prayer for common sense to prevail.
It didn’t.
Fired on by one kiss, her body crackled like a chip in hot oil and she offered her response to his indecent request. ‘Take me to bed.’
As soon as the night air hit her, sense would appear, Flo reassured herself as they stood. He took her by the hand and she was rather glad for the support as he led her through the bar.
But not to the street.
No cool air to hit her.
No car or taxi to calm her mind.
They were in an elevator. He hit the button and even that jab of his finger had her almost fold. And then that same finger stroked her nipple and she simply watched, entranced.
Was it her self-imposed ban on men that had her so frantic? Flo wondered. But, no, that wasn’t right, for she had never felt like this in her life.
She was turned on to her very core. When he removed his hand she took it and pressed his palm to her face then deep-kissed his hand.
He moaned and said something in Arabic and then, when the elevator doors opened, Flo dropped his hand and they stood for a second facing each other.
She had to have his mouth.
Yet he just gave a slow smile and with an utter lack of haste he turned and walked down the long corridor.
For a hotel, there was a distinct lack of doors, Flo thought vaguely, for her mind was muddled by him.
They came to one, though, and he opened it. They stepped in and she realised the lack of doors was because his suite took up the entire floor.
A rainy London night glittered before them. Flo could see the Houses of Parliament, and Big Ben told her it was after midnight, yet the landmarks, so loved and familiar to her, were now altered in her mind. How could she ever gaze upon the time again and not remember the feel of him coming up behind her?
His hands dealt with her zipper and she just stood there as her dress fell to the floor.
She turned her head, needing his touch, for little slivers of doubt were raining in.
‘Kiss me...’ she said.
‘Of course.’
But still he denied her the taste of his mouth for his lips went to her shoulder and he tasted her there as he slowly removed her bra.
‘Hazin...’
‘Do you mean, kiss you here?’ he asked, and turned her around so he could kiss her breast.
Softly, slowly and indecently.
The doubt he’d sparked was intentional, Flo realised, and it now felt delicious. The hovering of uncertainty was dizzying as he kissed down her stomach.
Hazin removed her knickers and then he kissed her calves as he carefully slipped off her shoes.
‘Sit down,’ he told her.
‘Where?’
‘You choose.’
She couldn’t.
Flo looked around at the stunning surroundings and blinked in confusion. She was naked while he was fully dressed and she was actually trembling with desire.
‘How about here?’ Hazin suggested as he indicated one of the high-backed wooden chairs from a large polished dining table.
‘It doesn’t look very comfortable.’
‘Poor Flo,’ he said as he brought the chair over.
The wood was cold and hard on her bottom and she wasn’t certain she liked this game, yet she complied willingly.
He was still completely dressed—he hadn’t even removed his jacket—and the only concession to her nakedness was that he further loosened his tie.
‘Are you going to spank me?’ Flo asked, curious because she had never been spanked before. In fact, she would absolutely refuse it.
Not with him...
‘Why would I spank you?’ he asked. ‘When you’ve been so good?’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m going to reward you.’
He knelt down and his hands parted her thighs. ‘Hazin...’ Flo objected. It was all too clinical. She didn’t want flowers but, hell, a kiss would be nice.
And then he did kiss her.
But...there.
He just scooted her bottom out before lowering his head and thoroughly kissing her. He could be as clinical as he liked if it meant this! He moved her calves to rest on his broad shoulders as she hung onto the edge of the chair.
His tongue was insistent and he moaned with intent. It was so focused and thorough and Flo found that tears threatened. Her thighs were trembling but his arms clamped them down. She let go of the chair and buried her hands into his hair. His tongue grew more rapid in its intimate perusal and her bottom tried to lift as she began to climax, but he pinned her down and she tugged at his thick black hair as she met utter bliss.
Then he stood and simply picked her up and did as she had asked.
He took her to bed.
It was already turned down, but he pushed the sheets further back and deposited her there.
And she lay on her side, trying to recover and somewhat bemused as she watched him undress, for she had wanted to do that part.
Hazin was like no other lover.
He kicked off his shoes and peeled off his socks.
She wanted to feel the muscled arms beneath the white shirt.
Yet he denied her that pleasure.
She wanted to tug at his belt and to feel him, yet she breathlessly watched instead.
God, he was exquisite.
Lean and strong and completely unabashed. He smiled over to her, an arrogant smile, and she returned it, for they were feasting on each other with their eyes.
He went into the bedside drawer and took out a condom. She reached out to touch him but he slapped her hand back. Again she had to settle for watching and she bit on her lip as he stood and gave his long thick length a couple of deft strokes before sliding on the condom.
