Royal Weddings. Annie West

He had responsibilities, duties. He was totally in control of the situation no matter how wayward his thoughts. He would keep everything in perspective, including his desire for his wife.

      * * *

      Tariq snared her wrist as they entered the royal apartments. ‘Let Sofia put the boys down for their nap.’

      ‘But it’s no trouble. I like doing it.’ Samira’s confidence with them grew each day, and they had accepted her into their lives.

      She’d done the right thing, proposing this marriage. The niggle of doubt that she’d tied herself to a man who’d tricked her, pretending to accept her terms, then breaking down her resistance to sex—well, it was only a niggle. After all, she enjoyed this marriage with benefits as much as he.

      She’d been naive believing they could live together celibately. But in everything else, he’d been honest with her. Of course he had. This was Tariq. The man she’d known all her life.

      ‘Leave them.’ His voice was a low burr that burrowed to the core of her. ‘You can do it tomorrow.’

      She met his hooded stare and nodded, trying to dispel the heated blanket of awareness that engulfed her whenever he was near.

      Sitting beside him at the village reception had been torture. The whole time she’d smiled and made polite conversation her skin had been drawn too tight, her blood pulsing too fast, her body crying out for his touch.

      It had taken him no time at all to persuade her into intimacy. Persuade! She’d all but jumped him, once she’d accepted his assurance that intimacy and love could be separate.

      And now... She gulped, watching his eyes darken. Now she struggled to pretend she didn’t spend all her time thinking about him. She’d opened the Pandora’s box of sexual closeness and was more in thrall to Tariq than she could ever have expected. Her breathing sharpened. With fear or excitement?

      ‘We need to talk about today.’ He turned abruptly towards their private corridor.

      Talk? She stifled disappointment. ‘Of course. I thought it went well. Did you?’

      ‘Better than expected. Everyone sounded positive despite what they’ve been through.’ Yet Tariq’s words didn’t ring with satisfaction. She caught an undercurrent of urgency in them and wondered what was wrong.

      Samira hurried to keep up with his lengthening stride.

      ‘They appreciate all you’re doing. The women kept singing your praises.’ A blush rose at the memory of their enthusiasm, the compliments for her fine husband who was not only strong but handsome and no doubt virile. ‘You won their trust early, going there in person at the time of the emergency and helping with the rescue mission.’

      Her pride in him swelled. Tariq was an outstanding leader, hands-on as well as strategic, not one who only sat back and supervised at a distance. His presence had brought real hope to the villagers.

      ‘They’re my people. Where else would I have been?’

      He led the way into the first of their private sitting rooms but, instead of halting by the cluster of comfortable chairs, Tariq closed the door behind them, then strode on.

      ‘Didn’t you want to talk?’ There was a breathless catch in her voice as she scurried to match his pace.

      ‘Is that what I said?’ The look he slanted her sizzled all the way to her toes.

      Swiftly he turned. In her traditional flat slippers she felt tiny against his towering bulk. His shoulders blocked out the room and she had to tilt her neck to hold his gaze as a thrill of anticipation shot through her. She’d never felt so overwhelmingly feminine as with Tariq.

      ‘What I want...’ the rough texture of his voice weakened her knees ‘...is to be alone with you as soon as possible.’

      His hands were on her, lifting her against a pillared archway. Shocked, she opened her mouth to speak but instead her breath came out in a gasp of satisfaction as he pressed close, his torso to her breasts, his powerful thighs hard and insistent, pushing hers apart.

      Samira roped her arms around his neck, holding tight, reeling as a wave of desire crashed over her, threatening to drag her under. His solid heat inflamed her. An urgent throb of need pulsed at the spot where he wedged himself close, taking her from zero to boiling point in mere seconds. Even the tang of desert heat and male spice tickling her nose was arousing.

      ‘The bedroom is just there,’ she whispered, shimmying higher in his arms, pushing against his hard shaft, unmistakeable through the fine silk of her dress. Tariq’s unashamed arousal and his urgent passion were a continual revelation.

      As was her inevitable response.

      It struck her anew how very controlled Jackson’s love-making had been. Surely she shouldn’t feel so driven by the need to have Tariq right here, right now, as if nothing mattered except having him inside her?

      When had she become so wanton?

      ‘You think I can last till the bedroom?’ Tariq groaned and bent his head to bite her neck. Samira shuddered as pleasure ripped through her, turning her body molten.

      Everything in her softened. Breasts, belly, womb all hummed with the need for more. Her hands tightened, grabbing handfuls of his thick hair, holding him hard as he kissed the sensitive skin of her throat.

      ‘Hold on.’ He moved, pressing her up against the wall. She heard the chink of his belt buckle, felt him fumble between them. Then he was fighting his way past her long skirts, shoving the silk up her legs till she felt a waft of air on her bare thighs.

      She almost slipped but big hands hoisted her higher, guiding her legs till they encircled his waist. And all the time his eyes held hers. It was as if she hovered on the brink of diving into a fathomless mountain pool.

      Except it was heat she felt as he ripped her panties away and she gasped with horrified delight. Pure fire she touched as with one sure thrust Tariq embedded himself deep within her.

      She was so incredibly full, as if he stretched her to the limit. As if they’d become one, she thought hazily as he retreated, then thrust hard again, creating ripples of delight that took her straight to the edge. She grabbed tight, needing this oneness with him.

      ‘Samira.’ He ground the word, his jaw hard, his hands heavy on her body. She revelled in his touch and moved eagerly with him. He paused, then surged again, taking her to new heights. ‘You have no idea how I hunger for you.’

      She tried to gulp in enough air to catch her breath. ‘I do.’ It made her desperate, this unquenchable need for her husband. But the more she gave, the more she trusted him, the stronger it grew. ‘I want you all the time,’ she gasped.

      He stilled and she almost cried out in frustration. Till she registered his expression. She couldn’t interpret it, but those eyes gleamed more brightly than ever. As if they could burn right through her.

      When he stroked again, he took her to heaven’s door. The world burst into fireworks. Through a haze of bliss she just caught his words.

      ‘I’ve always wanted you, Samira. Always. And now you’re mine.’

      * * *

      Samira lay sprawled across Tariq on the bed, her limbs dissolved, her head on his heaving chest. His heart hammered beneath her ear, rapid like hers. Her palm rested on his chest, fingers furrowed into the smattering of hair that she still found so intriguing.

      ‘I don’t think I can walk,’ she whispered.

      She felt more than heard his huff of laughter. ‘Good. I don’t want you going anywhere.’ He pulled her closer, as if just the thought of her moving wasn’t to be considered.

      Samira smiled sleepily. She’d lost her shoes when he carried her here and her dress was twisted around her hips but she didn’t have the strength to move. His breath was hot on her face and his hand played languidly with her hair,