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“You,” he repeated approvingly, sliding his hands over her breasts as he nipped little kisses up her neck, “are a wanton.”
With a tug, he pulled the white cotton dress up and over her shoulders and threw it down on the earth. She sat in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. She looked down at their naked intertwined bodies in the firelight. As he started to move against her, the soft sound of her gasps soon matched the cries of the wind outside.
The tension coiled low in her belly as he slid over her. Pleasure built inside her and then, suddenly, he lifted her up and impaled her with a single deep thrust. She gasped at the depth of his penetration.
He hadn’t just filled her body. He filled her soul.
She gripped his shoulders and let the ecstasy build inside her, higher and higher. Even when the euphoria finally ripped her to shreds, exploding her into pieces, she kept her secret hidden inside.
I love you.
I will always love you.
She couldn’t speak the words. She knew they changed nothing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FOR an instant Kareef was afraid he’d hurt her. Then she moaned, swaying against him, tightening her legs around his waist as he filled her.
He gasped at that movement, at the way her full breasts brushed against his chest. Then he pushed her down again, thrusting inside her, filling her so deeply a growl escaped the back of his throat.
Firelight cast shadows over her beautiful face, her full, swollen lips, and the long dark eyelashes tightly closed in an expression of joy. Watching her, he held his breath with the effort it took to hold himself back.
He was inside her, but she was the one who filled him.
Jasmine. Her beauty. Her boundless sensuality. She swayed against him with the decadent grace of a houri. Beads of sweat were like clear pearls on her white, swanlike neck as she leaned back, gasping. The veil of her dark, glossy hair cascaded down her back, swinging back and forth as she kept her eyes closed, panting for breath.
Lifting her head with his hand, he kissed her. She gasped her pleasure against his mouth, gripping his shoulders, biting into his flesh with her fingernails, marking him in her own act of possession.
The force of his taking was primal—unstoppable. He heard her cry out and could hold back no longer. He gripped her against his body as he poured himself into her with a shout.
He collapsed back on the red blanket, holding her against him. He did not know when he woke. She was still sleeping in his arms.
They were both naked. The fire was dying. The night was growing cold, the darkness growing around them.
He felt her shiver. He looked down at her face. She was sleeping, her cheek pressed against his chest. Her beauty went beyond her dark hair or perfect pink lips. It went deeper than her pale skin with roses in her cheeks.
Even after all the times he’d made love to her, he did not feel satiated. And he was starting to fear he never would be.
He did not want to divorce her.
Silently, Kareef withdrew himself from beneath her body and rose to his feet. Crossing the cave, he pulled a second blanket from the horse’s pack. Crawling back beside her, he covered them both with it, wrapping her in his arms. He knew, even in sleep, he would not let her go.
Growing drowsy, he looked down at her sleeping against him. He wanted her like this every night. In his bed. At his table. On his arm. Charming diplomats with her beauty. Dancing in his arms.
With her beauty and gentle grace, Jasmine would be the perfect queen. But…
His jaw tightened as he stared at the dying fire.
He still had to divorce her. He had to provide an heir of the blood. The Al’Ramizes had reigned Qusay for a thousand years. His cousin Xavian had given up the throne when he’d learned he was a changeling, a substitute for a lost Al’Ramiz child.
Blood meant everything. It gave the Al’Ramiz men the right to rule. Not just the right—the obligation. And Jasmine could never become pregnant with his child.
His throat became tight. He looked away, staring at the bumps and rocks of scattered earth illuminated by the fading embers of the fire. Outside, he could hear the rattle of the sand against the solid rocks of the cliffs, hear the wind wailing in disappointed fury as it slowly died.
He slept fitfully, holding her tight.
“Kareef.” Her naked body stirred in his arms. “Are you awake?”
Her voice was like a dream, full of sweet warmth, offering such peace. He slowly opened his eyes.
At the mouth of the cave, above the piles of new sand, he saw the gray light of dawn creeping over the western mountains. The wind had died down. The desert was calm. He could hear the plaintive sound of morning birds, hear the soft whinny of the stallion hungry for breakfast.
It was morning. The storm was over.
Their time was over.
Unwillingly, he turned to Jasmine. Her face was like cool water, a balm to his spirit. Her brown eyes reflected deep pools of light. But it only made the pain worse.
He did not want to let her go.
“It’s barely dawn,” he lied softly. His arms tightened around her. “Go back to sleep.”
For a moment, she rested against him, and silence fell in the cool darkness of the cave. Then she shifted in his arms and her head popped up to look down at him. “Do you think your men are looking for us?”
“Yes,” he said. “They will be here soon.”
He heard her intake of breath, felt her pull away from him on the blanket. When she spoke, her voice was curiously flat. “Then it’s time.”
“Time?”
“Time for you to divorce me.”
He looked up at her. Her expression had turned to stone, the pools of light shuttered and gone. She glanced over at the black fabric now crumpled on the other side of the cave.
“I know you have the emerald,” she whispered.
