Desert Rogues Part 1

Their gazes locked. She could feel both their hearts beating. His arousal pressed against her belly. He pressed her onto her back and cupped her breasts. Finger and thumb teased her nipples. His hardness rode against her hot center, tormenting her by bringing her higher, but not allowing her to release.

She raised her hands and brought his head down to hers, then she kissed him. With her lips and her tongue she told him that she wanted him, but she refused to give in verbally. Between her legs, he rubbed hard, faster, making her ache and want, but she would not speak.

“Your will is not stronger than mine,” he growled against her mouth.

“Yes, it is.”

“No!”

He raised up and guided himself inside. As he filled her, stretching her, making her cry out with pleasure, he reached down and touched that one, tiny spot.

The combination was too much. She felt herself collecting, rising, building, the tension growing until it exploded into light and glory.

Khalil felt the first rippling response of her body. Her muscles convulsed, contracting and releasing in a perfect rhythm. He cursed, he resisted, and it was all a waste of time. He’d played the game too well. In his effort to force her to submit, he’d allowed himself to get too aroused. Now, in the vortex of her release, he felt himself being caught and flung into the same tornado. Even as he tried to withdraw and gain control, it was already too late. Clutching her, he passed the point of no return and cried out her name.

The pleasure grew. He pumped harder, going deeper. Incredibly her contractions began again. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging, urging him on. Again and again she convulsed, until he had no choice but to explode his seed inside of her. They shuddered together, two people lost in a storm.

When at last his breathing returned to normal, he raised himself up on his arms and stared at her. She lay with her eyes closed, her lips tightly pressed together. Tears flowed down her temples and into her hair.

“Dora?”

“Go away. You won.”

“We both won,” he said, although technically she had been the real victor. He hadn’t been able to make her say that she wanted him.

She pushed at his shoulder. He shifted off her, suddenly feeling as awkward as a teenager. What was wrong?

When Dora was free of him, she sat up. “Is there a bathroom?”

He pointed to several hanging rugs on the far side of the tent. “In there. We have running water, but not very much, so be cautious.”

She nodded, but didn’t speak. As she climbed out of bed, she reached for her gown and covered herself. Khalil watched her slow progress across the floor. She moved as if she were in pain. Had he hurt her? He shook his head. That wasn’t possible. At the end, she’d been clinging to him, wanting him as much as he wanted her. Women. They were all temperamental creatures.

By the time she returned to the bed, he’d slipped under the covers and had arranged the pillows. He saw that she’d washed away all traces of her tears. She got in next to him, but instead of cuddling close, she curled up with her back to him.

“You’re being a child,” he told her.

“Leave me alone. You got what you wanted. The rest of it shouldn’t matter.”

He stared at her for another minute, then flopped down on his back. Fine. If she wanted to be that way, he didn’t care. She was right. He’d gotten what he wanted. He’d made love with her. The rest of it was nonsense.

Except he found himself aching to hold her. As the night wore on, his side of the bed seemed to grow until he felt he was in a separate country. Once, when he knew she was truly sleeping, he’d moved close and put his arm around her. But even in sleep she shrugged him off, so he retreated to his own side.

Something cold and dark took residence in his chest. He hated the feeling that he’d acted rashly and had made a mistake that couldn’t be corrected. Involuntarily he raised a hand to his face and touched the thin scar on his cheek. History was not repeating itself, he thought grimly. He would make sure things were different. Of course they were different. The situations had nothing in common.

And yet, far into the night, he wondered.

Dora awoke in Khalil’s arms. As she stirred, she felt heat beneath her cheek and something heavy across her waist. She opened her eyes and saw that sometime in the night she’d rolled over and curled into his arms.

She stiffened and started to pull away, but the hand on her waist tightened. She looked up and saw that he was awake.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice low and husky.

She hated that just the sound sent a shiver through her body and made her want to melt against him. Wasn’t it enough that he’d humiliated her the previous night, tempting her until she’d thrown her convictions aside and had surrendered? Was this going to be an ongoing battle between them?

