A Bed of Sand Read online

  The words slipped from his lips far too easily. “With so much death and destruction in my family, I fear I am dead inside.”

  Yes, far too easily. His gut clenched with shame and he wished for the words back. But Rita was already set on her task. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her leg around his groin and pulled herself to him.

  “I can assure you, you’re very much alive.”

  Sakir’s chest constricted with a tenderness he’d never had before today. He ran his hands down her back to her buttocks and pulled her closer.

  Rita searched his gaze. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I wonder if I am capable of loving. I wonder if I will ever allow myself to fly free.” He wanted to look away as shame gripped him. Men of his rank did not say such things. In fact, they should not even feel such things. “I wonder if I will ever feel trust for anyone again.”

  “Sakir…”

  He shook his head. “I do not say this for answers or for your pity, Rita.”

  “I know that.”

  “I tell you this because I care for you and want you to understand who I am and what I cannot give.”

  He saw her once steady gaze flicker, but she said firmly, “I’ve never asked for anything.”

  “No, but you deserve all.”

  A sad smile touched her beautiful mouth. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

  “You wished for me to tell you my feelings, yes?”

  “Yeah, I did, but not now—not here, not today.” She pressed her hips to him tentatively. “We have almost a week of fantasy left before reality sets in.”

  Sakir released a bitter chuckle. He understood only too well the need to suspend reality for as long as possible. Had he not attempted such a feat with this unsound romance several times before?

  They had two weeks before they returned to the States, and to something resembling reality. Soon enough, he would have to face all those fears, those devices of protection, he had shared with Rita and decide once and for all if he could release his death grip on them.

  “You wish for fantasy?” he asked, a slow grin cutting across his mouth.

  Rita smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

  “Done.” Sakir rolled to his back, lifted Rita up over him and then slowly eased her down on his hard shaft.

  She let out a joyful moan and white-hot pleasure ripped into Sakir. The wet glove of her body seemed to suckle his erection as she began to move, as she ground her hips against him.

  Back and forth.

  Deeper.

  She grabbed his hands, thrust them to her breasts. She arched her back, let her head drop. And she rode him. Hard and intense.

  Sakir couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she slammed her hips against him, thrusting, going wild, her breasts quivering with the movement.

  But the sight was too much for him to bear and he closed his eyes, let his mind run blank, let his body sink into the oblivion of pleasure.

  Rita watched him as he ate his lunch, so perfect, so refined in his manner. She hid behind a potted plant and wondered if she should approach him as he sat before the grand marble table in the most exquisite of atriums. Granted, she wasn’t a meek little mouse. But the guy was a sultan, for goodness sake. Pretty intimidating for a girl from a small ranching town in Texas.

  Then again, she wasn’t the intimidated type.

  Rita took a deep breath, stepped out from her leafy cover and started toward him. But she only made it about five feet before she was grabbed from behind and hauled forward.

  Panic jumped in her blood as she struggled against decidedly Neanderthal-like muscles. “Hey. Let me go! What’s the big idea?”

  Without explanation, she was dragged forward. Her heart was in her throat; she wondered what was about to happen to her. What kind of punishment she would receive for approaching the Sultan of Emand unannounced?

  “Your Royal Highness.” The very low, masculine voice came from just behind her left ear, from the Neanderthal. “This woman has been watching you.”

  Zayad Al-Nayhal turned casually and gave Rita an inquisitive smile. “Is this true, Rita?”

  “Can this guy let me go, please?” Rita said tightly.

  “Of course.” Zayad motioned to the man behind her. “The princess wishes to be released.”

  “Princess…” The man sputtered, then quickly stepped back.

  “And for the record, I wasn’t watching you.” Rita sniffed proudly. “I was waiting for you to finish your lunch before I came to talk to you, that’s all.”

  Zayad nodded at his servant. “You may go now, Laul.”

  Rita glanced back just in time to catch a glimpse of her captor. Big, brawny and totally bold, Laul bowed low, then turned and left the room.

  “I apologize for my servant’s brutish behavior.” Zayad lowered his head a fraction. “But one cannot be too careful.”

  “When one is in power, is that it?”

  Zayad smiled. “You understand.” He motioned to the chair beside him. “Would you care to join me?”

  She arched a brow. “Will I have to be strip-searched beforehand?”

  His grin widened. “I will leave such a pleasure to my brother.”

  Heat shot into Rita’s cheeks.

  Zayad chuckled. “Please sit down. What can I do for you?”

  Struggling to gain her composure, Rita took a deep breath and dropped into the chair beside him. “I want to talk about you and Sakir.”

  The smile fell away from the sultan’s face. “As you have seen and no doubt heard, there is no love lost between brothers.” His gaze clouded with pain, but remained steadfast on hers. “He believes me responsible for our brother’s death and will not hear my opinion on the matter.”

  “I know. He told me.”

  “So if you do not come for answers, what do you come for?”

  “The thing is, Your Highness, I believe that the circumstance surrounding Hassan’s death isn’t the real reason for Sakir’s antagonism.”

  Zayad looked startled, though intrigued. “No?”

  She shook her head. “I think he’s scared.”

