Page 46 of Desert King's Forbidden Temptation

‘I did dance. In my room, when no one was looking.’

‘I would like to see.’

Her throat felt strangled. ‘I don’t dance anymore.’

‘Why not?’

‘I grew up.’

‘You deserve to dance.’

She shook her head and emotions bundled through her, making her eyes sting with salty tears. ‘Don’t, Tariq.’

‘Don’t what? Tell you the truth?’

‘It’snotthe truth. Those were childish dreams. I grew out of them. I studied law and economics. I graduated with honours. I moved on. This is my life now.’

His hand dropped to her waist, holding her there, and she couldn’t help but contemplate howrighthis touch felt. How perfect and simple and true.

‘Working for the Crown Princess of Ras Sarat, advising her, strategising her marriage. These are noble pursuits, but what of your life and dreams?’

‘Why can’t this be my dream?’

‘Because you’re more than this.’

‘Don’t. Don’t belittle who I am and what I do. I like my life.’ She lifted her shoulders and the caftan slipped down again, revealing her creamy skin.

He was quiet a moment and then, slowly, oh, so slowly, he dropped his head. ‘I’m glad.’ His lips brushed her bare skin and she felt as though she’d been electrocuted. A thousand blades of lightning flashed inside her veins. She lifted a hand and clutched his shirt, holding on for dear life.

‘For some reason I cannot explain, your happiness has come to mean a lot to me. I like to think of you having everything you want in life.’

She couldn’t tell him, she didn’t dare, that she wouldneverhave everything she wanted in life. She couldn’t. Her best friend would marry the man she’d fallen head over heels in love with, and there was nothing Eloise could do about that.

CHAPTER NINE

WHENEVENTUALLYTARIQfell asleep, he had the nightmare. The same nightmare that had tormented him for years. He was drowning, unable to draw breath, but this time it was worse, because he’d now seen Eloise in the distance, and she was struggling to breathe as well. She was drowning, just out of his reach, and no matter how hard he kicked through the water, he couldn’t get to her. His lungs were burning with the effort, and his legs might as well have been weighted with cement, for all the use they were to him.

He swam harder, but the water churned, and then, she disappeared, so he ducked beneath the surface, reaching for her, looking for her, aching for her; she was nowhere.

He woke in a cold sweat, looking around disorientated and confused, until the events of the prior evening came rushing back to him: the landslide, their being trapped here, playing cards, his desire to kiss her, the boundaries she kept erecting, that he was forced to respect. The tiger, her shoulder, the feel of her flesh beneath his mouth, her responsive body curving towards his, her trembles and shivers, her warmth and softness.

How forbidden she was to him when all he wanted was to make her his, utterly and completely.

Would that cure his fixation?

Even as he thought that, he dismissed it. This wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t just desire. There was that, too, but he was fascinated byher.By everything about her. The childhood she described so carefully, omitting, he was sure, the worst details. Her school life, her professional choices, her hopes and dreams. He could listen to her talk all day, and yet, even that felt like a betrayal.

He could live with that.

He could sin and then spend a lifetime paying penance, if that was what was needed, but he had seen the angst in her face, when she’d pleaded with him to understand that she could not betray her friend in that manner. He couldn’t ask her to weaken, no matter how spectacular it would be.

If he cared about Eloise at all, he had to protect her from those feelings. He had to be strong even in the face of the biggest temptation he’d ever faced. He had to control this.

And he would. First and foremost, he was Sheikh Tariq al Hassan, exalted leader of Savisia; he could control anything. This would be no different.

She had dressed carefully before leaving the bedroom, neatly folding the caftan and replacing it on the bed. Memories of the way he’d kissed her shoulder had haunted her dreams; the skin still tickled there.

She needed the armour of her own clothes.

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