CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Did you mean it?”
Reigna stretched, a smile tickling the corners of her lips when she felt the hard planes of Jasiri’s naked body pressed against hers.
His arm hung possessively over her hip, pulling her into the cradle of his lap until he was so close she could feel the strong beat of his heart.
“Sir, you just sexed me stupid. I’m gonna need more information if you expect me to hold a coherent conversation with you.”
The rumble of his laughter in his chest made her snuggle closer to him, his warmth so inviting she doubted she could pull herself away even if she wanted to.
“When you said you didn’t need to be emotionally attached to me to have sex with me.”
The languid relaxation that had her bones malleable just a second ago began to stiffen. As if he’d sensed her need to flee, he pressed a gentle kiss on her bare shoulder and gave her a squeeze around her waist.
“I need to know, Reigna.”
She turned in his arms and met his gaze. There was a vulnerability there she’d never witnessed before. This man was a whole king. People had literally fallen at his feet and heaped praises on him as a matter of course like someone serving her coffee in her favorite brunching place. But here he was, needing reassurance from a wound she realized had been festering for the last two years.
“No,” she replied with a smile. “That was just bravado. I had to save face after you basically told me you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
He held up a finger. “That’s not exactly what I said.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. That’s what I heard, what it felt like.” She leveled her gaze at him before speaking again. “What about you, Jasiri? Is this just physical for you?”
He huffed in feigned frustration. “My life would be so much easier if it was.”
She slipped her thigh over his as she placed a small kiss on his chest, and his body instantly reacted, his skin pebbling up at the site of her touch.
“That’s not an answer, Mr. King.”
“I think you mean Your Majesty .”
She raked her fingers down his chest pulling a needy moan from him.
“That’s not an answer to my question, Jasiri. Is this just physical? Is that how you’d like us to proceed?”
She raised her eyes to his, needing to see his response as well as hear it. She couldn’t be in this alone. Not after everything they’d been through.
“No matter how I’ve fought it, you are part of me. I don’t want to fight this thing between us anymore, Reigna. I want us to be real again.”
Her heartbeat was just this side of too fast as she listened to him. He didn’t just want her, he wanted them. She’d known that. But hearing him say it, it soothed the unease she’d been carrying since she’d recognized she was losing her heart to him again.
“It’s just…we said this arrangement was temporary. It would be unfair of me to try to change the rules now.”
“I seem to remember a certain king-to-be telling me he could change his mind at any time without explanation. Is that still true, Your Majesty?”
She moved her body against his, making him shudder. His responsiveness to her touch had always heightened her physical need for him. Now that he’d admitted she wasn’t the only one losing in their misguided battle of wills, she needed him to dive into this headfirst just like she was.
“Is that still true, Your Majesty?” she repeated.
“Only if you agree to forget about our contract and stay.”
A tiny sliver of panic inched up her spine as her inner commitment-phobe tried to raise a red flag. She closed her eyes, refusing to permit it to surface. Fate was giving her a second chance, and she wasn’t going to let her irrational fear keep her from getting everything she wanted.
Hell, she was already married to the man. That had to count toward getting over her commitment issues, right?
She locked gazes with him, making sure he saw nothing but her sincerity in her eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, that contract has been chewed up in the shredder. I’m here for as long as you want me, Jasiri.”
She laced her fingers through his and gave them an encouraging squeeze. She let her hand slide down his chest until her fingers were tracing over the hard ridge of his abs. She kept going, her fingers threading through the thicket of curls at his groin.
Her fingers descended until they met his half-hard length. She cupped him, and he spread his legs wider, giving her an open invitation to continue her exploration.
A growl simmered at the back of his throat, making the sensitive flesh between her legs tingle.
She gave him a single stroke, and his flesh lengthened. It was thick, long, and heavy in her hand, its weight making her mouth water.
She didn’t wait for him, buried her nose in the cleft where his thigh met his groin, taking an intoxicating sniff of his spicy scent. She stroked him once more, and then licked him from his base to his tip, before swirling her tongue around his proud dome.
His hips bucked, searching for the warmth of her mouth, and she didn’t disappoint him. She glanced up while she took him as deep as she could, loving the heft of having him on her tongue. And when her eyes met his and she could see him fight for control, she knew she’d won this battle…for now.
Jasiri didn’t trust her completely, that was evident in the way he couldn’t let go. But she wouldn’t relent. She would show him better than she could tell him what she wanted and that he could trust her with his heart again. Until then, she would break down his walls one lick, one kiss, one caress at a time.
* * *
“This is heaven.”
After three weeks of him and Reigna working themselves to the bone to make the transition of power as smooth as possible, Jasiri had decided a weekend away with his new bride on the royal private islet was just what the two of them needed. The brilliant sun, gleaming white sand, and doing nothing but lounging, eating, talking, and making love would cure the weariness their new roles caused.
Jasiri watched as Reigna plopped down on a thick beach towel spread out upon the plush chaise of the cabana. Her deep brown skin glistened with rivulets of water that cascaded down every inch of her. Between the sheen of water on her dewy skin and her pinup-girl-style two-piece swimsuit, Jasiri’s body responded the same way it always did when he was this close to her: with want.
