Desert Orchid: The Desert Princes: Book 1 (14 page)

Her eyes flew to his and she was awed by his magnificent effort to keep control.

The tendons on his neck stood out in sharp relief as he pushed in a little further.

Her gasp of alarm made him take her hands in his and their fingers clasped tight as he pressed her hands into the bed either side of her head.

"Do not take your eyes from mine. Promise me, Charisse."

His voice was rough and throaty and all the while her eyes never left his.

"I promise."

And as she spoke the words he thrust deep within her.

Her cry of shock echoed through the high ceiling of the room.

The notion of it all being too much threatened to overwhelm her.

He was too big and too wide and she was going to split in two.

She tried to move but Khalid’s hips held her absolutely still.

His face was a fierce mask of concentration above her and her mouth went wide in an O shape as her eyes flooded.

"Don’t you dare look away from me. The worst is over. Lie still and get used to the sensation. Try to relax. Put your legs around my waist and tilt your hips towards me." When she hesitated he raised his brows. "Do as I say."

With a shaky breath, she wound her legs around his waist and tipped her pelvis. At the same time Khalid partly withdrew and then gently rocked forward. She’d prepared herself for the same overfilled sensation and was very relieved when it never came.

Khalid rotated his hips in a way that widened her eyes.

Nice.

It felt really nice.

"Do it again," she demanded in a tone that made his lips twitch.

Her breath gasped in her throat as her hips kept pace with his strong thrusts.

Not once did he take his eyes from hers as his fingers gripped hers tightly and they took their time to journey to a place neither had ever been before.

Dimly Charisse became aware that their breathing and heartbeats were synchronised as he picked up the pace and beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead and top lip.

He was holding back, waiting for her, and Charisse met him thrust for thrust, slick flesh slapping against slick flesh. And then her body wound tighter and tighter as her inner muscles fisted, drawing him further into her body. Oh, God. Her body arched.

She had no idea it would be like this.

How could she possibly have known?

"Come for me, baby," he roared.

His whole body was trembling and his words had her arch her neck as her body came apart and her mind flew to a place where time and space became eternal. In the distance she heard Khalid call her name as his big body shuddered once, twice, and a third time and the heat of life giving fluid poured into her.

But the most amazing thing was the way her body held his tight within her.

Tears of release leaked into her hairline. Everything had changed, her life would never, ever be the same again. This was not just sex, it was a meeting of hearts, of two souls joining to become one.

Khalid lay sprawled on top of her as her hot core gripped him and ruthlessly milked every single drop of his seed.

He’d never felt anything like it.

It had never been like this with anyone else.

No one has ever made him feel so alive, so masculine.

And he laughed, caught between delight and despair that this woman should have such an amazing effect on him.

He wanted to tell her what she’d done to him, but couldn’t, scared that she would find his admission as weak, find him somehow less than a man. Instead, he decided that actions spoke louder than words.

His kiss on that trembling mouth was a pouring of his heart and soul into this woman.

And her heart was beating, like his, very fast.

She never ceased to surprise him.

Charisse’s long legs collapsed onto the bed along with her arms and Khalid raised his head to look at her.

He couldn’t help but laugh at her dazed but delighted expression.

"What on earth was that?" she asked him in a small voice.

Forcing himself not to smirk, he simply raised a brow.

"That was making love, baby. How was it for you?"

"Unbelievable. Is it like that all the time?"

He had no idea but he hoped to hell it was.

"You’re a fast learner. Try not to over think it."

The flare of disappointment in her eyes told him he’d hurt her, but he couldn’t find the right words.

How could he say she’d rocked his world?

That he simply adored her?

The atmosphere between them changed in an instant, and he withdrew from her body to find a streak of blood high on her thigh.

The memory of how he'd overstretched her tender flesh made him wince.

Her fabulous face burned with mortification.

Poor baby.

He’d caused her pain.

"No. Let me take care of you," he told her as she moved to get up. He pushed her back onto the bed with a gentle hand. "Lie back and try to relax."

For a moment she wondered what he meant, then in a fluid move he was on his feet and striding into the bathroom. Her eyes went wide as she openly studied the muscled perfection and the strength of his long legs and his tight ass.

It annoyed her, but Charisse couldn’t help the ache of emotion in her throat, the sting of it behind her eyes. If she secretly dreamed and longed for a cuddle, for declarations of love and adoration then she’d just need to get over it.

Then she reminded herself that Khalid hadn’t asked or wanted to be the ruler of Onuur. And he certainly hadn’t asked or wanted to take a wife. Like her, he’d been forced into this situation, to give up his lifestyle, his home, by a misguided man who only wanted the best for his country and his people.

It was clear Khalid was prepared to make the best of it. So Charisse decided that she’d follow his lead and make the best of it, too. Perhaps in time he might come to care for her. As for herself, well she didn’t need time to care for him because she’d already given her heart to a man who didn’t want or need it.

As Khalid entered the bedroom holding clean towels and a cotton cloth, Charisse gave him a too wide smile and made a silent promise that she would be nothing less than a good wife to him.

Her bright smile did nothing to ease the ache in Khalid’s heart.

He sat on the edge of the bed.

