‘No. But I’ll take any you want to throw my way.’ His lips firmed. ‘You’re not a woman easily swept off her feet, Victoria Miranda Nilsson.’
Tori shook her head, a snort of bitter laughter escaping. ‘Really? Don’t forget I’m the woman who had sex with a stranger in a prison cell after just a couple of hours’ acquaintance.’
She shivered, remembering her father’s disgust even at the airbrushed version she’d recounted to him.
In the desert what she and Ashraf had done had felt utterly right—a blessing rather than anything else. But after her father’s talk of hushing up a dirty secret and Ashraf’s talk of illegitimacy—
‘And I’m the man who found solace and hope in sharing my body with a stranger in that same prison cell.’ Firm fingers cupped her chin, easing it up. ‘You’re not ashamed of us, are you?’ He didn’t wait for her answer. ‘I’m not. You gave me a precious gift that night. Not just your body but your kindness, your passion and strength. Believe me...’ his mouth rucked up in a wry smile ‘...to a man on Death Row they were a gift from Heaven.’
His words sank deep, warming her. Despite her determination not to relive the past, sometimes she couldn’t quite believe she’d had sex with a man she didn’t know. A wounded stranger she should have been nursing instead of seducing.
Yet memories of that night held magic as well as trauma.
Tori surveyed him intently. ‘You’re not on Death Row now.’
Every sense told her he shared the passion she felt. But could she trust her instincts? Was it possible that Ashraf’s kiss had been motivated by pique at her questions and her refusal to accept marriage?
Her uncertainty surprised her. Surely the attraction between them was self-evident? Yet adrift from the world she knew, plonked into a fairy-tale palace with a handsome, powerful prince and experiencing an ardour she’d only known once before, it was easy to feel this wasn’t real.
Maybe it was wishful thinking.
Her experience of sex was pretty limited. She might work in an industry dominated by men, but that just meant she’d got into the habit of shutting down attempts to engage her interest. Having a relationship with a co-worker was a complication she didn’t need.
At her lower back one large hand splayed wide then pulled her close. Closer. Till she felt his arousal. A hot shiver raced through her and internal muscles warmed and softened.
‘No.’ His voice was rich and low, eddying deep within her. ‘And you’re not in prison here. You understand that, don’t you? You’re free to make your own choices.’
Ashraf regarded her steadily. She nodded. The claustrophobia she’d felt in this beautiful building was of her own making. Everyone here had been friendly and helpful.She’dbeen the one imagining she was confined to this part of the citadel. She’d found it easier to stay cloistered in this gorgeous apartment than to learn more about Ashraf’s home.
Was she intimidated by his royal status, or by the fact she was being forced to share Oliver?
If Bram hadn’t introduced her to Azia she’d probably never even have left this courtyard apartment. She’d have blamed it on tiredness. Or the need to protect her son from possible prejudice. When had she become so timid?
‘And so...?’
His hands went to her hips. Tori loved his touch. Pleasure shimmered through her.
She tilted her head. ‘And so...?’ She refused to admit she’d lost the thread of the conversation.
The gleam in Ashraf’s eyes told her he’d guessed, but for once she didn’t mind that he found her easy to read.
‘And so what would you like now? You’re my honoured guest. It’s my responsibility to see that your wishes are met.’
‘My wish is your command?’ Tori couldn’t prevent the laugh bursting from her lips. It sounded like anArabian Nightsfantasy. Yet Ashraf’s hard hands on her bare flesh turned her thoughts away from storybooks into an earthier direction.
‘Something like that,’ he murmured.
This time there was gravel mixed with the thick treacle of his voice. Tori shivered as it scraped her nerve-endings, drawing shuddery awareness in its wake. This, she realised, was the mesmerising voice of a man with the sexual experience of a playboy and the single-minded determination of the warrior Prince she’d come to know.
Was it any wonder her defences lay in splinters?
What was she defending herself against?
Ash... Ashraf...sought only what she longed to give.
Tori slipped her hands down over his cream robe. Her palms lingered on the swell of defined pectoral muscles and her belly clenched. Ever since that night she’d found him half-naked, cradling Oliver in those strong arms...
‘There must be something you want.’ His grip on her hips firmed and his warm breath trailed across her brow.