Commanded by the sheikh

‘No one?’ He drew back, even though he longed to continue, ached to do so much more than that. Still he studied her; her hair was a soft cloud around her face, her face so deliciously flushed, her lips parted. ‘You’ve had lovers, though.’

‘Not many. Well, two.’ She bit her lip and looked away. ‘The boy from high school, of course—’

‘In a drunken fumble you barely remember?’

She shrugged. ‘And once, when I’d left university, just to see if I could still feel anything.’

His heart twisted inside him. ‘And could you?’

She glanced back at him, her eyes heartbreakingly wide. ‘No. Not then.’

‘And now?’ He cupped her breast again through the damp silk and she let out a breathy sigh of pleasure.

‘Now, sometimes I wonder if I feel too much.’

An admission that gave him a primal feeling of pleasure, of power. He’d made her feel again. He’d been the one to wake her up. ‘I think I might need to challenge that assertion,’ he murmured and kissed her again, deeply this time, holding nothing back.

He felt her brief hesitation and then she responded, kissing him back with just as much passion, just as much wild, raw feeling that it made him want her even more simply because she wanted him. Olivia’s response to him was the most powerful aphrodisiac he’d ever known.

She slid her leg between his, drawing him closer, and he slipped a hand between her thighs, pushing the negligee up so she was bare to the waist.

She stilled, but only for a moment. Then her hands went to his belt buckle, trembling as she fumbled with the clasp. Aziz helped her and then he drew off her clothes as well as his own so they were both wonderfully naked.

‘You’re perfect,’ he murmured. He leaned down and kissed her tummy and then, because he wanted to, needed to, he moved lower.

Olivia stilled, her hand still tangled in his hair. ‘Aziz...’

‘Perfect,’ he said again, and kissed her between her thighs.

Olivia felt her body arch up of its own accord, her breath coming out on a ragged gasp as he kissed her again, spreading her legs open with his hands.

The feelings rushed through her like colours, an intense rainbow of sensation that blurred her thoughts into one single, shining realisation of how much Aziz was showing and giving her.

She felt his mouth on her again and once more she reared up, her breath now coming in shallow pants. She’d never known anything like this, felt anything like this, ever, and it made her want to cry and laugh and sing all at once.

‘Aziz,’ she choked, because that was the only word she could form. The only thought she could think. She was teetering on a precipice of pleasure, longing to tumble right into it but a little afraid as well. This was so much.

It felt like everything.

‘I’m right here,’ he said, his voice ragged, and he drew back for one heart-stopping second before he slid inside her, filling her right up.

She’d never felt so close, so connected to another person. Never felt so loved.

This has nothing to do with love.

Her mind made one last, frantic insistence but her body refused to agree; her body sang with the joy of Aziz’s touch, everything in her opening up, seeking light.

Aziz began to move, his hands on her hips to encourage her to match his rhythm, which she did instinctively, easily, both of them climbing higher and higher, reaching...

And then she did reach that apex of pleasure, all the tightly held parts of herself seeming to loosen and spin away so all she could do was feel. Feel every emotion she’d denied for so long. It was so intense and amazing, she cried out, tears starting in her eyes, her body wrapped around Aziz’s. In that moment she never wanted to let him go.

As the wave of pleasure subsided to ripples she lay back against the pillows, her skin slick and damp, Aziz’s weight a comforting heaviness on top of her. He kissed her forehead and then her lips before rolling off her, one hand still across her stomach, as if he didn’t want to let her go.

And she didn’t want him to. She thought she’d been changed before, had been opened up, her feelings stirred to life, but she’d had no idea. No clue as to what she’d been missing, what she needed.

She turned to Aziz, wanting to say something of all she felt but unable to put it into words. He must have seen some of it in her eyes, however, for he drew her to him once more, fitting her body so easily to his, and kissed her softly.

Olivia kissed him back, felt his heart beat against hers. Sometimes, she thought, you didn’t need words. Sometimes they weren’t enough for something that had been so emotional, so incredible.

So wonderful.

She laid her head on Aziz’s shoulder and eventually they both slept.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

‘A HONEYMOON?’ OLIVIA REPEATED in surprise. ‘Is that really...necessary?’