“Yes,” he said, his jaw tight. “I brought it with me.”
“So eager to be rid of me?”
“I promised to set you free.”
She lifted her chin, her expression a mixture of bravado and pain. “So do it.”
Kareef’s hands tightened into fists.
Jasmine was right. It was time. The storm was over, and his men were no doubt grimly combing the desert. Soon, they’d be found, and Kareef would return to Shafar. Back to the royal palace, back to his endless duties. He would be hosting a royal banquet tonight.
Then, tomorrow, he would attend the Qais Cup. And witness the wedding of Jasmine Kouri to Umar Hajjar.
It was dawn. The magic was over.
“Kareef?” Jasmine looked at him, her eyes swimming with misery.
She felt the same as he did, he realized. She did not want this divorce.
The knowledge flooded him with sudden strength.
So he would not give her up. Not yet. He wasn’t done with her yet.
“No,” he growled. “I won’t speak the words yet.”
“But Kareef,” she choked out, “you know you must!”
“Must?” He sat up. His shoulders straightened as his whole body became as unyielding as steel. He looked down at her, as selfish and ruthless and harsh as any ancient sultan.
“There is no must,” he growled, lifting his chin as his eyes glittered down at her. “I’m the king of Qusay. And until I release you, you belong to me.”
You belong to me.
Jasmine shivered at the words. She could not deny them. She did belong to Kareef. She always had, body and soul.
But he was king of Qusay. He could not keep a barren woman as his bride. And she couldn’t openly remain his mistress. Such a scandal would make the one thirteen years ago seem like nothing.
Jasmine closed her eyes with a shuddering breath. She’d returned to Qusay to help her family, not ruin them again! And how could she stab Umar in the heart with such a public humiliation, after everything he’d done for her?
They had to divorce. They had to part. There was no other way. If she allowed herself to be with Kareef as she wished—if she allowed herself to be selfish—it would destroy everyone she loved. She looked up at Kareef.
Already, a team of his bodyguards was searching, no doubt panicked that their king had disappeared in the sandstorm.
Was that a helicopter she heard in the distance now?
No, she told herself frantically. Not yet!
But she had to face the hard truth. Their sweet, stolen time was over.
Pushing away from Kareef’s warmth, she rose numbly to her feet. It was too late for her panties—they’d been annihilated in the fire—but she pulled on her white cotton bra, which she found on the floor of the cave.
“You don’t need that,” Kareef said, lying back against the blanket. “We have hours yet. It’s barely dawn.”
She didn’t answer.
Kareef pushed himself up on one elbow. “Jasmine.”
She didn’t look back. She was afraid if she looked into the basilisk intensity of his gaze, she would be caught by his magic once again and lose her own ability to do what must be done. Even now, her body shook with the effort of defying him—and worse, defying her own deepest longings.
She found the white cotton dress, now dirty and with tiny rips in the eyelet lace, crumpled behind a rock. It seemed eons since he’d pulled it off her body.
So much had happened since then. Entire worlds had changed.
She felt his gaze, but wouldn’t turn to meet his eyes.
Naked, he sprang lightly to his feet, like a warrior. Taking her in his arms, he forced her to turn around and meet his gaze. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She swallowed. “Thank you for these beautiful days in the desert,” she whispered, feeling like her heart was splitting, bleeding in her chest. “I will never forget them.”
“Our time is not over.”
Trembling, Jasmine closed her eyes. It would be easier to say this if she didn’t have to look at his beautifully masculine face, at his sensual mouth, at his eyes of endless blue. He took her heart apart in his gaze.
“It is over,” she whispered. “We are over.”
She felt his shock. Felt his hands go slack before he tightened his grip painfully around her. “Look at me.”
She wouldn’t.
“Look at me!”
Compelled to obey, she opened her eyes.
His face was dark with fury.
“You are mine, Jasmine. For as long as I want you.”
Her throat went dry. How she wished it could be true, wished she could be his forever—or for even one more night!
“How?” she replied hoarsely. “How can I be yours, Kareef?”
His eyes darkened and cooled until they were like a thousand storms over the Arctic Sea. “You bound yourself to me long ago.”
“Kareef—”
“You will not marry him tomorrow. It is too soon!”
Her tortured eyes flickered up at him. “What would you have me do, then? Desert Umar at the altar? Be your mistress? Leave my family to their ruin?”
His jaw clenched. “We could keep our affair a secret—”
“There’s no such thing at the palace!” she cried. “Here in the desert, perhaps, with only your trusted servants, we could keep it quiet for a short while. But you know as well as I do that there are no secrets at the royal palace. There’s likely gossip about us already. I’ve already caused my family so much pain, and now my little sister is pregnant. How could my parents ever hold up their heads in the street, if I let myself be branded as your whore?”
Air hissed through his teeth.
“No one would call you that,” he raged. “You would be respected as my…as my—”
“As your what? As your wife? We cannot remain married. You know we cannot!”
His eyes glittered down at her. “I can do as I please. I am the king.”
