Ali Burkhan, a thirty-something investor in the private education sector, and a friend of Malik’s from when they were teenagers.
Ali smiled. “Indeed.”
“Affordable, and accessible education,” she added meaningfully.
He laughed. “Didn’t we speak about this on the yacht last summer,” Ali drawled, leaning a little closer, so that something inside Malik fired. He didn’t catch the rest of what Ali was saying and now he wished to be nearer to his wife and friend, to be a part of their conversation.
“Excuse me.” He nodded curtly towards the couple he’d been exchanging pleasantries with. The royal couple had been at this affair for three hours. Parliament had officially welcomed his wife, and now he wanted to have her all to himself again.
“And nothing in your policies has changed,” she was murmuring, smiling, an easy, natural smile that was remarkable for two reasons. Her smile was one of the most beautiful things Malik had ever seen. And looking at it now, Malik realised she’d never smiled like that for him.
It was no surprise. They were generally arguing with one another, and yet, he realised now how often she’d smiled and laughed with his brother. How easily she smiled now.
His stomach tightened but he didn’t approach them. He hovered just outside of their range, looking without interrupting.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that,” she added for good measure, the lightness to her tone drawing him in, warming him.
“Have you been checking up on me?”
“Well, your website at least,” she winked, and Ali laughed – Malik, on the other hand, was not amused. He knew enough of his wife’s easy nature to know she wasn’t flirting. Charm came easily to her – she did it without thinking, reflexively. But that didn’t lessen the impact it had on Malik.
Suddenly, as though lightning had pierced his soul, splitting him clear in two, he remembered how close Sophia had come to marrying another man. How he had been so close to living his whole life like this – looking at her from the outside, watching her smile and laugh, with no right to touch her, to kiss her, to hold her, to make her cry his name out.
And a dark, angry guilt churned through him, because his own brother’s death was the only reason they were married. Had Addan lived, she would be his by now, perhaps rounded with his child in her belly.
Frustration gnawed at his insides. She was his wife – it was done. Finished. No matter what should have been her life, they’d found themselves here.
“I think you’ll find, your highness, that we’ve widened our selection criteria and dropped the age of applicants.”
“I did notice that,” she conceded.
“And it is a step in the right direction, yes?”
She tilted her head to the side, feigning deep-thought. “I suppose so,” she murmured, a dimple in her cheek flashing when she grinned at Ali. “But don’t think this lets you off the hook. I’ll be watching you.”
Ali dipped his head forward in a bow. “And I hope to earn your approval.”
Malik stepped closer and Sophia lifted her head, a smile still on her face when she looked at him.
“It is time to leave.”
Her smile disappeared completely.
“Mal,” Ali extended his hand and Malik shook it. Ali was one of the few people who referred to him so casually – and it didn’t occur to Malik to mind. “How’s it going?”
“Fine.” He nodded in curt acknowledgment.
“Her highness here was just trying to guilt me into opening up my scholarship program one-hundred-fold.”
“And I’ve explained why,” she turned back to Ali, smiling once more, though with an air of constraint now. “You have no idea what potential you are limiting by not granting scholarships to intelligent, gifted, but financially impoverished students. What if the person who will cure cancer for good is living in one of the slums to the east?”
“Well, the slums, majesties, rather fall into your domain,” he pointed out archly.
Malik shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It isn’t an easy problem to address.”
“I am only teasing your wife, Mal,” Ali grinned, and Malik was impatient now for this to be at an end.
He lifted his hand to Sophia’s back and felt her tremble in response, and he understood. Heat blazed between them, just as it had in the limousine earlier that evening, just as it always did. Her eyes lifted to his and despite the easy exchange she’d just shared with Ali, there was tension in her expression now. Tension that he understood, because he felt the same.
“Are you ready to leave, your highness?” He murmured, running his fingers over her spine, feeling each ridge, each bump, each little intake of breath. The rest of the world dropped away. Ali was no longer there, nor were the other members of parliament.
She nodded wordlessly, her eyes locked to his, and smiled. A tight smile, forced, nothing like the easy expression she’d offered Ali a moment earlier.
“Then let us leave. Excuse us, friend,” he murmured to Ali, steering Sophia away from the crowds, his expression one that didn’t invite interruption. The doors were opened for them by servants and they moved down the stairs. People were waiting, and they cheered as Sophia and Malik emerged. She smiled, lifted a hand a little to wave, but otherwise stayed right where she was, her body molded to his side, so close he could feel her breathing.
And he kept his hand clamped around her waist, glad she was at his side, but knowing he’d be gladder still when she was in his bed.
Chapter Seven
“HOW DO YOU KNOW Ali?”
They’d left parliament at least ten minutes earlier and neither of them had spoken. Sophia’s heart was in her throat, desire hot and desperate between her legs. She blinked across at her husband, his question unexpected. All she could do was hold her breath and wait – wait to be back in the privacy of the palace and in his arms.
“Through Addan,” she said simply.
