Another rough-padded finger lifted her chin until she was gazing into his eyes. His nostrils flared, the set of his jaw resolute. “I would have your real name.”
If he had commanded her, Amira would have prevailed. But beneath that request was a thread of longing that resonated in her soul. What could such a commanding man want that he was ever denied?
He was harshly beautiful, like the rugged landscape of the desert, and yet he looked at her with such pure need.
The last of her good sense and diffidence melted. Innocent she might be when it came to men but she already felt like she knew him.
He wouldn’t hurt her.
“Amira...my name is Amira.”
Fire awakened in his eyes. They both knew she had given him more than just her name in that moment.
He tilted his head—a regal nod for granting him the privilege of her real name. Warmth filled her chest. “I’m Adir.”
“Salaam-alaikum, Adir.”
“Walaikum-as-salaam, Amira.”
He took her hand in his, completely engulfing hers. Sensations shimmered through her, flowing like a river from where their hands touched to spread all over her body. And then he was softly tugging her to him. Raising their clasped hands, he placed a soft kiss to the tender skin at her wrist.
It was a chaste kiss—nothing more than a buss from those lips to her skin. And yet her pulse skittered under his mouth. “Meeting you has made an awful night a thousand times better.”
The way he held her gaze, the banked fire in it...she wanted to answer it with her own fervor. For one night, she just wanted to be Amira and not a power-obsessed man’s daughter, nor the fiancée of a mostly indifferent prince. She wanted to sink into Adir’s arms and let him carry her away.
“You know, when you smile, you get two dimples. Did you know that dimples are caused when a facial muscle called zygomaticus major is shorter than normal? Sometimes, they’re also caused by excessive fat on your face. Although, in your case, it’s definitely not excessive fat, because you look hard as those rock structures we see in...in...”
His smile dawned as slow and bright like the sun over the horizon.
Amira buried her face in her hands and groaned loudly.
“So you’re informing me that my facial structure is flawed, yes?”
She tried to tug her hand from his. He didn’t let her. “Oh, please, you know you’re flawless.”
That seemed to take him aback. Didn’t he look at himself in mirror? Did he not have women flocking to him for a glimpse of that wicked smile?
Still smiling, he pulled her to her feet. “You’re...like a desert storm, Amira.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.”
His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Do you want a compliment, ya habibiti?”
“Yes, please.”
Again that pure laughter—a reward for her boldness. “You’re precious. Now, do me the honor of letting me check you.”
When she straightened all the way, he patted her down in an impersonal manner. As if he was used to her antics and had done it a thousand times before. As if he cherished his right to indulge her.
A hard knot made its place in Amira’s throat.
His hands rested on her shoulders. The sheer breadth of him took her breath away anew.
“So what was it this time?”
Caught staring at him once again, Amira frowned. “What was what?”
“What caused you to divulge all those important facts about dimples to me? Was I making you sad, perhaps? Upset? Angry?”
“You’re shamelessly goading me into admitting something I shouldn’t. Isn’t it enough that I made a fool of myself?”
“Please, ya habibiti.”
She raised a brow, stalling for time. “Why do I have the feeling you never say that word?”
He shrugged. “A couple of times in the last decade.”
She sighed. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know. “I’m attracted to you. I could steal all kinds of romance novels from the library and read about all the feelings that hit a woman when she finds a man attractive, but it’s not even close to what I feel. You could be forgiven for thinking it was all cooked up to sell books, this whole chemistry thing. And yet...it’s new and it’s strange and it’s utterly scary and it’s...”
Heartbreaking and painful.
Despair swamped her so fully and so suddenly that she pulled away from him. Looking up, she fought for composure.
Stars glittered in the sky above, winking at her. The fragrant night with its whispers and taunts seemed like a punishment now. It promised something she could never have.
Warmth coated with his scent reached her back. She tensed as he stilled behind her. Her pulse zigzagged all over at the closeness. He didn’t even touch her.
“Come away with me, Amira. Just for a few hours. I promise you again I would never harm you.”
“It’s wrong.”
“Why?”
“I’m not free to be attracted to you like this. I’m not free to indulge in this...this late-night stolen moment with you. And not just because my father would skin me alive if he found out.” Longing curled through her and she tried to shut it away. “I’m a betrothed woman.”
There was that contained energy within him again. Like walking too close to fire. “Is it your fiancé that...” the words choked in his throat “...that hurt you?”
“No. He...is a perfect gentleman who barely even looks at me. If you ask him what color my eyes are, I’m sure he wouldn’t know.”
“Then who is it?”
“My father. He...his temper gets away with him.”
Whatever it was that made him cover the last step between them, she didn’t care. His arms enveloped her on either side and unlocked her tight grip on the sill.
The graze of his hard chest against her back ripped open a longing inside of her. One, two, three...four seconds before she fell into his embrace. Sensations beat upon her. He was so shockingly hard all over—his abdomen against her back, his thighs resting against the back of hers, his muscular arms wound tightly around her own... He didn’t press the part of him that she wanted to feel most, to her wicked shame.
And yet, she felt consumed by him.
She closed her eyes and leaned back into him. The scent of him filled her every breath. His heart thundered against her back. She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand, curious for the feel of him.
His skin was rough and tanned, his fingers long and square-nailed. A dark emerald jewel sat on his ring finger and Amira traced it, too, carving it into memory.
It was the first time in her life that she had been held like this by a man. It was both exhilarating and comforting—just like the man himself.
“Is that why those shadows linger in your beautiful eyes? Because you love this man you are to marry but he does not love you in return?”
“Love? I would settle for acknowledgment as a person. My father is King Tariq’s closest friend. I have been betrothed to Prince Zufar for most of my life.” A bitter laugh escaped from her mouth. “I’m to be the future Queen of Khalia, Adir.
“I’ve been trained, educated, groomed, molded to within an inch of my life