  Zayad snorted and puffed up his chest. “The men of my family do not feel fear, my sister.”

  Rita rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s ridiculous.”

  Zayad’s black eyes hardened, and for the first time since she’d met him, Rita felt very small and very insignificant. But she forced herself to remain calm and focused. She was here to make Zayad understand where his brother was coming from, because the spirit of the man she was in love with was at stake.

  “You lose your mother, your father and your little brother,” she began gently, “and you don’t feel scared about losing the only other member of your family you’ve got left?”

  This seemed to interest Zayad, though his supercilious attitude remained. “Explain further.”

  “Sakir has lost everyone he’s trusted and loved. He takes off from the only home he’s ever known and hasn’t spoken to the one remaining member of his family in years. Why?” She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. “It can’t be just because he’s angry with you. He could be angry with you from here. He went halfway around the world, Zayad. Think about it.”

  Zayad looked thoroughly perplexed.

  “If something happened to you,” Rita explained. “He wouldn’t be around—he wouldn’t be here—to feel it. If he despises you, if he convinces himself that you’re responsible for Hassan’s death, he won’t feel the pain of losing another family member if that should happen.”

  Zayad shook his head. “How do you know this? Has he said—”

  “He’s never come out and admitted such a thing. He has too much pride.”

  Zayad nodded, his eyes deep with understanding.

  Rita took a breath. “But I know him. I know what’s going on inside him.”

  “And you love him.”

  It was a statement, not a question, but Rita felt herself nod.

  Za
yad was quiet for a moment, his fingers playing with the beads of water inching their way down the sides of his crystal tumbler. Then he turned back to her. “I must speak to him of this.”

  “No, you can’t,” Rita insisted, coming to her feet. “He would never forgive me for talking to you about this.”

  Zayad threw up his hands. “What would you have me do, then?”

  “Just try and understand him. For now. Please.” Her gaze implored him. “Know that he cares for you and this country more than you’ll ever know. Know that in time, he’ll make peace with you and with the past.”

  His jaw tight, Zayad said, “He must.”

  As Rita walked away from the formidable Sultan of Emand, she hoped to God she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life. She hoped that her concern for Sakir’s heart, and his future with his homeland, people and family hadn’t driven her to create more problems, when all she’d wanted to do was make peace.

  He had spent the day in meetings with members of Emand Oil’s environmental group. But that hadn’t stopped Sakir’s mind from conjuring images of her, of last night, of this morning.

  His chest went tight, as did the rest of him, as he took the palace steps two at a time. Anticipation filled him. More than anything, he wanted to be with Rita—alone, naked, fulfilled. But he would have to be content with seeing her face, perhaps kissing her sweet mouth, and postponing all sensual pleasures until later. His brother was expecting them for dinner tonight.

  A frown threatened his good humor as he strode the hallway, but he forced his anger at Zayad away. He was going to her now. Yes, that had his smile returning full force.

  He chuckled. Never in his life had he experienced such a pull. They were like moon to tide.

  He chuckled once again at the foolish thought, his hand on the doorknob. He would do well to abandon all pangs of romance, concentrate on the real reason he was here in Emand.

  Impossible.

  When he opened the door, candlelight, driving music and the sensual scent of vanilla met him. The shot of anticipation from a moment ago intensified and all puny thoughts of work disappeared.

  There were fifty or so candles in small glass jars lighting a pathway through the suite. Like Hansel and Gretel, a very curious Sakir walked the pathway, all the way through the living room, into the bedroom and out onto the large private terrace.

  After that, Sakir noticed nothing. No candles, no scents or sounds. No desert or wind or falling stars.

  Nothing but the half-naked woman before him.

  Dressed in the native costume of an Emand Saka dancer, Rita smiled coyly at him. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I would say that it is.”

  With just that beautiful and highly seductive smile, she took his hand and forced him to sit down in a chair at the table.

  The desert breeze blew around them, and he only noticed because it blew the blue gauzy skirt up her amazing thighs.

  He licked his lips.

  Then she began to dance.

  A slow, swaying movement that only the ancient women of the Saka knew. How she was able to learn the dance, he knew not—nor did he care at that moment, for the music was enveloping the space, the sway of her hips was turning his brain to water and everything below his waist to rock-hard need.

  Sakir was famished. Not for the wine or the olives and sweetmeats on the plate before him, but for the woman who danced with such abandon—her waist so small, her barely covered breasts rising and falling, her face so happy as she stared at him.

  “Rita, please…” He stood, held out his hand. “I have had all I can take.”

  She grinned, danced to him, thrust out her right hip playfully. “You do not enjoy the dance, Your Highness?”

  His gaze went lethal. “I enjoy it very much, Princess.”

  “But?”

  He growled, warned her again. “Rita…”

  “I have prepared a few hors d’oeuvres before dinner,” she said, then asked coyly, “Are you not hungry?”

  Sakir picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. “Famished.”

  Rita laughed.

  At least until he had her on the bed, that filmy skirt up to her waist, her panties down to her ankles—and his tongue in a most heavenly spot.

