Page 31 of Her Vow to Be His Desert Queen

Had she ever felt precious to anyone? No, she didn’t think she had, but she felt it now. She felt precious to him.

He put one knee on the cushion beside her, his powerful body leaning further over her, his mouth moving down her neck to the hollow of her throat and lingering, tasting the frantic beat of her pulse. His palm was hot against one breast and he squeezed it gently, making her shudder, then he slid it down further, beneath the gold fabric of her dress, over her stomach.

Sidonie went utterly still, every part of her trembling as his fingers slid lower. She let her thighs fall open, desperate for him to touch her there, and he finally did, pushing beneath the waistband of the lacy knickers she wore and brushing over the slick folds of her sex.

She cried out, lifting her hips into his hand, wanting more, but he only stroked her lazily, his fingers sliding and exploring everywhere except the place where she needed it most. His mouth lingered at her throat and then moved lower, tasting the curve of one breast. Then his tongue traced a burning circle around her nipple, his fingers between her thighs mirroring the movement, again and again, until she was whispering his name, barely conscious of what she was saying.

Then right when she thought she couldn’t bear another second, the heat of his mouth closed over her aching nipple at the same time as his fingers moved between her thighs, brushing over the most sensitive part of her, and the pressure inside her burst apart like a firework, the most intense, unbearable, incredible pleasure flooding through her.

She gave a helpless cry of ecstasy, shaking and shaking and unable to stop, until she thought she might come apart at the seams. But then he was on the couch beside her, pulling her into his lap, his arms warm and strong around her, holding her, keeping her together as the aftershocks passed.

She lay against him, her head on his shoulder, relaxed and heavy and sated, unable to move and not wanting to either.

He was very still and gradually she became conscious that, though the beat of his heart was strong and steady, all his muscles were tense. She could feel the hard press of his arousal and it made her flush with heat. That was because of her, wasn’t it? She’d aroused him, she’d made him hard. That was all her.

She shifted her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. He was staring back, his eyes sharp as shattered obsidian, a deep, hot glitter in them.

‘Khal,’ she said huskily. ‘Do you need—?’

‘No.’ There was an unfamiliar, rough edge to his voice. ‘That was for you and only for you. You do not have to reciprocate.’

‘But you’re hard.’

He lifted one eyebrow. ‘So? I am quite able to manage myself, believe me.’

She swallowed, searching his face, something inside her falling away. And the question came out before she could stop herself. ‘Is it me?’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re hard but you don’t want me to touch you. You don’t want me to give you pleasure.’ Her chest felt tight, an echo of his rejection from so long ago resounding through her. ‘Is there something the matter with me? Is that why you don’t—?’

Khalil laid a finger across her mouth, silencing her, a burning look in his eyes. ‘There is nothing wrong with you, Sidonie.Nothing.Why would you say that?’

She shook his finger away, her heart beating far too fast. Protecting herself was instinctive these days, but there was no protecting herself from him. She understood that now. ‘Why wouldn’t I think that? All I got from Aunt May was how much of a burden I was and how grateful I should be for every little thing she gave me. She made me ask for everything, and I always felt so needy and desperate when I did. And then...’ Her throat was tight, and she had to swallow past the lump in it. ‘When you walked away from me that night, I thought I’d frightened you away. I thought that Aunt May was right about me. Iwastoo needy and desperate. I was just...wrong somehow.’

The words hung in the air between them, and she wished abruptly that she could take them back. She’d been too honest and that left her vulnerable.

She shivered, but didn’t look away, even though part of her was dreading his response. She wouldn’t be a coward.

His gaze was full of darkness, but something bright glowed at the heart of it, a flame that burned hot and strong. ‘It is a good thing your aunt is in England. If she was here, I would have had her imprisoned.’ A note of ferocity vibrated in his voice. ‘And I would have had myself thrown into a cell with her.’

Sidonie took a shaky breath. ‘The problem isn’t you. The problem is—’

‘The problem is that your aunt stifled and starved you,’ he interrupted harshly. ‘She hurt you. The way she brought you up was a crime, and the fact that despite that you remain such a warm, bright light is a testament to your strength and your courage.’

She blinked, staring at him, her heart squeezing tighter and tighter.

‘And I did not help,’ he went on. ‘I did not think about how leaving you would affect you. I knew cutting you off completely would hurt you, but I thought that you would heal.’ His arms around her tightened, the look in his eyes abruptly intensifying. ‘You asked me whether it was easier for you or for myself, and the truth is... The truth is that it was for myself. Because I did not want to leave you,ya hayati. I wanted to stay with you. I wanted to give you the family you wanted and be at your side. I wanted to marry you. But my country needed me. I could not have that longing in my heart and still be a king.’

‘Khalil,’ she whispered, her throat tight and sore.

‘No, I have not finished. You wondered where your friend is? He died, Sidonie. Leaving you hurt him, and because I could not have that pain and be the king my country needed me to be, I had to destroy him.’

Her heart was now a hot, sharp ball in her chest, full of jagged edges. He was telling the truth, she could hear it in the intense note in his voice, in that flame in his eyes. It made her throat close with bittersweet anguish, and an old, remembered grief.

The look on his face that night as she’d told him she loved him, his expression becoming hard and cold and set. A stranger’s face.

This man’s face. The King’s face.

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