Page 31 of Desert King's Forbidden Temptation

If he married Elana—and he would, he must—then Eloise would have to take a step back. From her best friend. From her life. There was no way she could continue to live as sisters with Elana, while her best friend made a life with herself as Tariq’s wife. She loved Elana and wanted only the best for her, but it would be painful beyond bearing to sit on the sidelines and watch that. Eloise would have to leave Ras Sarat, Savisia, the whole area.

She would be cast adrift, again.

Alone.

Friendless.

A lump formed in her throat and she blinked away, right before Tariq turned and looked at her. She couldn’t possibly continue to be near him. It was hard enough now, knowing that the chemistry they felt was technically a mistake. But if he was married to Elana, it would be strictly forbidden, and neither of them could ever betray Elana. Seeing him every day would be a torment.

And not seeing him?

She dipped her head forward, almost glad for the resurgence of her fear as the plane lifted and wobbled a little from side to side as the air currents buffeted the beast of a thing. She made a soft gasping noise, but kept her head down as panic filled her mouth with the taste of metal and she gripped the armrests so hard her fingernails stung.

Two hours?

It wasn’t long. She could do it. She had to.

Something was wrong. He’d heard her exclamation shortly after take-off, but then she’d kept doing whatever she was doing, and he’d presumed it was a reaction to something she was reading or watching.

But now, as the jet passed through some mild turbulence, Eloise looked as though she were about to pass out. Her skin had lost all colour, her eyes were huge in her face and her lips were smacking together like she was trying to speak but couldn’t.

He stood abruptly and crossed to her, ignoring the now familiar lurching in his gut as he drew near. He crouched down at her side, his pants straining over his haunches as he studied her more closely.

She turned to face him, almost catatonic; she was unrecognisable. He swore. ‘What the hell is it?’

She was trembling all over, her hands the worst of all.

‘I’m—’ But she couldn’t speak. Her lips opened and closed without issuing any further noise.

The plane made another little jump and she screamed, pressed a hand to her mouth, then turned away from him, hiding herself. But he’d seen enough; he understood.

She’d driven to Savisia, rather than flying, and at the first sign of the jet, she’d balked. He’d thought it was because it meant being alone with him, but what if it had to do with something more basic, like a fear of flying?

It was the only thing that made sense.

‘It’s okay,’ he murmured, moving past her to the seat opposite, at the window, lifting the armrest between them so he could draw her against his chest. ‘It’s okay,’ he said again, quietly, the words rumbling between them. It didn’t help. She was shaking uncontrollably.

He began to worry.

‘You’re afraid,’ he said, needing to know that his suspicions were correct, to rule out anything more sinister.

He felt her sharp nod against him.

‘Okay.’ Relief washed over him. A fear of flying was something he could manage. He stroked her arm softly, gently, rhythmically, holding her tight, offering security in his grip, and wishing that his altruistic gesture of comfort wasn’t making him far too aware of her soft curves and femininity.

‘This plane is very safe,’ he said. ‘The turbulence is normal as we cross the mountains. You will be fine, little one. I promise you.’

Her teeth chattered together. ‘How d-do you know?’

‘Because I fly all the time.’

‘But this time—’

‘Will also be safe.’

The trembling didn’t subside. All he could do was hold her, and so he did. He held her tight through the turbulence but even once it subsided, he kept her clasped to his chest. At some point, it stopped being because she needed it, and started being because he wanted her there, because he liked feeling her against him, because her breath was warm and her body soft, because his fingers liked trailing over her arms, because she fit so perfectly right where she was. He held her tight and refused to think about how he was breaking the promise he’d made.

He was crossing an invisible line every moment he kept her pressed to him. He knew it, she knew it, yet neither of them did a thing about it.

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