"How did you do that?"
She wiggled herself onto him, her breasts swaying, utterly distracting him. "Aikido—it's not just good for fitness. And now…" Swinging her leg up and over, she got herself turned around. Her ass rested in front of him now—a tempting globe. So he put his hands on it, spread her cheeks, and swiped a lick from front to back.
With a groan, she pushed back onto him, pushed herself onto his face, and rubbed. The scent of her drove everything else out of his head. She smelled of the ocean—of an aroused woman. She smelled elemental…and divine. He pushed his tongue up into her, started a slow fucking, in and out, with just his mouth and tongue.
Another wiggle of her hips had him groaning and losing concentration. He tightened his hold on her hips, but she had her fist around his cock now, had one hand stroking firm, and then she put her mouth around him. The world slipped into sucking sounds, into the slap of skin on skin, her slick body sliding over him, her breasts pressed into him. She pulled off him and put his cock between her breasts, caught it there, squeezed herself around him. He pushed his tongue as deep as he could, pressed her into him. He tried to hold on, tried to make her come first, but he couldn't. She squeezed him tighter.
The orgasm burst out of him, shooting down his spine and leaving him almost senseless. Ginni gave a groan, wiggled her hips so he could get to her clit and suck on it. She started to lick the semen from him with broad swipes of her tongue.
Another spasm shook him, and she milked him with her hand, pulled on him, muttering, "Yeah, gimme more, gimme more."
He did, coming a third time, the world whiting out for an instant. And then he was aware only of Ginni lying on top of him, humming softly, and patting his thigh. "Now that's what I call dessert."
He wrapped his arms around her legs. He'd wanted to be inside her—not this. But how could he fault such pleasure as his Ginni could bring? He drifted into dreams of her—of her at his wedding, but with her pulling back her veil, smiling up at him. Then turning and running from him.
He woke cold and abruptly to find his bed empty and Ginni gone. Sitting up, he glanced around. She had left a note on the bed—a scribbled and lopsided happy face.
Nasim fell back on the bed, arms spread wide. Last night had been amazing. But it had left him even more determined to make Ginni his wife in more than name.
Chapter Nine
He would seduce his wife. Or that was his plan. This was no longer about business. She had set herself as a challenge to him. One he intended to meet. She was his wife. He would see she became more than one in name, and then they would talk finally about this bloody stupid deal she wanted for Leeland bloody Enterprises.
But a seduction needed a plan.
It took him two days to arrange everything and every ounce of patience he could muster not to simply walk into Ginni's room and have done with the business. He kept telling himself this would be worth the effort, but a small voice niggled in the back of his mind that he was deluding himself. She had shown no interest in remaining his wife—he had made discreet inquiries and discovered she had contacted several law firms in Al Resab about divorce. He quickly put a stop to such a thing. But she was Aldrich Leeland's daughter—she would have resources back in America to get what she wanted, if what she wanted was her freedom from him. So how did he make her want to stay with him? This was, after all, a point of honor. He could not lose both a bride and a wife within such a short time.
And so he began his seduction of his wife with a tour of Al Resab.
He had sent a midnight-blue evening gown to her room, along with a set of dark sapphires and diamonds for her to wear. She walked down the stairs of the palace, however, in a gold dress that clung to her curves and showed off her legs. He frowned. She was already upsetting his plans—yet again. But she gave him a brilliant smile and her hand, and he found it difficult to bring up the topic of her ignoring the dress he'd sent her.
On the drive into the city, he talked about the sights of Al Resab—the museums, the new hotels Tarek was working to build to lure tourists to Zahkim, the university that Arif wished to expand. Ginni asked questions—didn't she always—about the oil fields, what folks did to earn a living, and then about the city, as the desert gave way to buildings, parks and crowds.
Turning to him, she asked, "Just how many folks live here?"
"In Al Resab? Most of the population of Zahkim—it is the major city. Tarek is thinking of building a reservoir to the north, which would help provide water to grow the capital and provide a water feature for tourists."
She shook her head, her dark curls bobbing. "Oh, no. It's the desert you want to be selling. Folks can get a lake almost any ol' place. Pull in folks tired of the cold by selling the sunbaked sand and the exotic."
He smiled. "Then let me show you some of Zahkim's exotic." He'd taken over the best traditional restaurant in Al Resab. Ginni's eyes widened as they strolled into Dimitri's. She lifted her eyebrows at the menu—all in Arabic.
"Place called Dimitri's—I was expecting borsht, maybe."
He smiled. Snapped his fingers for a waiter, ordered for them and turned to Ginni. "Dimitri came here after the Russian revolution, almost a hundred years ago. His family adopted Zahkim as their own, and this restaurant has become known as having the best traditional food in the entire country."
A waiter came out with a brass pitcher, a basin, and towels so they might wash their hands.
"We will eat with our fingers," Nasim said.
The appetizers came out on trays, and Nasim explained each dish to her—the flatbread baked over charcoal, the bitter herb salad, and the various small bites of food, all spiced delicacies. But when the band began to play—all traditional songs—and the belly dancers came out, Ginni's eyes went wide, and she forgot about the food. She clapped to the faster songs, was urged to her feet by the dancers so they might teach her the moves. Eyes glowing and bright, she tried to copy everything they were doing with their hips and hands. Nasim found himself unable to look away from her. The dancers were the best in Al Resab, but Ginni captured the eye with her vibrancy, her laughter, her energy.
When the song ended and a new one began, she ran to Nasim and grabbed his hand. "Come on, you try it."
He shook his head and pulled her down on his lap instead, stealing a kiss from her. "Men don't dance like that in Zahkim."
"What? Too sissy for you?" Standing, she tugged on his hand, pulled him to his feet and out to the dancers. They seemed only too happy to drape their veils over his shoulders. Ginni put her hands on his hips to try to get him to shake them. He was saved by the arrival of their main courses.
Taking Ginni back to their table, he fed her lamb and chicken baked in pastry. Her lips wrapped around his fingers, leaving him hungry for her, not for the meal. He barely tasted anything she fed him. He wanted her—just her. He forgot about patience, canceled dessert, and instead escorted Ginni to his office in Al Resab, atop the tallest building.