‘I’m afraid it is.’ Aziz sat across from her at the breakfast table in one of the smaller dining rooms of the palace. Dressed in a navy blue suit, his hair still slightly damp from the shower, it was hard to believe he’d made love to her until nearly dawn last night. Their wedding night.

Now, in the cold light of day, Olivia felt all her old uncertainties return. Once again, Aziz felt like a stranger. And, even though her body burned to remember his touch, her mind scurried for self-protection. She couldn’t let him know how much last night had affected her. He’d probably be appalled if he found out.

‘Why?’ she asked as Aziz poured them both coffee.

‘It’s best if we both stay out of sight for a few days. My marriage has been announced, but not the name of my bride.’

‘But everyone will assume—’

‘It’s Elena. Yes, I know.’ He gave her a rather grim smile. ‘This is going to a very delicate diplomatic manoeuvre.’

‘So how do you intend to announce it?’

‘I want to speak to Khalil first and arrange for Elena’s release.’

‘You make it sound easy.’

‘No, just necessary. Now that I’m married he has no reason to keep her. I hope he’ll be able to see sense and put aside this desire for revenge.’

‘Maybe it’s not revenge motivating him,’ Olivia said slowly, and Aziz swung his gaze back to her.

‘What, then?’

‘Maybe, like you, he wants to redeem the past. You were both treated badly by Hashem, in different ways.’

Aziz felt himself bristle. ‘He was banished because he was not Hashem’s son.’

‘But he thought he was, and that had to have hurt him terribly. He lost everything he ever knew, Aziz, and he was just a little boy.’

‘He lived a life of luxury in America,’ he said stiffly. ‘I’m sorry if I can’t feel sorry for him.’

‘I’m not asking you to feel sorry for him,’ Olivia answered after a moment. ‘I don’t care about Khalil, to be honest. But...’ She let out a soft breath. ‘I care about how he affects you. Maybe there is a way to put this conflict to rest, to find peace, not just for Kadar but for you and Khalil.’

He let out a hard laugh. ‘Peace with Khalil? Never.’

‘It’s not like you to be so bitter or unforgiving, Aziz,’ she protested.

‘You don’t know—’

‘What? Tell me.’ She held her breath, wanting him to share something of himself. Wanting to understand him, to help him.

Because she was falling in love with him. And she didn’t know how to stop.

Her fingers gripped her fork and she laid it down on the table; she couldn’t eat anything anyway.

‘Nothing,’ Aziz said, his tone final. ‘It doesn’t matter. In any case, we don’t need to talk politics now. We can enjoy ourselves, for a few days, at least.’

She nodded, knowing she needed to let it go, at least for now. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To another royal palace, this one on the coast. It’s in a very remote and beautiful spot. I’m sure you’ll love it.’

‘I don’t have any clothes or cosmetics.’

‘Everything you need will be provided.’ He hesitated, his face so very bland. ‘Unless you wish to return to Paris for some reason? The terms of our agreement allow—’

‘I don’t,’ she said, hating the thought of that legal document that defined their marriage in such businesslike terms. ‘Although I probably should at some point. I’d like to get my things.’

‘Of course. You can go back whenever you like, assuming you have no royal duties.’

She stared at him, half-wanting to ask him if he’d miss her, or if he wanted her to go. Maybe he’d rather have her out of the way. She had no idea what he felt, and it seemed absurd to think he’d feel anything, when they’d been no more than employer and employee for six years. This relationship, this marriage, was so very new and strange.

‘It’s settled, then.’ Aziz rose from the table. ‘I’ll meet you in the grand foyer in an hour. We’ll travel to the coast by helicopter. There’s a helipad at the back of the palace.’

She nodded, her mind still whirling, and Aziz strode from the room.

An hour later they were in a helicopter high above the desert, the Arabian Sea jewel-bright in the distance and sparkling with sunlight.

Aziz had told her it would only take an hour to get to the palace, and Olivia spent the time gazing out of the window, entranced by the starkly beautiful scenery. The desert terrain was scattered with huge, black boulders, like misshapen marbles tossed from a giant’s hand. As they drew closer to the sea, the craggy, forbidding coastline came into view. The palace, Aziz had said, was hidden in its own private cove, inaccessible except by helicopter or boat.