to stand there before her, his hand extended. “Just a woman and a man, until dawn.”
“Come,” he said again, with all that power and confidence. Heat and promise.
Anya took her time getting to her feet, not sure her legs would hold her up. But they did. And as she had hours ago, she reached over and slid her hand into his.
Once more, the heat punched through her. She pulled in a swift breath, but that only made it worse. His hand was too hard. His grip was too sure.
And the way he watched her, those dark eyes fixed on her, made her quiver.
She expected him to bear her off again, marching her through the palace with the same courtly formality he’d shown earlier.
Instead, Tarek pulled her closer to him.
With an offhanded display of strength that had her sprawling against the hard wall of his chest, and gasping a bit while she did it.
Because it had been one thing to say she wanted this. And something else to be so close to another person.
To him.
Her pulse skyrocketed as she gazed up at him. If it was possible, Tarek was even more beautiful up close. Even more compelling. He smoothed his hands over her head, sliding that scarf out of his way.
And she watched, transfixed, as he pulled a long, glossy strand of her hair between two fingers. Looking down at it, very seriously, as if it held the mysteries of the universe.
Then he shifted that look to her.
“Tarek—” she began.
His hard mouth curved. “I like my name in your mouth. But I have other priorities.”
Then he bent his head and put that stern mouth of his on hers.
Everything inside of Anya, all that fire and need, exploded.
Tarek gripped her head, he angled his jaw, and then he swept her away.
His kiss was a hard claiming. He possessed her, challenged her and dared her. Anya surged forward, pressing her palms harder against the glory that was his hard chest as if she could disappear into all his heat.
And she kissed him back, pouring everything she had into it. Into him.
Again and again.
He made a low, gloriously male sound, then tore his mouth from hers.
“No,” Anya breathed, heedless and needy. “Don’t stop.”
He laughed. Deep, dark, rich. It rolled through her, setting her alight all over again.
Anya felt swollen and desperate straight through, and he was still laughing.
“Order me around, Doctor,” he suggested, his voice moving inside her as if it was a part of her. As if it was the sun, even now, in the dark of night. “Tell me what to do and see how that works for you.”
But before she could try, mostly to see what he would do, Tarek bent slightly to sweep her into his arms.
Anya knew that none of this made sense. That she should have left with the American ambassador when she’d had the chance. That she certainly shouldn’t have exposed herself to this man, telling him secrets she’d never breathed to another living soul.
Yet she had.
What was another vulnerability to add to the list? Maybe she was lucky she hadn’t become a psychiatrist. She doubted she would enjoy knowing the inner workings of her own mind. Not when there was a king gazing down at her, his expression stern and possessive, sending a spiral of delight all the way through her.
Maybe, finally, it was time to stop thinking altogether. And to let herself feel instead.
Because she already knew what it was like to sit frozen in the dark. Literally.
Tonight, Anya intended to shine. And live. And feel everything—every last drop of sensation she was capable of feeling. Every touch, every sigh, every searing bit of flame she could hoard and call her own.
It took her a moment to realize that Tarek was moving. His powerful body was all around her, those arms of his holding her aloft as if she weighed little more than a notion. The granite wall of his chest. The tempting hollow at the base of his throat. His scent, a faint hint of smoke and what she assumed gold might smell like, warmed through and made male.
She assumed he would carry her off to his bed, wherever that was in this sprawling place, but instead he headed out through the grand, windowed doors that led outside. Anya caught a glimpse of the lights of the old city, gleaming soft against the desert night. Then he was setting her down, and it took her a moment to get her bearings, to find herself