But it wasn’t simple. At least, not for Malik. “You mentioned last summer?”
“We spent a week on a yacht with him and some other friends,” she said, shaking her head. “Only a few months before…”
His eyes swept her face thoughtfully. “You and Addan travelled together, and still your relationship never became sexual?”
Heat filled her cheeks. “No.”
“How did he explain that? You had your own rooms, I presume, on this yacht?”
“Addan didn’t explain anything,” she said, stiffly, defensively, when she knew she didn’t need to defend Addan to his own brother. She sighed, turning to look out of the window. “I think it was just accepted amongst our friends that we were waiting until we were married.”
The words hung awkwardly between them.
“That’s absurd.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the twenty first century and you’re two consenting adults…”
“Yeah, well, I think it’s romantic,” she said quietly, not willing to hear anything approaching criticism of Addan. “And are you so very different? Would you not have expected your wife to be some innocent virgin?” Her cynicism was evident in the tone of her voice.
“Until the night my brother died, I had no intentions of marrying anyone.”
She frowned. “Why?”
He frowned. “Why would I?”
“I… because it’s what you do? Because it’s… family?”
“We’re all born alone, Sophia. We die alone. Why commit myself to someone for the rest of my life when I can do what I want? I like freedom. I like… independence.”
Something fogged in Sophia’s mind. A long-ago conversation with Addan.
“He scares me.” She whispered, beneath the sheets, the torch they’d brought with them casting shadows around them.
“Who, Malik?”
“Yes! He’s so… big and he never smiles.”
“People who feel deepest are often the slowest to open up. He doesn’t smile – that doesn’t mean
he doesn’t care. And it certainly doesn’t mean you should be afraid of him. My brother is a good man, Sophia. A better man than I am, and he would have made a far better Sheikh too, except in one vital way.”
“What’s that?” She’d whispered, even though they were alone.
“He will never do what he’s told – and sometimes, as King, you have to.”
She’d been thirteen. The conversation was so clear that for a moment she felt like she was slipping down a slope, with nothing to grab onto.
“How come you married me?” She asked, her heart skidding to a stop in her chest.
Malik stiffened beside her. “Because I inherited the throne.”
“And me,” she nodded, pushing that aside. “But you didn’t want this.”
“No.” He spat the word with such vehemence she was surprised it didn’t hurt more.
“Marriage to anyone? Or me, in particular?”
He turned to look at her, his dark eyes swirling with emotions she couldn’t comprehend. “You were my brother’s fiancé,” he said, after a long pause. “He loved you to the ends of the earth. How could I ever want this?”
Her stomach squeezed. They’d been married a little over a fortnight and the idea of him not wanting her, made her feel as though her lungs were filling with sand. She bit down on her lower lip and looked forward.
“I didn’t want to marry anyone,” he said, after a moment, “But my brother’s death put the Kingdom in a dangerous position. Not having another living heir means the throne would pass, upon my death, to a distant cousin with ties to questionable organisations. The order of succession must be protected.” A muscle jerked in his jaw. “And you were here, legally mine, whether I wanted that or not.”
Pain shimmied inside of her. Desire, hot between her legs, was a traitor now, a sensation she didn’t want, something she didn’t relish. She drew in a gulp of air; it barely reached her lungs.
“I’m sorry you have to endure this, then,” she said coldly, looking away from him.
She heard his exhalation. “It is you who has to endure this. Marriage to a man you didn’t choose, this should never have been your fate.”
“I did choose this,” she said simply. “I chose all of this.”
They didn’t speak the rest of the way to the palace.
At the entrance to the family suites, he put a hand in her back, guiding her towards his room. She didn’t resist, and he was glad. There’d been a part of him that thought, despite the sexual heat buzzing between them, their conversation in the car might have killed her need for him.
It hadn’t.
He pushed his door open and as soon as they were inside, her hands found his chest, her fingers splayed wide as she pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes and kissed him.
It was a kiss of fire and anger, dark emotions making her lips mash his, her tongue move furiously. And he understood.
This was all darkness between them. No wonder she didn’t smile for him.
Even their passion was born of a dark place. It was possessive and resented.
Neither of them wanted to feel this, and yet they did – and it was overwhelming.
He swore in his own language, untying his robes with one hand, fumbling a little as he slipped them from his body, pushing out of his briefs at the same time so he was naked, and desperate to see her naked too. But he was more desperate for her. He needed her in a way that was like fire in his gut.
He grabbed her hips and lifted her, pushing at the layers of her skirt, finding the briefs he’d slipped aside so easily earlier that night.
“Hold this,” He grunted, pushing the layers of skirt into her hand. She took them from him and now he lifted her and kissed her, pushing her back against the cold, hard wall behind him. He spread her legs, his strength great, her body slender. He wrapped her legs around his waist, his eyes watching hers as he nudged the tip of his arousal at her sex.
“Do you want me?” He demanded, his eyes latched to hers.
She laughed, but it was a tortured, rasping sound. “What do you think?”