A slow smile curved at the corners of his mouth. “You resist and you want in equal measures, my desert cat. Which part of you is going to win?”

He shifted as he spoke, turning on his side until he faced her, slipping one knee between her legs and pressing it against her swollen woman’s place. It took every ounce of strength not to arch against him. The need was as instant as it was powerful. How could her body betray her this way?

“I’ll never surrender willingly,” she told him, staring into his eyes. Her words were a vow. “You might be able to make my body react, but you’ll never touch my heart.”

“Is that a challenge? Didn’t I warn you about making challenges? You are destined to be defeated.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “In the most delicious way possible, of course. Besides, the chase is part of the appeal.”

She wanted to scream out her frustration. How could this be happening to her? How could she have allowed herself to get into this position—both figuratively and literally? Even as she lay next to him, she felt his growing arousal pressing into her hip. Her woman’s place dampened in response, readying for him. It didn’t matter that he’d hurt her and lied to her and used her—every cell of her body still ached for his possession.

“You will be mine,” he said confidently.

“Never. I’ll keep turning away from you.”

“And night after night, I will seduce you.” He laughed. “If you’re looking to punish me, Dora, you’re going to have to find something better than that.” His humor faded. “Then, in time, you’ll grow to love me as a dutiful wife should.”

She didn’t know if he was still teasing or not, but it didn’t matter. Inside she’d grown empty and cold again, as she had the night before. She knew that he would be true to his word. He would seduce her as often as it amused him, and regardless of how much she resisted, she would eventually submit. In time his relentless assault would leave her spirit crushed and broken.

“I will never love you,” she promised.

“You say that now, but I wonder if you’ve already fallen a bit in love with me. Am I your fantasy, my desert cat? Am I who you dreamed about in your lonely virgin bed?”

She wrenched herself free of him and stumbled out of bed. As she glared at him, he merely smiled and tossed away the covers so that she could see that he was hard and ready.

She turned her back on him and made a feeble effort to gather some kind of control. She had to learn how to protect herself from him. She had to be strong. If she didn’t figure it out, his words would become a prophecy. He was an arrogant, selfish bastard…and he was right. He was the kind of man she’d dreamed about through her loneliness. Not the self-centered prince who forced his will on his reluctant wife, but the charming lover who had seduced her that first night.

She dreamed about the kind man who had rescued her in Kansas and the intelligent businessman she’d worked for in New York. Those were the men who had captured her attention and perhaps even a bit of her heart. But she did not love the Prince of El Bahar.

She found her lace dress and drew it over her head, then pulled on the heavy silk robes. Only when she was completely covered did she turn back to face him.

“I cannot speak for loving,” she said quietly, “but I will never like or respect you. If you insist on keeping me here, you will have to be content with duty.”

He raised dark eyebrows. “A dutiful wife during the day and a wildcat in my bed at night. You, my dear, are my fantasy.”

She felt the tears begin to burn, but she blinked them away. “How fortunate for you, Khalil. To me you are nothing more than a nightmare from which I can only pray to awake.”

She continued to stare at him, but not even by the flicker of a lash did he betray his thoughts. Then she turned away because she could feel her pain growing stronger, and she was determined to never let him see her cry again.

Chapter Eleven

They drove back to the palace in silence. Khalil waited for Dora to comment on the beauty of the morning, or their four-car escort of guards, but instead she sat quietly in her seat, staring straight ahead, saying nothing. Fine, he thought angrily. If she wanted to play that game, he could do it as well…or better.

What had started out as a simple, even logical arrangement had turned into something more—something difficult. Why did she have to be so emotional? Perhaps he had misled her about his feelings at the beginning, but why did that matter now? He’d married her. He intended to treat her with the respect and consideration his wife deserved. They would live at the palace, have many sons. By virtue of their marriage, she had entered a life of wealth and privilege. What was she so upset about?