It shouldn’t have been sexy, yet it absolutely was. She was burning from her roots to her toes, on fire as he climbed into bed beside her.
And then finally, finally he kissed her.
He rolled her onto her back and he gave her all that had been denied until now. His tongue was probing and his mouth was urgent and rough. Finally, she felt those muscled arms and the satin of his skin. He drove into her and she cried out because he was not a gentle lover, but his controlled power was the just the right kind roughness, for he stroked her deep inside and seemed to read her wants instinctively.
Hazin spoke in Arabic, yet she somehow understood every word, for they were so hot together and so damned good.
Worries fell like dominos.
That row at work? Gone.
The bastard earlier? Forgotten.
Obsolete.
Hazin felt the same.
For the first time utterly attuned to another person.
He had tasted her first peak of pleasure, but the second gripped him and the shudder and pulsing grip of her just about finished him.
‘Hazin,’ Flo begged, because she was utterly spent, and then, when it should have been over, he kissed her back.
A kiss so soft and slow it tasted of the romance both had denied.
It was like finding herself in the wrong dream.
Scary almost to know him tender as well as urgent and passionate.
And even scarier for Flo to reveal her other side.
Flo opened her eyes and met his and there was a moment of utter connection. Her legs loosened their grip on him and he thrust slowly. So intimate and slow were they that she deep-kissed his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, as they locked into each other; tasting each other, and raining kisses as he took her to a place she had never been.
It felt like the edge of something, like she had finally stumbled into the right dream as he called her name and reached his own moment of release. And when there was nothing left to give, her body found an untapped resource, for she beat to his tune, this utter giddying orgasm, that only he could evoke.
His weight on her felt necessary and, oh, so right.
She could lie there and not think for a moment, just enjoy the bliss of them both sated.
He really was bliss, for there was no dark silence afterwards, just a light kiss and the warmth of his embrace.
‘I’m glad you were there tonight,’ Hazin said.
So was she.
* * *
Flo awoke, of course, with regret.
Please, she bargained with the powers that be, reverse this mistake and I will give up men for life.
Then she felt the wetof his tongue and the warmth of his breath on her neck and the light dusting of his fingers on her stomach.
And then the tearing of the condom foil lit her like a match as he pulled her against him.
Tomorrow, she vowed as he slipped inside her.
She would start being good tomorrow.
CHAPTER THREE
HAZIN SHOWERED AND thought of the woman who now lay in his bed.
He liked her being there.
Flo made him laugh and that in itself was unusual for there had been little laughter of late.
As a rule, Hazin offered no breakfast with bed that might encourage an overnight guest to stay longer, but he came out and dried himself with a towel and found he had not changed his mind—he wanted her here.
‘Do you want breakfast?’
‘That would be lovely,’ Flo said, and sat up as he picked up the bedside phone and ordered breakfast for two.
She did not know how to tell Hazin that she knew who he was and wished that she had got it out of the way last night.
Now she stood watching him dry off. There was a bruise on his chest that her mouth had made and another on his neck. He was muscled and toned and his length was rising from his thigh. He watched her watching it.
‘Did I miss a bit?’ he said, holding the towel out to her. She wanted to take it, to dry his glistening skin and then wet him again with her mouth. Their want and desire was so matched, and her body so willing, but she had to clear things up first.
‘Hazin,’ Flo said, declining the towel, and she swallowed nervously as he resumed his leisurely drying off. ‘Last night, I came—’
‘I know.’
‘I mean I came to Dion’s in the hope...’ Her words were coming out wrong, Flo knew that, but she just didn’t know how best to tell him. So she simply did. ‘I knew that you’d be here.’
The towel stopped in mid-stroke of his thigh.
‘Meaning?’ he said, and then gave a derisive laugh. ‘You know who I am.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Did you get your photo of me?’
‘Hazin!’
‘Or are you off to sell your story now?’
‘Please listen—’
‘No, you listen.’ He pulled on his clothes with some difficulty for the angry words had fired him, and as he attempted to tuck himself in, words hissed out through his teeth. ‘Do what you want. I don’t care...’
‘I’m a friend of Maggie’s.’
‘Who?’
‘The woman you met on the yacht...’
‘You mean the one who bribed me?’
‘No.’ Flo knelt up on the bed, shaking her head, and then she pulled the sheet up to cover her for everything had vanished in a heartbeat—the intimacy, the carefree nakedness, the laughter, all that they had so recently found swept away by her careless words.
‘Hazin...’ She took a breath, and though her mouth was open she did not know what to say.
Clearly Maggie had stayed away last night for a reason. Perhaps she had changed her mind about telling Ilyas that she was carrying his child?
