The Desert Lord's Bride / Wed by Deception: The Desert Lord's Bride. Emilie Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ in every way possible.”

      He smiled down on her. This was working. He’d fulfill his prophecy, savoring her at leisure. He could almost taste it.

      He took a taste of her now. “Say yes, Farah.”

      She melted into him, offering her lips for him to consume, her every muscle and bone saying yes, yes, yes for her.

      When he withdrew to let her make her consent verbal, she gasped, “But I still have to go back home…”

      “No, you don’t, ya gummari.”

      “But I need to change—this dress is fused to my skin, and— man, as if this is even worth mentioning. I need to pack the important stuff. All I have on me are my keys. Right now I’m no one, with no money or passport or even a toothbrush…”

      He swallowed her babbling in another clinging kiss. “Is this a yes?”

      She hissed the pleasure-laden word of capitulation into his mouth. “Yes.”

      He took his fill for as long as he dared to, then pulled back, triumph roaring in his system. “Though I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to this dress, you can change out of it right now. I let my sister use the jet on her trips to and from the States—she’s doing her Master’s and spreading her wings—and she leaves clothes onboard.” He took another taste of those flushed lips as if compelled. “Let’s see, what’s left? A toothbrush. You’ll have a dozen to choose from in a minute. A new passport will be waiting for you when we arrive, as well as anything you can want or need. Then we can fly into Damhoor or Bidalya if you need to pick anything yourself.”

      “But I don’t have money…oh, OK, now I know what tossed salad feels like. Can’t believe I worried about that.” So she remembered she’d be his guest, fully subsidized, of course. “It’ll take a couple of days to get new credit cards issued.” That was what she’d meant? She didn’t expect him to spend money on her? Suddenly her eyes rounded. “Scratch tossed salad. My brain’s milkshake. I’m bringing up credit cards and toothbrushes and not arranging for my absence at work!”

      He withdrew, offered her his phone. “Then go ahead.”

      She shook her head, sat up, looking around for her purse. He retrieved it for her before he sat down across from her again. She got out her own phone with unsteady fingers, pushed a speed-dial button.

      In seconds she said, “Bill, it’s me. No, nothing’s wrong…” She paused as the rancorous grumbling of a bear with a sore paw rumbled on the other end. “Sorry for waking you up. 5:00 a.m.?” Her eyes shot up to him, wide with disbelief. “I—I didn’t realize it was that late.” Another pause. “Yeah, I left the ball early. You didn’t make it at all, huh? Listen, Bill, I’ll just say this and let you get back to sleep. I won’t be coming to work tomorrow— uh, make that today. No—I’m not ill. Since when do I take days off when I’m ill?” A longer pause. “Bill, I’m not taking a day off, I’m taking a vacation.”

      She paused, waiting for Bill to say something. Seemed he was too stunned to respond. She went on. “It just came to me that it’s been seven years since I came to work for you, so we can call this a sabbatical, really. But don’t worry, everything’s in order, and I’m a phone call away if you need to ask me anything. I’ll also have an Internet connection…” She looked at him. He gave an “of course” gesture. “So just e-mail me with urgent stuff.”

      A torrent exploded on the other end. She made the face of someone being forced to listen to a thousand nails scratching on a board. At last she interrupted. “I did give you every reason to believe I’m some sort of an android, but look up my contract and you’ll find out I do belong to the race with those pesky little side benefits called human rights. And of course there is the job description, which we both know I’ve gone far and above beyond.” She fell silent again, but Bill had been duly chastised and spoke now at a volume that didn’t carry beyond the phone’s receiver. “Yeah, it is overdue. Uh, I don’t know how long it’ll be…” She again looked at him. He shook his head, catching his lower lip on the sensuality of open-ended promise. It would be as long as it took to make her an Aal Masood bride. She smiled back, hunger glowing in her eyes before Bill drew her back to their conversation. She smiled again, affectionately this time. “And you take care of yourself.” She lowered her voice and averted her face, smiling as she murmured, “I’ll miss you, too.”

      Shehab felt as if a stinging slap had landed on his cheek.

      And every preconceived opinion of her crashed back on him, blasting away her spell, jogging him back to ugly reality.

      Here she was, the woman who’d treated him to such a kaleidoscope of emotions for the past ten hours, sitting before him, her future lover, talking to her current one, lying to him, to them both, without batting a lid.

      She slid shut her phone and looked at him, elation sizzling in her eyes, looking like a little girl who’d just done something naughty for the first time in her life.

      He struggled to empty his gaze of aggression, to access the desire that was independent of his opinion of her. He felt it only becoming fiercer without the shackles of softness, the brakes of empathy, until he struggled not to rise and pounce on her. He had no idea how he only smiled, opened his arms wide.

      She rose and rushed to throw herself into them, all fairy-tale gown, overpowering femininity and undetectable pretense. But one thing she wasn’t pretending about.

      She couldn’t wait for him.

      He’d make her wait. And when the time was right, he’d end the waiting. He’d sate himself with her. Then, when she’d served her purpose, even as they continued their sham of a marriage, he’d discard her. And he wouldn’t feel bad about it.

      She deserved whatever he did to her.

      Shehab was doing things to Farah she hadn’t known there were to be done.

      All through their flight, he’d proved to her there was no ceiling to the sensations he could make her experience.

      He was now examining her hand as they talked. Shaping each finger with his fingertips, sliding up and down their length, following the outline of each bone and joint, mapping the pattern of each crease and line, testing the resilience of each pad of flesh. She lay back, enveloped in his sister’s cool, white cotton sundress, drenched in the cold sweat of stimulation, tormented, hypersensitive and praying that he’d never stop exposing her to his attention and appreciation.

      Suddenly she interrupted his account about the neighboring Damhoor. “I had no idea hands could be erogenous zones…”

      She started to bite her lip, stopped, sighed. They’d been talking almost nonstop for the past twenty hours, all but for the half hour she’d left to change and shower, followed by two separate half hours when he’d left her to do the same and then take care of other details. He was beyond certain by now that she had no filtering system in her brain to stop inappropriate comments from gushing through uncensored—and he kept assuring her he loved it.

      His smile knocked her breath from her. Ever since she’d accepted his invitation to go home with him, she’d sensed some change in him. A new intensity. As if he’d been holding back and had let go. It had worried her. For about a nanosecond.

      She trusted him, wanted him to feel as intensely about her as she did about him. And his intensity had so many levels and textures, СКАЧАТЬ