ey met in college, actually. It is custom in Zahkim to marry for love. We don't have arranged marriages, generally."
"Really?" The questions started again. Why was the wedding held under the stars? Was the food prepared by the groom’s or bride's family? Was there a dowry or bride contract made? She seemed made of questions.
Arif answered as best he could. He'd never given a thought to most of these things. They arrived back at the palace, and he helped Christine from the limo. She stood on the steps, her hand in his and smiled.
"Thank you. That was wonderful. But what a lot of fuss. I think eloping is a heck of a lot easier."
Arif frowned. Did his bride to be wish him to simply run away with her? That would not go over well within the royal family. But if that was what she wanted… No, he could not do it. They needed a proper wedding to be properly married. For now, however, he was not content to let this night end.
Keeping hold of her hand, he said, "There is one more thing you must see." He led Christine into the palace, down the hallway, and up the old narrow stone stairs. She came with him, for once not hanging back or making excuses to leave. Her boots made no sound on the marble, and his shoes only tapped lightly. The stairway curved and finally opened out at the top of the eastern turret. Arif turned to Christine and swept out a hand. "Behold, Zahkim and all of Al Resab is at your feet."
She dropped his hand and walked to the turret's stone balustrade. "Wow—now that's a view."
The city lights of Al Resab glittered in the distance, almost as bright as the stars that swept a path of light overhead. Perfumed scents from the garden in the middle of the palace drifted up to them. The breeze had died, and the night seemed utterly still, as if the darkness wanted to close around them and shield them.
Coming to her side, Arif stopped next to her. Close enough to smell her scent—something faintly sweet—close enough to feel the warmth from her body, close enough to hear the breath catch in her throat. He put his hand over hers and leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Come into my arms, Christine. Here. Now. With only the moon and stars to see us. I want you so badly, my body aches for the need of you."
Chapter Nine
Christine turned to him. This wasn't smart. She knew that. She also knew what she was doing when she put a hand on his chest and felt his heart jump. The pulse thudded slow and heavy in her neck. She should say no. She should be polite and wise and get back to her research.
But she was suddenly envious of the beautiful Wafa, who'd had such an amazing wedding. Wafa was living her own fairy tale from the Arabian Nights, and Christine had to admit a stab of jealousy had swept through when she'd seen Wafa, seated on silken pillows, looking adoringly into the eyes of her new husband. That was never going to be her fate—she knew that. She was too practical, too wrapped up in trying to help her father, and then she'd have to face the daunting task of establishing her own career—or she'd end up teaching at some small university and barely scraping by. And yet here was Arif offering her one magical night.
It would be wise to say no. She wouldn't have her heart broken when she had to get back to her real life. But with sudden clarity, she knew she'd regret that now. Someday, when she was far older, when the bloom of youth had faded, leaving her without even that attraction, she'd look back on this night and smile—if she said yes.
But she couldn't get the word out.
She put her hand in Arif's.
He shook his head. "No, you must tell me you wish this. If you do not, I will take you back to your rooms and give you a chaste kiss on your cheek, even if it kills me to do so. You must tell me what you want."
"You." She got the word out on a breath.
Stepping back, Arif smiled, his face shadowed by the night and only revealed by the glow of the lights outside the palace walls. She thought he would lead her back down the stairs to her bedroom—or to his. Instead, he took off his black jacket and spread it on the tile floor. His tie went next. His shirt came off, revealing all that sculpted muscle and lean body and tanned skin. Shoes, socks, and pants followed after that, leaving him in black underwear, which he skimmed off his narrow hips.
She felt wanton to be dressed while he stood before her, naked and touched by a sliver of pale starlight. She wanted to match his daring. Reaching behind her, she pulled down the zipper and eased the dress from her shoulders, letting it pool around her feet. She slipped out of the boots and walked to Arif.
He ran his fingertips down her arms, leaving behind a shiver and goosebumps.
Leaning over her, he kissed her shoulder and slipped down the strap of her bra. He did the same to her other shoulder, reached around her, took her in his arms, and kissed her.
His mouth angled over hers. She parted her lips, welcomed the warmth of his body against hers, felt the nudge of his erection. She gave a sigh and gave herself to sensation—to soft lips, bristling beard, nipping teeth, and his ever-questing tongue. He teased and stroked and had her panties soaked with arousal. She wanted him. Now.
She started to drag off her panties, but Arif pulled back and shook his head. He carried her down with him to his pile of clothes, spread her out over them. The tiles still gave off remaining warmth from the heat of the sun, but she shivered again because Arif had unhooked her bra and stretched out beside her.
"Beautiful," he murmured and put his mouth on her breast.
She arched for him. He tugged on one taut nipple, turned to the other one, licked and then took it between his teeth, and teased it hard with small, rapid strokes. His hand glided down her stomach, slipped under her panties and between her legs. Mouth and hand worked on her. An ache rose in her, the need for more. He tormented her even more with soft bites and warm licks of his tongue. With a groan, she grabbed his shoulders. The pressure built inside her—that sweet yearning. She wanted him. Needed him. She moaned. He moved to her other nipple, rolled it in his mouth, took it between his teeth, and pulled back, as if trying to pull the orgasm out of her. His thumb rubbed over her clit, and then he pushed his fingers into her as he had at the ruins.
The world shattered. She gasped and spread her legs wider, needing something to fill her, the ache insistent and pounding through her veins. Shuddering, she moaned. Arif stilled his hand and lifted off her.
She turned in his arms and stroked his erection with one hand. "Now. In me. I want this."
Arif stilled, muttered a curse for condoms that would not magically appear in place, and reached over his Christine to try and find that silver packet in his trouser pocket. He was probably going to ruin this.
"Condom? You brought a condom?" Christine asked.
She was going to think he had planned this seduction, but he had only had wishes and dreams. He shook his head, found the crinkling foil and ripped it open. "I am a man who lives in hope."