And now certainly wasn’t the time or place to tell Hazin!
‘Get out,’ he said, and his voice whipped the tense air.
‘Hazin, what happened last night had nothing to do with Maggie. I didn’t come to the bar intending to sleep with you.’
He was too used to this, Hazin thought as he marched through to the lounge and retrieved her underwear and dress that they had so happily disposed of last night. He walked back to the bedroom and tossed them to her on the bed.
‘Get out!’ he said again.
But then he changed his mind, for he could not wait however long it would take her to dress for Flo to be gone. ‘Actually, I’m going to go,’ he told her. ‘I want you out of here by the time I get back. If you’re not, I’ll ask Security to have you removed.’
She knew how effective his security was.
He grabbed his wallet and phone and pocketed his keys.
‘Stay for breakfast at least,’ he sneered. ‘You certainly earned it.’
* * *
Hazin kicked at the kerb as he walked down the street.
It was grey, raining and cold.
His phone kept ringing and he was in no mood to talk to anyone. It couldn’t be Flo because they hadn’t exchanged numbers yet pulled it out to check.
It was Ilyas.
Ilyas was persistent and Hazin was in just the mood for a row.
‘What the hell happened to you last night?’ Hazin shouted by way of greeting when he took the call.
‘We need to speak.’
‘Well, had you turned up as arranged we would have.’
‘Hazin, this is important.’
* * *
They met at a café and drank strong coffee.
Hazin could feel his brother’s eyes sweep over his neck and the bite mark Flo had left. ‘I don’t need another lecture.’
‘I’m not here to lecture you,’ Ilyas said.
‘And I don’t need to be reminded that the yachts and jets will be pulled. I can afford to pay for my own.’
Hazin was not idle.
After Petra’s death he had returned to England with the intention to further his education and attend university, as had always been his aim. He hadn’t been able to focus, though, so had started to dabble in property.
Whatever Hazin dabbled in did well.
He did not need Royal privilege to survive; in fact, without it Hazin thrived. Yes, he had been given an amazing start but he had a good eye and even if he had been born to a beggar he still would have done well.
His parents knew it and loathed that fact.
‘Hazin,’ Ilyas said, ‘I have already told you that I am not here to lecture you. I have something important to tell you—yesterday I spoke with our father in front of the Palace elders and I told him that things are changing—’
‘They will never change.’ Hazin dismissed the notion. ‘Not while he is King.’
‘I have told him that there are to be no decisions made without my approval and that there is to be a transition of power to me.’
Now Hazin looked up. ‘He would never agree to that.’
‘I gave him no choice but to agree. I made it clear that if he refused then I am prepared to take it to the people,’ Ilyas said. ‘Would I have your support?’
‘You don’t need it.’
‘I want it, though.’
Hazin looked at his brother.
A stranger.
He wanted to believe change could happen, yet could not really see it taking place. Yet there was a stir of relief within Hazin that his brother would be stepping up, an intrinsic trust that Ilyas would get things right, yet he did not know where that feeling came from for they had been raised apart. ‘You have my support.’
‘I want you beside me.’
‘Oh, no.’ Hazin shook his head. He would support his brother in his ventures but he would not be returning home.
‘Hazin, there has been a lot of damage done by him. If things are to be put right it’s going to take a lot of work to win back people’s trust. You returning to Zayrinia would speak volumes.’
‘You expect me to upend my life on the premise that things may change?’
‘They shall change. And there is something else I am here to tell you,’ Ilyas said. ‘I am going to marry in two weeks’ time.’
‘So much for change.’ Hazin shrugged and took a drink of his coffee. Ilyas had always refused to marry, insisting the harem more than sufficed. ‘You simply gave in to him.’
It had infuriated their father that Ilyas had refused to marry. He had long wanted to select a bride for his son and for there to be a Royal wedding.
At the age of eighteen Hazin had received his exam results. He had worked incredibly hard and the results had been outstanding.
His father hadn’t even commented.
Instead of attending university in England, as had been Hazin’s dream, finally he’d found something he could do that might please his father the King.
There was going to be a Royal wedding—Hazin’s.
Petra had been chosen as his bride and they had first met at the wedding itself.
Both had been eighteen and Hazin could well remember looking out from the balcony at the cheering crowds and wondering what the hell he had done, while trying to hide it from his bride.
Ilyas dragged him from his introspection. ‘You remember Maggie?’
Hazin frowned at the sound of that name again.
He hadn’t seen her in six months. Even then, all they had shared was a conversation and that alone had caused so much trouble.
Yet in the space of an hour he had heard her name twice.
Once from Flo, now from his brother.
‘What about her?’