  Thirteen

  Rita woke up beside her husband and smiled with happiness. Just lying there, with his nude, dark and heavily muscled body mashed deliciously up against her own, she felt like sighing.

  Sakir made her feel so young and sexy and thankful to be alive. All those years of wishing that her gorgeous boss would notice her—or, if we’re getting real about it, take her in his arms and make mad, passionate love to her—had not been in vain.

  That wish had certainly come true.

  For how long, she wasn’t certain. But she was content with that. Had to be. She had gone into this love affair with her eyes wide open and she refused to act sad and worried about a future she couldn’t control. She would enjoy right now, every moment.

  “Good morning.”

  So intent on her thoughts, Rita hadn’t noticed that Sakir was awake and staring at her.

  His green eyes nearly drank her in. “What shall we do today?”

  She bent down, nuzzled his neck. “We could always do more of this.”

  A husky moan eased from his throat. “I would be honored, Princess.”

  “But, then again…” She smiled.

  Sakir paused, glanced up, his brow arched. “What are you thinking of?”

  With the excitement of a little kid, Rita jumped on top of him, straddled him, grabbed his hands and squeezed. “I want to take you somewhere.”

  Falling easily into her play, Sakir grinned. “We can go anywhere in the world you wish.”

  “No, I mean here, in Emand. There’s something I have to show you.”

  “How could this be? You do not know Emand—”

  She leaned forward, her face just inches from his. “I’m full of surprises, Your Highness, you should know that by now.”

  He pulled her to him, kissed her on the mouth. “I do not like surprises.”

  She chuckled. “Why is that?”

  “I wish to know the outcome at all times.”

  “You can’t possibly know the outcome every time.”

  “I said it is my wish.”

  Her smile wide, she leaned down again, brushed her lips across his. “Sakir,” she whispered, then gave him a thorough kiss—one hot, wet, teasing kiss that lasted a good thirty seconds. Her skin warmed and she thought herself very powerful as she felt him hard and jutting against her thigh. Finally, she sat up and asked, “You want to be in control, is that what it is?”

  His eyes burned with the fire of a man who needed release. “Perhaps.”

  She took his hands and spread his arms back over his head. “Letting others take control now and then can be a very pleasant experience, you know?”

  He lifted his head, opened his mouth and ran his tongue across her nipple. “You must convince me further.”

  Rita sucked in a breath at the intense pleasure of his touch. Her body tight with electricity, she gave him a decadent smile. “Well, our adventure can wait an hour or so.”

  Sakir grinned, tightened his grip on her. “You are a wise and wonderful woman, Rita Al-Nayhal.”

  His words swam over her, but she didn’t analyze them. She was too busy melting as Sakir lifted his head, took her nipple into his mouth, suckled…

  “You may be wise and wonderful, but you are also a reckless driver.” The comment came from Sakir, who was now sitting in the passenger side of a black SUV, fully dressed and masked with that I-am-royalty-and-above-it-all attitude.

  Rita felt the need to correct him. “I am a confident driver, you mean.”

  He fairly snorted. “No, I believe reckless is the correct description.” He shook his head. “I should have never allowed you to—”

  “Allowed me?” she began with mock severity.

  “Af
ter this driving experience, yes—allowed.” He threw his hands up. “When we made that turn back there the car was suspended on two wheels—”

  “Oh, c’mon.”

  “Did you not almost hit that bush right afterward?”

  “I tapped it a little bit.”

  “If I was tapped like that, I would be dead.”

  She turned and looked at him, then burst out laughing. He followed suit with a rather carefree chuckle.

  Rita turned back to the desert road. Was it possible that the sober, always-in-control, rarely-found-life-amusing Sakir Al-Nayhal had changed? And in her care?

  Was she too bold to think that she had something to do with this new light and loving side of him? And if she did have something to do with it, would she be responsible for bringing it out of him always—like back in Paradise, back home—

  She mentally rolled her eyes. That was a ridiculous thought, not to mention an incredibly sneaky way of allowing herself to hope for a future, a way to stay near and dear to the man she was desperately in love with.

  “Are we almost at our destination, Rita?”

  She smiled at him. “Be patient.”

  “Impossible.”

  She laughed. “Just give it your best shot, all right?”

  It was barely ten minutes later when Rita pulled over to the side of the road. Sure, it had been a long drive, but to her, the journey had definitely been worth it. Lord, just for the view alone.

  The beautiful Bari Mountains stretched out before her. She took a deep breath and smiled. This land never ceased to amaze her. Mountains and deserts and the palm tree forest and waterfalls. Oh, how much she would love to bring her sister and father here.

  She stopped herself from traveling farther with that thought. Emand belonged to Sakir and his family, which she was not part of—not really.

  “Let’s go,” she called cheerfully, grabbing a pack out of the back of the SUV.

  “Are we to hike?” Sakir asked, his gaze filled with interest as he took the pack from her.

  She liked to see him this way, anticipation on his face. “Just a ways. Our spot is over there, in the flatlands.”

  Rita was happy to note that the walk wasn’t all that rugged, but very pretty. Juniper woodlands encompassed the high flat plains, along with acacia trees and milkweed shrubs. Eagles soared overhead, playing chicken with the cliff faces just below.