“I want you to scream my name when you come,” he dropped his mouth to her throat, nipping her flesh there, smiling when she groaned. He pushed his erection forward slightly, and she cried out, ‘yes’, over and over, her nails digging into his shoulders.
“Yes, what?” He pulled back.
“Please,” she groaned, digging her ankles into the small of his back in an attempt to pull him deeper.
“Beg me,” he said simply.
“Why?”
Because you were my brother’s in every way except this. Because I alone make you feel this. Because I want you to admit that in this way, we own each other.
“Because I say so.”
She bit down on her lip and rolled her hips, her arousal at fever pitch.
He could feel her trembling and knew her release would be swift and powerful. He wanted to give her that, he wanted to make her come hard and fast and then he wanted to tease and torment her body all night long, bringing her to the point of explosion again and again until finally letting her fall apart.
“You’re such a bastard,” she groaned.
“A bastard you want inside you.”
She rolled her hips again. “Yes. Damn it, yes. Please, Malik, please.”
His chest burst with an explosion of relief and he thrust into her, so hard and fast that he felt some of his own seed drop into her. With the utmost control, he steadied himself, holding his own pleasure at bay as he thrust into her again and again, watching as she became incoherent with desire, vowing they would never spend another night apart.
“You are moving to my room,” he grunted, as she called his name, finally, over and over, and he thought he’d never heard anything so sexy. “This is where you belong.”
She screamed when she came, pleasure pulling her apart at the seams, her heels digging into his back, her nails scratching his flesh, her teeth clamping down on his shoulder. She was wracked with heavy breathing, the intensity of their coming together exploding around them.
He held her while her breath stilled, he felt the moment passion overtook resentment and he understood why. He’d never made a woman beg for him – though plenty had.
He’d never used sex as a carrot to entice a woman to do what he wanted. He’d never withheld pleasure as a means to compel someone to carry out his wishes.
He would have been ashamed, except it had felt so damned good.
She pulled away from him, lifting her head, looking over his shoulder, her expression showing she was at war with herself. There was a wariness to her he didn’t like seeing. A sense of uncertainty that he wanted to erase.
“Why did you do that?”
He rolled his hips and she jerked, her eyes slashing to his, heavy with desire and sparking with resentment.
He sighed, lifting her away from the wall without breaking their connection.
“I’m serious, Malik…”
Now, when she said his name, it was thick with hurt and that did something inside him. He expelled a breath, kissing her gently as he laid her down on the bed. “I like to know you are thinking of me when we do this,” he said simply.
Her eyes flew wide and resentment gave way to compassion – which he hated. He didn’t want that. But she was giving it to him anyway, pushing up on her elbows and kissing him, her tongue dueling with his, her hands tangling in his hair.
“Who else would I be thinking of?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The ghost of Addan was alive enough for both of them to perceive him.
There was no point speaking his name.
She’d go soon. When her eyes were a little less heavy. And her arms less exhausted. And her… she fell asleep and woke with a start sometime before dawn, disoriented and starving.
It was still dark, but the air had changed. The cool of the evening was being drawn out, and heat was replacing it, thick and stultifying. She moved slightly and came up against som
ething hard and warm.
Her body stilled. She spun in bed and it all came crashing back to her.
She’d fallen asleep in his bed.
And no wonder.
Her pulse began to throb inside of her as memories surged. Memories of the way they’d made love so hard and fast against the wall like two jungle animals. Of the way he’d made her beg for him, and how furious she’d been.
And then, his admission – the reasons it mattered to him. And her heart had burst. She’d felt… she’d felt sympathy and something far more dangerous. Something unwanted and unpleasant.
She’d wanted to hug him.
She’d wanted to tell him she’d never needed another person in the way she did him. That the depth of her physical desire was enough to make her want to walk to the ends of the earth. That she would do just about anything he asked of her, if it meant more of this.
That she was his very willing sex slave, and she wasn’t even sure she cared. But there was so much danger in even admitting that to herself; she couldn’t admit that to Malik. Not yet. He was too much. Too powerful and closed off to her. She couldn’t be vulnerable to him – not more than she already was.
They’d had sex, and then, he’d tormented her body in the best possible way for hours, driving her to the point of oblivion, his mouth moving over her most sensitive nerve endings, teasing her, delighting her, his hands controlling her body, showing him to be a maestro of her in every way.
It had been somewhere near three when she’d exploded, and he with her, their hoarse cries mingling, the sound of release ricocheting around the room. And she’d intended to get up and leave almost immediately afterwards, but he’d clamped an arm around her waist and fallen asleep, and it had felt so good just being there, her body had been weak and exhausted.
But daylight was coming and everything looked different now.
She shifted in the bed a little, moving away from him, watching him, making sure he stayed sleeping. She pushed her feet out and stood, swallowing as she turned away from him. The dress she’d worn the night before had been left on the floor; it was dreadfully crushed, but that wouldn’t matter. She pulled it up silently, dragging her hair over one shoulder and checking her appearance in a small mirror as she approached the door.