She lifted her hips as he slid a folded towel under her bare bottom.

With a gentle hand he cleaned the slick of blood from her thighs before he dried her. Turning out the light, he crawled into bed beside her. Pulling a blanket over them he drew Charisse into the curve of his body to rest, to heal.

As she fell into an exhausted sleep, Khalid watched dawn break over the horizon. She was curled up into his side as he stroked his hand over the shining glory of her hair.

But he couldn’t settle as more questions whirled in his mind.

Charisse was beautiful, funny and very smart.

A woman who could do anything, be anything, she wanted to be in life.

So why was she living such a limited existence hidden away in Onuur?

Why had Charisse married Asim?

For money?

He had incontrovertible proof that she’d been paid to marry his uncle.

But his instincts were telling him that there was a lot more to it.

Something elusive he was missing.

Even though his uncle had been sick, surely she’d been far, far, too young for him?

His uncle had never been a womaniser, in fact he’d been known as an intellectual and talented historian.

Why had Amir paid her to marry him?

The more he learned about Charisse, the more none of the facts added up.

There was a mystery here and he’d get to the bottom of it.

When she was ready she’d promised to tell him everything.

Perhaps he needed to learn patience and trust?

Charisse muttered a sigh in her sleep and an overwhelming feeling of the need to protect her washed through him.

Tonight was definitely a night of firsts in his life. It was the first time he’d put a woman’s needs before his own. And the first time he’d felt the desire to brand and mark a woman as his own in such a way. She seemed to bring out something feral from within him. Her bravery as she’d trusted him with the secrets of her body and how she’d surrendered to him truly humbled him as a man.

He knew he’d found something very special this night.

And he just hoped to hell he didn’t screw it up as he’d done with everything else in his life.

Pressing his lips into her hair Khalid made a silent promise that he would never, ever, let her down.

Three days later, her mouth white, Arabella Faulkner stood before her queen.

Fury was coming off her in palpable waves.

Charisse knew what she had to do.

The safety of her people came first.

Feeling sick to her stomach she stood.

"Send all the boys under the age of eighteen back to their tribes immediately. And those that remain must never be unaccompanied."

Arabella nodded. "Sheik Abbas has sent a message. He wants to meet with you in the usual place."

Charisse’s eyes flew to hers.

"He has heard of this?" Then she wondered why she’d asked such a stupid question. Abbas was one of the most powerful men in Onuur, and as such he had plenty of informants in the palace. "Of course he has. We’ll ride out at midnight."

"We’ll take the dogs?"

Charisse knew why Arabella had asked the question. For the last three days Boris had spent most of his time with Khalid, while Rufus stuck to her like glue.

"Yes."

Her bodyguard's dark brown eyes stayed on hers. "Prince Khalid
must
be told of this. Omar is accountable to him."

Arabella was right.

Charisse didn’t want to even consider the possibility that her future husband was aware that his protection officer had a taste for young boys.

As for Khalid, she hadn't seen him since their night together.

She'd battled very hard to overcome the combined feelings of hurt, arousal and a lingering anxiety that perhaps her innocence had been a bitter disappointment to a man whose sexual exploits had graced the headlines of tabloids across three continents. His whispered promises to teach her the joy of sex had led her to an expectation that he might repeat his lesson.

No such luck.

Apparently, he was again in full creative flow. And he’d made it abundantly clear he was never to be disturbed when the muse struck, which was perfectly ridiculous.

How on earth was he supposed to run a country part-time?

His parents and brother were due to arrive for their wedding in two days. That’s if Khalid could be bothered, Charisse thought savagely, to tear himself away from his painting for his own wedding.

She decided not to disturb him, for now. "We’ll gather facts before I speak with him."

Not at all happy with that idea, Arabella glowered.

"How is it possible he is unaware of this?"

Charisse had asked herself the very same question, but she’d already made one mistake in prejudging Khalid and she wasn’t about to make another.

"We must give him the benefit of the doubt. If it turns out Khalid
is
aware that Omar is a paedophile then the wedding is off and I’ll tell King Abdullah why. And it will become my personal mission in life to ensure Khalid does not rule this land."

"Very well. But if I find that son-of-a-bitch Omar laying a fat finger on any boy, I’ll shoot his balls myself.” Her bodyguard let out a very long breath. "By the way, keep your pistol on you at all times." Charisse stared at her and Arabella continued, "I don’t like the way Omar looks at you either. The whole vibe of this place has changed since they arrived. I always trust my gut."

Arabella was right.

These days the atmosphere around the palace had a dark and brooding edge to it. As if the whole structure was holding its breath. Initially, Charisse had put down her servants’ skittishness around Khalid as nerves due to the changes he was implementing, especially in relation in how they dealt with her. He demanded he was given his due as the ruler of Onuur, which was fair enough, but what did he expect the staff to do when he was out of contact for days at a time?

Over the years that Asim had been ill, the servants had become used to deferring to Charisse. Plus, her late husband had encouraged her to run the palace and implement change.

But it hadn’t take Charisse long to discover it was Omar who made the staff in the palace fearful and now she knew why. He’d trapped a twelve year old boy in his room. The child’s cries for mercy had saved him from certain rape.