Arif tried to keep his speed under ninety on the drive back to the palace. Christine still smelled of sex, and his erection would not go down. He almost took her hand and put it on him, but he could wait. He kept telling himself that. He debated between going to her room or taking her to his and realized at the front door that while her room would offer fewer interruptions, his room had the condoms.
Taking her hand, he led the way, his heart pounding, nervous as a groom on his wedding night. His rooms overlooked the desert, and like all the royal quarters in the palace offered a sitting room and a bedroom with en suite bath. His also had an adjoining office. Once he had Christine inside his rooms, he leaned against the door and watched her.
She had buttoned her shirt unevenly, and her hair looked as if a sandstorm had swept through it. He could not imagine anything more beautiful. She walked the perimeter of the room touching things, as if they would reveal secrets to her fingertips. She stopped and absently turned the sapphire ring on her finger.
What did she see? A masculine room in dark reds and browns and golds, heavy leather chairs, and a bare tile floor. His diploma from Oxford—he'd taken a first in history—hung on the wall, and a few trophies from rugby tournaments gleamed in one display case. He kept a photograph of his parents—one from their wedding day—and a prayer rug, but otherwise the room seemed almost bare to him now.
He needed a woman in his life—someone to care for him. A woman such as his Christine, who would love him for himself and not for his position in Zahkim.
She glanced at the photo of his parents and looked over her shoulder at him, eyebrows lifted with a question.
He shrugged. "It is one of the things that binds me to my cousins, to Tarek and Nasim. We all lost our parents far too young. Tarek's grandmother raised us all, really."
"How?" she asked.
He came to her, took her hand, and led her into the bedroom. "This is not a day for sad memories."
She nodded, pulled away, and started to unbutton her shirt. Arif went into the bathroom, had to search for his condoms, and prayed they were not too old—Nasim was the man who always had fresh ones. He came back to find Christine lying on his bed, her pale skin a contrast to the red brocade bedspread, the sunlight picking out gold and red lights from her curls, both those on her head and between her legs. The breath caught in his chest.
He almost stumbled.
He shed his clothes as he came to her, and when he shucked off his shoes and pants, she propped herself up on her elbows, her eyes wide. "You're a little—"
"Nothing little." He palmed his jutting cock.
With a smile, she looked up at him. "I was about to say a little big. I'm not sure."
Taking her hand, he put her fingers on him. She gave a small gasp, and then her fingers wrapped around him, stroked his cock. Her voice took on an edge of wonder. "It's so…soft. And hard at the same time."
She wet her lips and looked up at him. "Maybe I should just…" Rolling up to her knees, she didn't finish her words. She took him in her mouth, and Arif could only gasp. He'd wanted to bury himself in her—to take her and give her pleasure. But he could no more stop this than he could stop his heart. She licked and sucked at his cock, and her fingers swept up his thighs to stroke his balls. He gave a groan and put one hand on her shoulder to steady himself.
"You will be the death of me."
She gave a laugh that he felt along the length of his shaft, and then she took him deeper. With a sharp groan, he pushed into her mouth. She seemed able to take him, and then he came, the wave of pleasure strong and sharp. Pulses ran through him. His hips jerked again, and he tried to pull back, but Christine put one hand on his ass and wouldn't let him move.
Slowly, he came back down, sweat cool on his skin, his breathing ragged.
Christine pulled back, looked up at him from lowered lashes, and licked her lips. "My boyfriend in college used to like that."
Jealousy swept through Arif like a wildfire. "Boyfriend?" The word came out clipped and harsh. Of course she must have dated before, but he hadn’t expected to have to think about it.
Christine sat back on her heels, her hands in her lap, her cheeks pink. "What? Do you think I'm a virgin?" She lifted her chin.
A shock ran through him. Why would she bring this up, unless…
He stared at her, eyes narrowed. "You are—aren't you?"
Red flamed from her neck to her cheeks. Rolling off the bed, she swiped up her shirt and threw it on. "That is none of your business."
He waved at the bed. "You brought it up. And we almost made love."
She grabbed her pants and stuffed one leg in. "No. We had oral sex, and it was really good, and now you're about to ruin it."
"Ruin?" He stiffened. "You're the one who brought up boyfriends."
Pulling up her trousers, she asked, "And you're some kind of monk are you?" She snatched up her sandals and pointed one at him. The sapphire ring winked in the fading daylight. "This…this is why it’s a good idea to keep some emotional distance. I suck at relationships. And I thought this was just about…about…about a stolen moment for us. I'm not looking for commitment. I have a life back home that I very much like."
Arif crossed his arms over his chest and realized he was naked. He strode into the bathroom to grab a robe. When he came out, Christine had fled.