He stared at her. "That sounds…disgusting."
"It surely is. Now, come on and dance with me again before those poor guys need to take a break from making music."
She dragged him onto the dance floor and called over her shoulder to ask the musicians if they knew any Rolling Stones. Nasim gave them a wave, and they did their best with “Jumpin' Jack Flash.” Ginni threw back her head and laughed, and Nasim knew he wanted that passion, that vibrancy in his bed. And why not? She was, after all, his wife.
When the music ended, he caught her in his arms. "You must be exhausted. Let me take you up to your room." She parted her lips with what looked like a protest about to come out, but he put one finger on them. "You slipped into the palace with Jasmine—you had to have, for that is the only way you could have slipped past the guards. That means she left you here, and you do not have a ride home—or even a home in Zahkim."
"I could always book a hotel room."
"With all the guests who traveled here for the wedding? Bloody unlikely. Stay in the palace…or don't you care to talk business tomorrow?"
She gave a shrug and waved a hand. "If you put it that way—lead the way."
Taking her hand, he did, out of the peacock throne room, down marble halls with their white carved pillars and thick runners, up the stairs, and to the wing that held his palace rooms as well as the guest suites. He had a penthouse in the city, but he quickly decided to take up residence in the palace—at least until this mess got straightened out.
Tarek kept several suites ready for visitors, and Nasim choose the blue suite, which overlooked the gardens. He opened the door with a flourish. She started to step past him, but he caught her arm. Turning her, he put one hand on the back of her neck, kept the other on her arm, and pulled her into an embrace.
She came willingly. Her lips met his and parted. He licked inside her mouth, heard the soft sigh she let out, and he started to walk her backwards. She would be a pleasure to seduce. He wanted to see the curves hinted at underneath the red robes. He wanted to take his time stripping her bare, kissing each inch, exploring, strokin
g, seeing her eyes darken with need, hearing her gasp his name and cry out.
And once he had her fully under his spell, he could figure out if he could make a deal with Leeland Enterprises, one with advantages for low-cost transportation that he could dangle in front of the Sheikh of Dijobuli as an appeasement.
But one moment he had Ginni in his arms, pliant and soft, her mouth hot against his, her skin smooth, and the next she had slipped away from him somehow.
She stood in the doorway to her room, moonlight behind her, her skin gleaming, a smile curving her lips. "It sure ’nough has been a day. And since I'm not really certain we are married, I'm just gonna say g'night, Nasim." She shoved on his chest and caught him off balance. He stumbled back two steps, and she shut the door on him.
Chapter Four
Ginni leaned her back against the door, waiting to see if he'd pound on it or not. She was tempted to open the door again, just to see his face—but if she did, she wasn't all that sure she'd close it on him again. She didn't hear so much as a knock, but she did hear a soft chuckle and his steps hush across the carpet. Relief left her sagging—so did the exhaustion of the day, and a touch of disappointment that Nasim was willing to leave her so easily. It was nice he took her “no” without much of a fuss. Of course, that could be because he was still a touch pissed off at her.
She smiled. Even if he'd been ticked, he'd been great, dancing with her, helping her to dinner like it had been a real wedding for them. That part had been just a little bit magical—lordy, but the man made it hard to say no to him. Straightening, she pushed off the door and started to explore her room.
Turned out it was a couple of rooms—a sitting room with a carved teak desk and side tables, couch, chairs, and a TV hidden away in a wardrobe that glittered with mother of pearl inlay. Carpets in blue with gold medallions woven into them covered the floors. Blue drapes—silk by the gleam of the fabric—hung either side of the windows. A breeze from the open French windows cooled the rooms. No air conditioning, just like the rest of this huge, old, shambling palace, but she'd sleep okay.
Except for thinking about Nasim and his kiss. She touched a finger to her lips. They still felt a touched bruised from that kiss of his and him nipping at them. With a sigh, she glanced at Jasmine's ring. She almost wished this was really her wedding night, so she could call Nasim back and tangle tongues with him again. She kicked off her sandals, twisted the emerald ring from her finger, and slapped it onto a side table.
She was trying hard to save herself for marriage. She'd been engaged but hadn't been able to bring herself to do more than fool around with her fiancé. Turned out, he'd been a tad more interested in the family fortune than he had been in her. He sure as anything hadn't been the one for her, and she figured out soon enough what she'd already known deep down. She'd been in love with being in love. However, she might really be married now. What would Daddy say when he heard about that? And what was she gonna do about it? Well, as Mama always said, don't borrow trouble.
Peeling off her wedding gown and leaving it draped over the back of a chair in the bedroom, she headed for the bath, found a huge shower, a bigger tub; a soak was just what she needed. She'd worry about finding her clothes later—she'd left her suitcase in the car that had brought her and Jasmine to the palace, and it had to be someplace. She hoped.
The soak took the knots out of her neck; the warm water lapped over her skin but didn't quite stop the tingle down below that Nasim had started. Lordy, but that man could kiss. She stroked a finger into herself, rubbed the sensitive nub and thought of him. What would he look like lost to himself? Would he be a demanding lover? She gave a shiver. Maybe he'd be just a touch kinky. Heat washed through her, and she let out a breath. Almost—just almost—she'd let him into her room. But that wasn't wise. She was here on business.
Pulling herself out of the cooling water, she started the water draining and grabbed a thick, white towel to dry herself. She washed her underwear in the sink and left it to dry.
Heading for her bed—also draped in blue and soft as a cloud—she slipped between the sheets naked as a jaybird. She had her phone with her and Wi-Fi good enough to manage a search. Just how did someone get themselves hitched in Zahkim? Finding out the facts was harder than sin—tiny as Zahkim was, she couldn't find much on its laws. She texted Jasmine instead.
“What did you teach me to say at that wedding?”
After that she texted her folks. They thought she was in Zahkim to attend Jasmine's wedding, so she only mentioned how the wedding had been lovely and she was staying to do some sightseeing.
Five minutes later, she got back a smiley face from Jasmine with a file attached. Ginni opened it only to see an image of an ultrasound—Jasmine's unborn baby.
Ginni put a hand over her mouth and just about melted. The baby looked tiny—and precious. And a little more along than a couple of months, since it was clear on the ultrasound image that Jasmine was having a baby boy. No wonder Jasmine had been desperate to get out of a marriage to Nasim. She was right to want to be with her baby's father.
She sent back Jasmine an emoji of flowers and went back to searching on the Arabic Jasmine had made her memorize. She finally got it pieced together, word by word. Under the warmth of the comforter, her skin chilled.
Jasmine had taught her to say, “I offer you myself in marriage in accordance with the instructions of the Holy Koran and the Holy Prophet, peace and blessing be upon Him.”