Page 33 of Her Vow to Be His Desert Queen

His whole body felt tight, the heat inside him building. And he wanted to stop her, because his body, after all, was only a man’s and it was tired of constant control. It wanted her. It had been waiting for her for ten years and it didn’t want to wait any more.

Yet what she was saying couldn’t be. That man had known happiness, had known love, but it wasn’t something that was possible for a king. A king was a surgeon, cutting out anything that might make his country sick, and sometimes that was healthy tissue. He needed steady hands for it, and a cold, clear, analytical brain. He couldn’t afford to be at the mercy of either his body or his heart.

Except he could feel need inside him, that desperate, terrible longing he thought he’d excised so long ago. The longing for her. For her hands and her mouth, and the beautiful body he’d fantasised about and wanted so badly. For her heat to chase away the dark.

He could have that at least, couldn’t he? It was only physical, and after all, he was going to need heirs at some point. No, she hadn’t agreed yet to marry him, but perhaps if he gave her what she wanted now, she might.

He could remember what it was like to be that man for her. Not pretend—he had no need to fake anything with her—but he could try to be at least a little like that man again. He couldn’t be him totally, but maybe with her alone he could.

He’d just have to make sure when he was away from her to be the King he had to be.

Her hand pressed against him, the heat of her palm seeping through the light cotton of his trousers. The breath hissed in his throat, a spike of pure pleasure lancing through him.

Her eyes had darkened, and so he put his own hand over hers and held it against him, the light pressure almost agonising.

Her fingers squeezed lightly.

‘Sidonie...’ Her name came out half a groan, half a growl.

She moved closer, her scent all around him, her warmth seductive as a siren’s song, making him acutely aware of every second of those ten years of longing.

‘I want you, Khalil,’ she said huskily, the honesty that was at the core of her laid bare. ‘I want to give you pleasure.’ Her eyes had darkened still further, like shadowed forests. ‘Teach me. Teach me how to make you feel good. Please...’ The way she said the words, the plea in her voice...

Desire burned hot in his blood, the way she was touching him making it difficult to think. Not that there was any thinking needed. Not when he’d already made his decision.

Khalil pulled her hand away and lay back on the couch cushions with her on top of him, her soft warmth against his chest. She was very flushed, the slightest hint of challenge in her eyes. A shudder of heat coursed down his spine, his heartbeat accelerating.

‘You wanted to touch me,’ he said roughly. ‘So touch me like this.’ And he took her hand and drew it down over his stomach, to the waistband of his trousers, then beneath the loose linen fabric and under the cotton of his underwear, to where he was hard and ready for her.

Her eyes widened, her mouth opening slightly as he curled her fingers around him. A sigh escaped her.

‘Yes,’ he growled, the pressure of her hand sweet agony. ‘Stroke me, Sidonie.’

So she did. Hesitantly at first, then with growing confidence, her gaze on his, watching his reaction to her touch.

It was incredibly erotic. But he wanted to taste her so he reached out and slid a hand behind the back of her head, pulling her mouth down on his, kissing her hungrily.

Sidonie moaned and kissed him back, her hand moving, doing what he told her to and stroking him.

The intensity of the pleasure was impossible to contain. Every nerve-ending he had was alight from the touch of her hand and the taste of her mouth. He’d waited years for her touch. Years and years. Had once wanted it more than life itself.

He had it now and it was going to destroy him.

Well, he would let it. Because in this moment, she was right. He didn’t have to be a king. Right now, with her, he could be a man, take all the pleasure and passion she was giving him and drown himself in it.

So for the first time in his life, Khalil didn’t think. He didn’t reflect or pause to examine the implications. He acted on instinct, driven by desire and desperation, and a need deeper than words.

He shifted, pulling her hand away from him and turning her over onto her back, settling himself between her thighs. Then he bent and kissed her again, hungrier than he’d ever been in his entire life. ‘I have to have you, Sidonie,’ he said in a voice he didn’t recognise as his own. ‘I have to have you,now.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

THEWORDSWERErough gravel and velvet and the heat in them nearly set her alight. He was a hot, heavy weight on her, pressing her into the couch cushions, and she loved it. She loved the feel of him pinning her there, holding her down, reducing her world to the softness of the cushions beneath her, and the hardness of the man on top of her.

‘Yes,’ she whispered, her hands sliding up his chest, pushing the robe he was wearing off his powerful shoulders, wanting to keep on touching him because the feel of his skin, velvety smooth and so hot, was like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. ‘Oh, yes.Please.’

She thought she’d got through to him and that some part of him had heard her. He’d resisted her telling him the man was still a part of him, his body taut with negation, but something in him had surrendered to her.

Now it was her turn to surrender to him.

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