‘I intended to use you as—how did you put it?’
‘A scapegoat,’ she murmured quickly.
‘Yes, a scapegoat.’ His smile was laced with self-mockery. ‘You were right.’
‘I know.’ She looked away from him but he lifted his fingers to her chin, gently tilting her face back to his. His fingers moved lower, tracing the pulse point at the base of her neck. He must have been able to feel the frantic racing of it.
‘I do want you.’
She didn’t say anything.
‘But the boundaries of what this is—of what it can be—are something I have no power to affect.’
Her head felt dizzy. She swayed a little. He put a hand out, wrapping it around her waist, holding her against him. They were bound like that, drawn together, unable to be apart. At least for now.
‘The peace is tenuous. And making it last is the most important thing I will ever do in my life. I must make this work—my people deserve my absolute dedication to this cause. If news were to break that something personal was happening between us, you a Qadir and me a Haddad...’
She swallowed. ‘We slept together once. No one needs to know.’
His brow creased, his eyes grew serious. ‘I’m not talking about then. Right now, this day, standing here with you, I want you, Johara. I want more of you. All of you. While you’re here in this country, I want you in my life, my bed, I want you to myself whenever we can manage it. I can offer you nothing beyond this—the decision is yours. Is this enough?’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘IS THIS ENOUGH?’
The sun slipped beyond the horizon, bathing the sky in the most magical, iridescent colours. The beating of the falcon’s wings was slow and rhythmic, lulling her even as she felt the urgency of what he was asking. She tried to swallow; her mouth was drier than the desert sands.
There was a small part of her capable of rational thought and it was telling her that no, what he was offering wasn’t enough. But it had to be. A little time with Amir was better than nothing; she knew it was temporary but she couldn’t muster the strength to object to that—not if the alternative was that they close the door on whatever this was once and for all.
She blinked up at him, the inevitability of this completely breathtaking, and swayed closer. He inhaled deeply, as though breathing her in, and she smiled.
‘Yes.’ Relief flooded her. It was the right decision.
He made a groaning sound as he dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her even as his hands reached for the bottom of her tunic and pushed at it, lifting it just high enough to expose an inch of midriff. It was like breaking a seal; the moment his fingertips connected with her naked flesh she ached for him in a way that wouldn’t be repressed. Her hands pushed at his robes, impatient and hungry, stripping them from his body as he did the same to her, revealing their nakedness simultaneously.
The sun dropped down completely; darkness began to curl through the sky. He drew her to her knees, kneeling opposite, kissing her, his hands wrapping around her as he eased her backwards: carefully, gently. The rooftop wasn’t large, there was just space for them to lie together, and little more. He brought his body over hers, his eyes scanning her features, searching for something she couldn’t fathom. Or perhaps she could, because she smiled and nodded, in response to his unanswered question, and then pushed up and kissed him, her mouth teasing him, her fingertips playing with the hair at his nape.
He drew his mouth from her lips to her collarbone, lighting little fires beneath her skin everywhere he kissed, his tongue lashing her to the edge of her sanity. She was tipped over the brink when he flicked one of her nipples; she arched her spine in a silent invitation, her fingernails dragging down his back. It reminded her of the way she’d marked him in the maze, making her smile—she lifted up and bit his shoulder, sinking her teeth into the flesh there and laughing as he straightened to fix her with a look that was equal parts smouldering and surprised.
His hands trapped hers, holding them over her head; she was no longer laughing. She couldn’t. The power of what they both wanted was almost terrifying. He pushed her legs apart with his knee then kissed her, hard, her body completely trapped by his, her needs driven by him.
‘No turning back,’ he said into her mouth, pushing the words deep into her soul, where they took hold and filled her with relief. She didn’t want to turn back. From the moment she’d discovered who he was, she’d wanted this—come hell or high water.
‘No turning back,’ she agreed, breaking the kiss just so she could meet his eyes, in the hope he would see the seriousness of her response.
He claimed her mouth as he drove his arousal between her legs and into her feminine core. The relief of welcoming him back brought tears to her eyes. She kissed him with all the fierceness of her desire, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his back, holding him deep inside, allowing her body to glory in his possession. He began to move, hard and fast, as though driven by an ancient tempo that only they could hear.
His body was her master, and hers was his. Beneath the darkening sky, Amir made her his, watching as pleasure exploded through her again and again before giving into his own heady release, filling her with all that he was, holding her to him, their breath racked, their pleasure beyond compare.
Amir lay atop Johara for several minutes after, but it could have been days or months; there on the roof of a tower in the middle of the desert, time had no meaning. They were particles of life in amongst the sand and the history, as utterly a part of the earth as the elements that made this striking, barren landscape what it was.
Johara felt every bit a desert princess, overcome with a sense of her own power. Seeing the effect she had on him—that they had on each other—made her wonder at how they’d been able to resist doing this for as many days as they had!
Her eyes found the stars overhead—the sky had darkened to an inky black now—and she smiled at the thought that the celestial bodies alone had witnessed this coming together. It made it feel all the more powerful and important; all the more predestined.
Eventually, he pushed up onto one elbow, his gaze roaming her face possessively, as if looking for a sign of how she felt. So she smiled, and lifted a hand to cup his cheek, drawing his attention to her eyes. ‘That was perfect.’
His features bore a mask of tightness but then he relaxed, smiling, rolling off Johara but simultaneously catching her and bringing her to lie with her head on his chest, his arm wrapped around her. She curled her body to his side, and his hand stroked her hip, his fingers moving with a slowness that could have induced drowsiness. Except Johara wasn’t tired; far from it. She felt alive in a thousand and one ways. Her body had caught fire and she wasn’t sure those fires would ever be extinguished.