“I take it you’re enjoying Bandari Ya Kisiwa.” She cracked one eye open as she regarded him.
“Bandari, who now?”
He found so much amusement in her forthrightness. Unlike many he’d met from such a privileged background as hers, there was no pretense where Reigna was concerned. She wasn’t brash. She didn’t speak carelessly or without thought. Her business would never have become as successful as it had if she hadn’t learned how to prevent people from knowing exactly what she was thinking.
But there was no cowering behind artifice for her. She spoke plainly so that her audience knew she’d meant exactly what she’d said.
“Bandari Ya Kisiwa. It translates roughly to Haven Isle in Swahili.”
She pulled herself up on her elbows, giving him her full attention and a full view of her plump bosom, and for a moment he was more than a little distracted. When he heard her calling his name, he returned his gaze to her face.
“Jasiri, you speak Swahili?”
“Among several other languages. You kind of have to be a polyglot if you’re going to be a dignitary. Swahili, Yoruba, and English are our national languages, so I was taught all three from birth.”
She tilted her head, and he could see the questions forming in her head. Since she’d arrived, anytime she’d wanted to know more about his country’s or his people’s history, she always reproduced this gesture.
“I thought Swahili was an Eastern African language. If most people stolen during the Transatlantic Slave Trade were from the west coast of Africa, how did Swahili become one of your people’s national languages?”
“The people who founded this nation were a mix of enslaved people who’d been born in the American colonies, recent Yoruban abductees from Nigeria, and new abductees who were taken from what is now known as the Democratic Republic of the Congo where Swahili is still spoken. That’s how all three languages became our national languages.”
Something bright shone on her face, and he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. It was sort of wistful yet reverent, and he wanted to know more about it.
“African American culture is rich and deep. Its connection to the ancestral lands we came from are still strongly visible. But our culture isn’t treated as if it’s part of the American cultural identity. It’s a subculture, something niche, and often positioned as oppositional to American culture. Sitting here listening to you talk about your historical legacy and knowing it’s celebrated by your people and your government, it’s…inspiring.”
He’d heard it said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. For Jasiri, his national and ancestral pride was a gateway to his.
Her awe of his history, his people, his land, it was like a magic rope threading itself around his heart, and Reigna knew how to tug on it just so it was near bursting in his chest.
He pulled her into his arms, something he was doing more and more since that night three weeks ago where fear for her safety had driven him to forget about the detachment he tried to encourage between them. Sitting here with her now, he was so glad his foolish plan hadn’t worked because being near her, with her, did something to his soul that he couldn’t willingly relinquish if he tried.
“Every time I hear you speak about Nyeusi, its history, and its people, the more I know my wisest decision as king was choosing you for its queen.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, tugging herself closer to him and covering his leg with hers. He tightened his hold on her, a pleasurable sigh escaping his lips as his soul reveled in the peace being in her arms brought.
They remained silent until a loud grumble rent the calming sounds of the water’s movement back and forth across the shore.
They chuckled in unison, Reigna taking her hand and placing it across the soft expanse of her belly.
“I guess I worked up an appetite swimming.”
“If my queen wishes to feast, then she shall feast.”
He grabbed his phone from the nearby table and sent off a quick text.
In a matter of moments, several staff members stepped into the grand cabana made of sandstone and cedar, placing platters of food on a long table.
Once the staff was gone, Jasiri took her hand and guided her to the table where she could choose her fill.
She pointed to a white pastry box sitting in the center.
“Are those from…?”
As a surprise, he’d had an order of pastries hand-delivered from Buttercooky Bakery, her favorite bakery in Floral Park, New York. It was an extravagant thing to do that he normally wouldn’t indulge in. Seeing her full lips pull into an excited wide grin, he decided he’d have fresh pastries from this place every day and twice on Sunday if she gifted him with such a beautiful smile.
“Yes,” he replied. “I know you love their raspberry-filled croissants, so I had two dozen flown to the island.”
“You really are like a prince from the fairy tales.”
He shook his head while grabbing a plate and utensils and then presented her with the golden-brown croissant with thick red ribbons of stripes of raspberry swirling around it.
“No, I’m a real-life king, milady. Way better than those fairy tales.”
He handed her the plate and she sniffed, the aroma making her smile grow wider.
“These smell delicious.” She took another sniff before looking up at Jasiri.
“Is everything okay?” He waited for her to respond. He’d wanted this surprise to be perfect for her; if something wasn’t right, he needed to know.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said and sniffed it again. “Just different. I think they may have started using some kind of almond extract or flavoring because there’s this almond scent mixing in with raspberry and butter that I don’t recall.”
Panic rose up in Jasiri, forcing him to smack the plate out of her hand as he yelled, “Don’t eat that!”
He pulled her away from the table as he pressed the screen on his smart watch, activating a blaring alarm that made them both cover their ears.
His adjutant and several guards poured from the beach house and crowded around the cabana in a protective, military stance.
“What’s happening, My King?” Jasiri could hardly make out Sherard’s words over the loud beating of his heart blending into the shrieking alarm.
“Someone just tried to poison the queen.”