Midnight in the Harem: For Duty's Sake / Banished to the Harem / The Tarnished Jewel of Jazaar

Unable to speak, she shook her head.

“Your wedding night awaits.” He stepped back.

“Come.”

Her heart hammering, she followed him into the candlelit room, but jerked when he reached behind her, and then blushed at her jumpiness.

“Be at peace. I am only closing the access to the corridor.”

“Can just anyone come in through it?” she asked, another worry finding its place in her maelstrom of emotions.

“Only the family knows of its existence, and a select few of our security detail, those whose families have served the royal house for generations.”

“But still.” What if his brother, or father, or something, decided to make a late night visit?

“I have locked it from this side. The lever on the other side of the wall will not move.”

Relief washed over her. “Amir and Grace were in the corridor.”

Zahir’s entire body tensed. “Did they see you?”

“No.”

He nodded, relaxing a little. “It would not have been a total tragedy, but I would prefer you not to be made the object of speculation.”

She begged to differ. If she’d been seen, dressed as she was, it would have been both humiliating and a huge and total tragedy. Nothing would stop her uncle from forcing the marriage if she were caught in such a circumstance.

Thank goodness, only the royal family of Zohra knew of the passages. And her.

“How did you know I was in the corridor? Is there some kind of alarm?”

Zahir merely shrugged, but there was an odd expression in his eyes, the soft light of the candles giving his angular cheeks a burnished glow that almost looked like a blush.

He reached out and cupped her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“You didn’t like my dress earlier?” “You know I did.” “Do I?”

“Oh, yes.” His hand slipped around her head and settled against her nape. He used the hold to gently tug her forward until their bodies were a mere breath apart. “You are a minx. How did I not realize this before?”

“Minx is such an old-fashioned word.”

“I am an old-fashioned guy.”

“You think?”

“In some ways, I am very traditional.”

Then, before she could answer, he lowered his head and she finally got the kiss she’d always wanted.

And it was every bit as tender and romantic as she could ever have hoped. Letting out a little sigh of pleasure, she let her lips part slightly.

Zahir’s tongue swept inside, claiming her mouth with unhesitating, if gentle, demand. Her arms moved of their own volition, her hands clasping behind his neck as she melted into him. His big body shuddered at the full-on contact and she could feel the evidence of a tightly leashed desire pressing impressively against her stomach.

The evidence that he did indeed want her made her bold and she tangled her tongue with his, responding to his kiss with an abandon she’d never known she was capable of.

She’d spent so many years repressing her sexual desires, they rushed through her now with the power of a California wildfire.

She moaned, moving against him, needing more than the kiss, but too involved in it to do anything about that.

As if he could read her mind, Zahir’s hands began exploring her body through the thin silk of the wedding

galabeya. He traced the embroidery along her spine, sending raptures through her body.

When his hands cupped her bottom, she could not suppress a needy whimper. An approving growl came from deep in his chest as he lifted her to press the apex of her thighs against his hardness.

Her legs spread of their own volition, but the skirt of the long Arabic gown constricted how far she could do so. He didn’t seem to mind, making another sound of approval as he intimately thrust against her. The contact between them, even through the layers of silk of their clothing, sent electric sparks exploding along her nerve endings. His thrusts became more urgent as she felt warm moisture develop between her legs.

How could this feel so good? How could she feel so out of control already? They weren’t even naked yet.

He tilted her pelvis just so and suddenly sensation unlike anything she’d ever known was making her womb clench. She mashed her mouth against his, needing to be closer.

He gave her what she needed, taking their kiss into something wildly carnal.

Unfamiliar tension built inside her, pleasure tinged by almost panic at the unfamiliarity of it, made her body shake even as she pressed against him in wanton need for something she couldn’t give name to.

And then it came, that nameless something, a supernova of sensation that made her body go rigid as she cried out against his mouth. A sob built in her throat as the pleasure burst, and ebbed, and burst again.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She could only feel and that was too much. Too intense and yet she never wanted it to end.

But something this immense had to end, or kill her. She was sure of it.

Her heart felt ready to explode from her chest. If this is what he could do to her with a kiss, she was never going to survive what was to come.

The jolts of pleasure grew farther apart as her body ebbed toward relaxation more and more until she was completely limp against him. Her grasp on his neck nothing more than a caress, really, as her muscles certainly weren’t supporting her.

Finally, breaking the kiss, he swung her high against his chest and smiled down at her. “You are amazing.”

She could not speak to respond, merely shook her head. He was the incredible one, playing her boldly like a sitar’s strings.

“Making love to you will be my greatest pleasure.” She forgave him the smug tones edging his voice.

They were well-earned. Besides, his words weren’t smug at all. He could have said it would be her greatest pleasure, and they both knew that would be the case.

She was a virgin after all.

Making the other claim was a sop to her feelings that she could not help loving him for. Tonight would definitely not be the beginning of her learning to suppress that love like she always had her feminine sensuality.

That would come later, when she was not in his arms, experiencing feelings and emotions beyond comprehension.