Page 30 of Her Vow to Be His Desert Queen

SIDONIEHADN’TWANTEDto admit to him how he’d hurt her. She’d sworn she wasn’t going to allow him to get to under her skin the way he’d done years ago, because to admit to that pain was to admit that he still mattered to her, even now.

Except he did matter. The loss of the man who’d once been the most important person in her life mattered. She couldn’t deny it, and as he’d stood there, telling her that man was gone, that friendship couldn’t matter to a king, she hadn’t been able to hold back.

She wanted him to know what his walking away from her, his cutting her off had done, that he’d broken her heart. And maybe it had been a mistake to reveal that to him, but she couldn’t keep hiding her hurt, not any more. It was too hard.

The problem is you, no matter what he said. You should never have told him you loved him.

She shouldn’t have, not after the lessons she’d learned in her aunt’s house. When to ask for anything or to reveal any feeling at all, even her joy, was an unwanted intrusion. But that night in Soho, she’d wanted him to know. He’d signed her marriage promise and she’d thought... She’d thought he’d felt the same way. A mistake.

He’d told her it hadn’t been, that he’d been trying to protect her because he’d had to go back to being a king, that he couldn’t be her friend any longer, and she still didn’t understand why. None of what he said about flaws and having to be more than a man made any sense.

But maybe that didn’t matter right now.

It was all in the past and he was right here, his ink-black eyes looking down into hers, the hand at her back holding her firmly against him, making her aware of all the leashed power and strength contained in that muscled chest and ridged stomach, those powerful thighs...

She was aching deep inside, all the longing in her broken heart spilling out of her.

‘I know,ya hayati,’ he murmured and then raised both hands and cupped her face between them. Her heart was beating so loud she could barely hear him. ‘And I will make it up to you, I promise.’

Then he tilted her head back and covered her mouth with his.

She sighed, intense relief sweeping through her. Despite her anger and sense of hurt, she’d been hoping for this moment, longing for it. And, while she’d had great plans of not letting her emotions get in the way once again, she couldn’t remember what those plans were or even why she wanted to do that in the first place.

What was important now was that his mouth was on hers and he was kissing her, and all she wanted to do was melt into that kiss. To glory in it then give back to him all the pleasure that he was giving her.

She leaned into him and he angled her head back further, kissing her deeper, hungrier, and this time she began to kiss him back, tentative at first and then, as he made a soft growling sound in the back of his throat, with more confidence. He tasted so good, hot and rich and dark, like the very best chocolate and the finest brandy all rolled into one. She couldn’t get enough.

His teeth sank into her bottom lip, giving her a nip that sent white-hot sparks of sensation along every single nerve ending, making her shudder in his arms. And then he was easing her down and onto the couch, his hands moving from her jaw to the neckline of her dress, pushing the golden fabric off her shoulders. The neckline was wide and loose anyway, so it didn’t take much doing, and then she was sitting on the couch, bare to the waist.

The realisation sent a hot shock through her, but then he was bending over her, his mouth still on hers, her head resting on the back of the couch, kissing her senseless as his fingers brushed down the side of her neck to her collarbones, stroking gently. Then moving further down, delicately tracing the curve of one bare breast, touching her as if she was made of glass and had to be handled with care.

Her nipples tightened and she shivered, part of her reeling that this was actually happening, that she was half naked and he was touching her, while another part wanted more and harder and right now, because she was going to go up in flames and she didn’t want to just yet...not quite yet.

She had waited for him for so long. She couldn’t bear to wait any more.

‘Khal...’ she whispered against his mouth, arching into his hand. ‘Khal, please...’

But he only gentled the kiss, turning it into a slow, deep exploration, at the same time as his fingers kept on brushing over her curves, learning her, stroking her skin as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of it.

She shuddered, her breath coming faster, ripples of delight forming wherever his fingers touched and moving outward, increasing that dragging, aching pressure that was concentrated between her thighs.

He circled one nipple lazily, tracing small circles around and around, teasing her, making her shudder and twist on the cushions, and then, just when she thought she was going to go mad, his thumb brushed over the tip of her breast, sending an arrow of such intense pleasure through her that she gasped aloud. Then he did it again, and again, and she gasped a second time, reaching for his hand to guide it where she wanted it.

‘No.’ His lips brushed hers as he moved his thumb back and forth over her nipple. ‘Keep still for me,ya hayati.I will give you what you want, but I am going to savour this first. I am going to savour you.’

‘But I... I...don’t mind,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I want—’

‘I know what you want.’ His voice was very deep and very certain. ‘But I have waited years for you and so I am going to take my time. You deserve nothing less.’

Years. He’d been waiting years.

Her heart squeezed tight in her chest. There were so many things she wanted to say that right now she didn’t care about what she deserved, she only wanted him to end this exquisite torment, but it was clear that nothing she could do was going to stop him.

So she let her hand fall away and kept still as he kissed her long and deep and lazy, his hand stroking one breast and then the other, making her pant and arch, the pressure between her thighs becoming almost unbearable.

The way he touched her made her ache, made her feel vulnerable, made her remember all those fleeting moments of contact over the years. The gentle hand on her arm, the touch on her shoulder. The warmth of his arms as he’d pulled her in for that dance the night of her birthday. No one had ever held her the way he had. No one had ever touched her the way he did. No one had ever touched her full stop. Not since her parents had died. Her aunt hadn’t hugged her, or kissed her, had never even laid a hand on her shoulder for comfort, not even at her parents’ funeral. She hadn’t realised how starved for touch she’d been until now.

Until Khalil’s stroking her, caressing her as if she was a work of art he needed to be careful with. A precious work of art.

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