LITMIR.BIZ

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opened the door only to meet Olivia’s fearsome blue gaze. “Yes?”

      “I am informed, by a member of staff, by the way, not you, that we are to be married in two weeks.”

      “Yes,” he bit out.

      He would not allow her entry. His head was entirely filled with the images in that book and the images painted by the explicit instructions. And if he allowed her to get too close, he would only be tempted to put his new education to practical use.

      “That’s impossible. It takes months to plan an event of that magnitude. You forget, I have been through this before.”

      Yes, she had. In this, and in the things he had just been researching, she had more experience than he did.

      But he frightened people. And he found that was more effective than experience at times.

      Not with sex, obviously, but in the planning of a wedding, yes.

      “It is eminently possible. This will not be like your first wedding.”

      “Well, it couldn’t be. Good luck getting five hundred live doves this late in the game.”

      “I cannot tell if you’re joking or not.”

      “I’m not. My first wedding was ridiculous. Beautiful, but ridiculous.”

      “I cannot promise this wedding will be less ridiculous. Less extravagant, certainly.”

      “Two weeks?”

      He arched a brow. “Did you want more time?”

      She shook her head resolutely. “No. I am decided. But I’m doubtful that you can pull this off in two weeks.”

      “Why would you doubt? I have you to help.”

      “I can’t decide if I feel complimented or put upon.”

      “Why choose one? You are a woman, and I’m quickly learning that means you can be both.”

      “You do learn quickly,” she said.

      He hoped so.

      “Two weeks,” he reiterated.

      “Two weeks,” she said. “But, Tarek, next time, tell me yourself when you set our wedding date.”

      He nodded, attempting a smile, because this, he was confident, was a joke of sorts. “Next time.”

      * * *

      Two weeks passed quickly. Were Tarek a beloved monarch who had been on the throne for years, he could see the point of creating a spectacle out of his wedding. For the media, for the citizens. But as he was not, he felt there were better ways to spend his country’s money than on a lavish event they had not chosen, and one he and Olivia certainly didn’t need.

      He had, in the past few weeks, spent time looking at photos of Olivia. It was easier than talking to her to gather information. Perhaps not the most up-front way of going about getting to know her, but he had been avoiding her since the kiss.

      During that research he had seen photos of her at many social events. And he had seen her first husband. Polished, as blond as she was. He had seen their wedding. An intricate event that had lasted two days and commanded the attention of the media worldwide.

      And then Tarek had seen pictures of her with himself. Mainly unsmiling, definitely not polished.

      There was a photo of her holding his face, just after the speech. Her hands were so very pale on his dark skin. Highlighting the differences between them. She had said she did not think of herself as being part of her first husband still, and yet, looking at the pictures, he could see that she had been. They blended.

      Whereas he…he did not look as if he belonged with her.

      Of course, that was immaterial. They were marrying each other anyway. Today, in fact.

      Which meant that tonight he would be out of excuses for not consummating the attraction between them. He gritted his teeth. They were not excuses. He had valid reasoning for resisting the heat that fired in his blood whenever she touched him. What he had said to her about his brother was true. Malik had been a man entirely ruled by his own desires. Tarek was a man made entirely of resistance. A man who had learned to shun everything unnecessary.

      Seeing to his wife’s physical needs now fell under the banner of his responsibility, he could not deny that. But giving in to temptation in his bedroom after the speech seemed a violation of everything he was.

      He had wanted her then. Hard, and fast. He had known it would be fast.

      Heat lashed him like a whip.

      He was more prepared now than he had been then. He had read not just one, but several books on the subject. And he had learned a great deal about female anatomy. He was grateful that he had, because he’d had no idea just how intricate the mechanics of the act could be.

      Neither had he anticipated just how much his body would be captivated with the promise of it.

      He had spent thirty years denying his impulses. His needs.

      The prospect of no longer denying certain impulses loomed large. The thought, the very idea, had worked its way under his skin like a bullet, traveling through his body, blooming outward slowly, looking for a place to land where it might destroy whatever it touched.

      Not the most delightful analogy. But then, he wasn’t surprised, considering he was rarely delightful.

      Olivia’s first husband had been delightful. All of Tarek’s research had brought him to that conclusion. He wondered how quickly she would tire of being with a man who wasn’t. Though he had not coerced her into this. Far from that. She had been the one to come to him. The one to present a case for why he needed her.

      Not for the first time he wondered what she was getting out of this. If she had thought to replace what she had lost, to recapture what it was to be royalty, she had most certainly come to the wrong place. Her life in Alansund had been filled with parties, glittering affairs, delightful excursions on the lake, picnics with her husband, the king.

      Tarek could honestly say he would not be engaging in any of that.

      Sex, however, would not be something he denied her. He was ready now. Preparation always brought a clearer head. Now that he had a plan, he would remain in command of his body, of his impulses when the time came. And in that way, he was determined to please her. Because it certainly seemed more desirable than throwing an increased number of parties.

      For a start, it only required there to be two of them in the room. For another thing, Olivia would be naked.

      He could not deny that added incentive.

      He ignored the tightening in his gut. He could not focus on that. He had to focus on getting through this day.

      He turned and faced the mirror, tightening the black tie he wore. When given the option, he had chosen a Western-style suit for the day, seeing as he was marrying a Western woman. He had thought hard about it. Because he cared deeply for his people and for their traditions.

      But in the end, it was Olivia he had dressed for.

      He had no idea of what she might wear. Part and parcel to his avoidance of her, both in the past couple of weeks, and completely today, as she had informed him coolly during their last brief encounter, that it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride on the day of the wedding.

      He had not told her then that he didn’t believe in luck. Because she very clearly did, and he did not want to hurt her feelings again. He’d been very put out by the fact that he had. In addition to lacking sensibilities, Tarek also imagined that he lacked feelings. His soft, pretty fiancée most certainly possessed more than he did.

      Naturally, he did not know how to consider them, as nothing inside him reflected her internal workings. Which meant he would simply have to watch. And he would have to try. He could not trust his dealings with the woman to be intuitive.

      The

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