didn’t—I mean, I didn’t—see much point in bringing my own clothes from New York, especially since we’ll only be in Qusay until we’re married.”
“I see.” He was suddenly irritated by the thought of anyone telling Jasmine what to wear. He tried to shrug it off. If Jasmine didn’t care, why should he? Her relationship with Umar was none of his business. In fact, Kareef was determined to make them both forget his existence for the next few days.
Outside the palace, a bodyguard hefted the small suitcase from Kareef and carried it to the bottom of the sweeping stairs. Another assistant packed it in the front SUV of the motorcade.
Jasmine looked at the SUV and limousine behind it, and all the many bodyguards and servants bustling around the motorcade, with palpable relief. “I see we’re not traveling alone.”
“Don’t get too excited. I travel as the king of Qusay.” He gave her a sudden wicked grin. “But in the desert, that will change. As you said, in the desert I’ll be just a man. Like any other…”
He let his voice trail off suggestively and saw her shiver in the sunlight. As his chauffeur opened the door, she was very careful not to touch Kareef as she scooted past him into the backseat of the Rolls-Royce.
Sitting beside her, Kareef leaned back, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as the motorcade drove out the palace gate. She was clinging to the farthest side of the car. It almost amused him. Did she really think she would get out of this without falling into his bed?
Well, let her continue to think so. He loved nothing more than a challenge.
And she had nothing to feel guilty about. Not in this case. Nor in the other—
Memory trembled on the edge of his consciousness, threatening to darken his sunshine. He pushed the troubling memory away. He wouldn’t think of what they’d lost in the past—what he’d caused her to lose. Today would be about one thing only: pleasure.
The motorcade moved swiftly out of the city, heading northeast along the coast. But with Jasminesitting against the opposite window, doing her level best not to touch him, every mile seemed to stretch out to eternity.
He should have listened to Akmal Al’Sayr, he thought grimly. His vizier had tried to convince him to use one of his royal helicopters or planes currently shuttling foreign dignitaries to Qusay, rather than waste time traveling by car. Now Kareef wished he’d taken that advice. Coddling diplomats suddenly seemed a much lower priority than getting Jasmine into his bed.
Kareef glanced at her. She refused to look in his direction, continuing instead to stare stonily out the darkly tinted window. Behind her, he could see the bright turquoise sea shining beyond the smooth, modern highway.
Neither of them moved, but tension hummed between them.
He wanted her. Wanted to take her right here and now in the backseat of this limousine. But was that the private, discreet affair he wanted? Tossing her like a whore in the backseat of a Rolls-Royce, with bodyguards surely able to guess what went on behind darkened windows?
Kareef cursed beneath his breath. He would just have to wait.
But as they approached a fork in the road, he suddenly leaned forward.
“Turn here,” he ordered.
“Sire?” His chauffeur looked back in surprise.
“Take the old desert road,” he commanded in a voice that did not brook opposition. As his bodyguard communicated the order over a walkie-talkie to the SUV infront of the motorcade, his chauffeur switched lanes on the modern highway, heading toward the exit that would lead straight north through the sands and rock, toward the desert of Qais.
He sat back. He might have to be patient, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t get it over with as soon as possible, by taking the most direct route.
The modern highway of Qusay stretched around the circumference of the island, a new way to travel north to the principality of Qais, a harsh landscape of desert sands and cragged,
“I see.” He was suddenly irritated by the thought of anyone telling Jasmine what to wear. He tried to shrug it off. If Jasmine didn’t care, why should he? Her relationship with Umar was none of his business. In fact, Kareef was determined to make them both forget his existence for the next few days.
Outside the palace, a bodyguard hefted the small suitcase from Kareef and carried it to the bottom of the sweeping stairs. Another assistant packed it in the front SUV of the motorcade.
Jasmine looked at the SUV and limousine behind it, and all the many bodyguards and servants bustling around the motorcade, with palpable relief. “I see we’re not traveling alone.”
“Don’t get too excited. I travel as the king of Qusay.” He gave her a sudden wicked grin. “But in the desert, that will change. As you said, in the desert I’ll be just a man. Like any other…”
He let his voice trail off suggestively and saw her shiver in the sunlight. As his chauffeur opened the door, she was very careful not to touch Kareef as she scooted past him into the backseat of the Rolls-Royce.
Sitting beside her, Kareef leaned back, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as the motorcade drove out the palace gate. She was clinging to the farthest side of the car. It almost amused him. Did she really think she would get out of this without falling into his bed?
Well, let her continue to think so. He loved nothing more than a challenge.
And she had nothing to feel guilty about. Not in this case. Nor in the other—
Memory trembled on the edge of his consciousness, threatening to darken his sunshine. He pushed the troubling memory away. He wouldn’t think of what they’d lost in the past—what he’d caused her to lose. Today would be about one thing only: pleasure.
The motorcade moved swiftly out of the city, heading northeast along the coast. But with Jasminesitting against the opposite window, doing her level best not to touch him, every mile seemed to stretch out to eternity.
He should have listened to Akmal Al’Sayr, he thought grimly. His vizier had tried to convince him to use one of his royal helicopters or planes currently shuttling foreign dignitaries to Qusay, rather than waste time traveling by car. Now Kareef wished he’d taken that advice. Coddling diplomats suddenly seemed a much lower priority than getting Jasmine into his bed.
Kareef glanced at her. She refused to look in his direction, continuing instead to stare stonily out the darkly tinted window. Behind her, he could see the bright turquoise sea shining beyond the smooth, modern highway.
Neither of them moved, but tension hummed between them.
He wanted her. Wanted to take her right here and now in the backseat of this limousine. But was that the private, discreet affair he wanted? Tossing her like a whore in the backseat of a Rolls-Royce, with bodyguards surely able to guess what went on behind darkened windows?
Kareef cursed beneath his breath. He would just have to wait.
But as they approached a fork in the road, he suddenly leaned forward.
“Turn here,” he ordered.
“Sire?” His chauffeur looked back in surprise.
“Take the old desert road,” he commanded in a voice that did not brook opposition. As his bodyguard communicated the order over a walkie-talkie to the SUV infront of the motorcade, his chauffeur switched lanes on the modern highway, heading toward the exit that would lead straight north through the sands and rock, toward the desert of Qais.
He sat back. He might have to be patient, but he’d be damned if he wouldn’t get it over with as soon as possible, by taking the most direct route.
The modern highway of Qusay stretched around the circumference of the island, a new way to travel north to the principality of Qais, a harsh landscape of desert sands and cragged,
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