Chapter 21
“I don’t think I heard you right. Would you mind repeating what you just said?” I turn to face him, absolutely certain I’ve lost my mind.
Thank God the security guards can’t see or hear us, because I’m pretty sure I screamed.
I have no idea how he managed to get us access to a monument like this so late at night, but then again, with Kaled, nothing seems impossible.
I take in the sight of his broad chest beneath the tailored suit, the strength in his shoulders, the commanding posture.
His face is framed by a short, dark beard that outlines a proud jaw. There’s a slight imperfection along the bridge of his nose.
And finally, my gaze finds his eyes—sharp, analytical, and unfortunately for me, devastatingly sensual.
Kaled is the embodiment of wealth and power.
And this beautiful man, prince of my homeland and soon-to-be sheikh, has just asked me to marry him?
“You heard me perfectly.” His voice is calm, unshakable as always, but I notice the tightening of his jaw, as if my hesitation irritates him.
For the first time, I look at him without fear.
Not as Rheadur’s heir but as a man.
The elegant clothes do nothing to hide the wild, almost primal energy beneath his surface. It’s as if, at any moment, he could throw me over his shoulder, carry me into a room, and decide my fate.
That should terrify me, make me want to run, but instead, a shiver of desire shoots through me.
“I want you as my wife.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Is the idea of being mine really that absurd?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t even know where to start, Kaled. First of all, you’re a prince. One who’ll likely become my sheikh in just a few days. I’m not your equal.”
“I’m the one who decides that. Now come up with a better excuse.”
“It’s not an excuse; it’s a fact. I’m not the right choice,” I say, stepping back. Even though we’re outdoors, I can’t seem to breathe. My body feels overheated, and my mind has short-circuited trying to make sense of where this proposal even came from.
“You’re the only choice I’ve ever considered.”
“Why?”
He doesn’t answer, of course. Instead, he steps closer. When I feel the heat radiating from his body, my pulse goes wild.
I’m backed against the stone ledge, his arms braced on either side of me, trapping me without touching.
“I want you.”
I swallow hard, my eyes fixed on his lips as he forms the words, words that hit me with the same force as if he’d told me he wanted me naked right now.
I bite my lower lip, nervous and excited at the same time. “We don’t even know each other,” I argue and immediately feel foolish. For a man who’s been photographed with countless women, knowing one deeply probably isn’t the point.
The thought irritates me and makes me jealous.
His face lowers, now so close that I can feel his breath against my skin. My heart pounds erratically in my chest.
Before I can think another coherent thought, his mouth claims mine.
When he kissed me last night, he was careful, restrained, his hands soft, his touch deliberate.
Now, he grabs me by the hips in a way I never imagined letting any man touch me, except, perhaps, my future husband.
The contact is intimate, possessive, domineering.
The press of our bodies and the hungry way he devours my lips make me surrender far too quickly.
I cling to him, craving more, wanting everything, even if I don’t yet understand what “everything” means.
The world falls away. There’s only us. Mouths exploring, bodies trembling, desire consuming.
Each stroke of his tongue is an invitation into the unknown, a promise of delirious pleasure. Heat blooms between my thighs, liquid and burning.
My hand tangles in his hair, pulling him closer, silently begging him not to stop.
When he draws me against the hardness of his desire, I don’t flinch. His hand slides down my leg, lifting my dress slightly, fingers grazing bare skin. I moan, unable to hide how his touch is driving me insane.
His mouth trails down my neck, and when he bites gently, I lean into him, afraid my legs might give out.
“You want me too, ayuni[31],” he murmurs. “Why fight it?”
Did he just call me his eyes? Among our people, that expression is sacred. Eyes are considered precious, almost divine.
It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s stopped kissing me and is just looking at me now.
Heat floods my cheeks at how shamelessly I let myself go. Even so, when my hands rest on his chest, I’m not sure whether I want to push him away or pull him closer.
“A marriage based on desire?” I ask.
“It’s more than most people have to start with.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never even dated.”
“I know that.”
“And you still want me as your wife? I’m not experienced like the women you’ve been with.”
Something flickers in his eyes. “The women I’ve been with? I have no one else. The only woman who matters to me is standing right in front of me.”
The temptation to believe him is almost unbearable, and precisely because of that, I force myself to remember the truth. I can still picture the gossip magazines Jazmina receives every week.
“Your sister gets those celebrity magazines,” I remind him.
“If I wanted one of the women I’ve been seen with, I’d have proposed to her. I want you.”
“You’re asking me to marry you because you’ll need a wife once you become sheikh?” I ask, throwing caution aside. Right now, I don’t care that he’s a prince. I see only a man asking a woman to be his wife.
In our society, loveless marriages aren’t rare. Still, until I heard my father offer me to another man, I’d never even considered the idea. I’d never met anyone who stirred my interest, and I still held on to the hope of leaving for England.
“That’s part of it,” he admits. “It’s expected, and it’ll please my father.”
This time I know I want to push him away, but when I try, he catches both my wrists behind my back and, with his other hand, cups my face.
“But there isn’t a force on Earth that could make me marry someone I didn’t desire. You set my blood on fire, Adeela.”
“You desire me,” I whisper, swallowing hard.
“Like I’ve never desired another woman. Is my proposal really that bad?
To stand by my side as my wife?” His voice is persuasive, hypnotic.
“You’d be safe for the rest of your life.
And so would your mother. I could bring her to live with us in Rheadur.
Your father would never be able to harm either of you again. ”
“You’d really do that? Protect my mother?”
“Yes. She’d have the best care and spend whatever time she has left near her only daughter.”
“I want to study.”
“I wouldn’t forbid you. But it would have to be in Rheadur. If no university there offers the program you want, I’ll build one. Whatever course you wish. But I want you by my side.”
“You make it sound like a contract.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” he says. “I want to contractually make you my wife.”