LITMIR.BIZ

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eaten since she’d left New Zealand. She attempted to shift, and found she couldn’t. One heavy male leg pinned her lower body to the bed and the arm curved possessively under her breasts immobilized her torso. Her stomach growled again.

      “Tariq.” She turned her head and kissed his neck. Under her lips, his skin was warm and tasted faintly of the desert and the salt and spice of their loving. “Wake up.”

      He groaned in his sleep and tightened his embrace. Sighing, Jasmine put her hands on his shoulders and shook him.

      “You wish for your ride already, Mina?” His sleepy question made her turn bright red. Now that she wasn’t in the grip of passion, she couldn’t believe her boldness.

      She frowned. “I wish for food. I’m starving.”

      He chuckled and rolled over, taking her with him. She ended up sprawled on his chest. His eyes glinted at her from behind half-closed lids. “What will you give me if I feed you?”

      Her stomach growled again. Loudly. “Peace.”

      This time he laughed, his chest rumbling under her hands. “Ah Mina, you are never what is expected.” He gave a longsuffering sigh. “I’ll see if I can find you food.”

      He put her aside with careful hands and slipped out of bed. Jasmine couldn’t help watching him. The well-defined muscles of his back bunched as he stood up and bent over to pick up the robe he’d pushed out of her hands.

      “Like what you see?” he asked, without turning around.

      Jasmine felt herself blush again. “Yes.”

      He was pleased by her answer. She saw his smile when he turned to walk out, shrugging into the robe.

      “Where are you going?”

      “There is food in the dining area. I’ll bring it to you.”

      After he left, Jasmine quickly found her rumpled gown and slithered into it. She was sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets, hoping the shadows hid the sheer quality of the gown, when he came back. Not saying anything, Tariq put the tray of food in the center of the bed and lounged on the other side like a lazy panther, watching her eat.

      “So, what’s my name now?” she asked, once the sharp edge of her appetite had been dulled to something bearable.

      “Jasmine al-Huzzein Coleridge-Donovan Zamanat.”

      Jasmine’s eyes widened and her hand stopped midway to her lips. She stopped chewing. “Good grief. What a mouthful! I didn’t know that I got to keep my maiden name.”

      “Zulheil’s women have always been cherished.” He stretched lazily. “It’s why we do not ask them to convert their religion upon marriage. The choice is yours.”

      The words sent a warm glow through her. Yes, she thought again, there was hope. “So Donovan was your mother’s name?”

      A flicker of darkness seemed to shadow his eyes, but his response was easy. “You know she was Irish.” He plucked a fig off Jasmine’s plate and put it into his mouth. For a minute, she just stared at the sensuous shape of his lips, reminded of the things he’d done to her with that clever, clever mouth.

      “When we have a child, he or she will have al-Huzzein Coleridge Zamanat as their name. Al-Huzzein Zamanat is the name of the ruling family, but their mother’s name is also always carried by the children.”

      He glanced curiously at her when she didn’t reply. She blushed and transferred her attention back to her food. The thought of carrying Tariq’s child caused bittersweet pain. She knew she had to tell him her secret…but not now.

      “You have her eyes.”

      “Yes. And…” He paused. When Jasmine looked up, he smiled his dangerous smile. “Some would say I have her temper.”

      “They’re obviously bright people.” She picked up a dried apricot and fed it to him. He caught her wrist in a lightning-fast move and licked her fingers clean, like a great big cat lapping at his meal. His eyes never left hers.

      “You must miss them.” Swallowing, she fought the sensual promise in the air to address something far more important.

      He looked away from her, into the shadows. “They are gone. I must lead my people now. I have no time to mourn.”

      Jasmine hurt for him. Everyone should be given the chance to grieve. Even a sheik. She’d opened her mouth to offer her support when he took the tray of food and put it on the floor. “Enough talking.” He tumbled her to the bed.

      Tariq did not wish to talk of his parents. The pain of their deaths had been intense. What he’d discovered afterward had almost driven him mad with grief. His beautiful, loving mother had been dying of cancer. His parents had been on the way back from a clinic when the car crashed.

      The woman he’d trusted most in the world had kept a secret that had stolen her from him before her death. He’d had so many things to tell her, but because she hadn’t had enough faith in him to share her secret, he would never get the chance. And he’d never know if there was something he could’ve done that would have averted tragedy.

      Shaking off the memories, he pressed Jasmine into the mattress, pleased by her instant acceptance. Here, there would be no lies between them. There would be no secrets in the pleasure their bodies found in one another. He shoved aside the errant thought that there couldn’t be such passion without emotional consequences, unwilling to concede that this tiny woman, with her gentle smiles and lush sensuality, might have already found a foothold in the lost places of his soul.

      “You are sore?”

      He could tell that she blushed by the hotness of her skin under his palm. Her heart’s ragged beat became even faster.

      “No.” She hid her face against his neck.

      “I won’t force you, Mina. Never will I take what is not freely given.” He stroked her back and pressed a line of kisses down her throat, luxuriating in her softness. Mina’s delicious curves made him want to conquer her feminine secrets with slow, languorous enjoyment.

      “Can I force you?”

      He was startled for an instant by the suggestive whisper, and then he smiled. “Do you want me so much then, my wife?”

      “You know I want you.” Those eyes of hers flashed fire at him, unexpected and delightful. Again he had to acknowledge that this Mina wasn’t the same girl who’d almost destroyed him four years ago.

      He leaned down and tasted her lower lip. Her teeth scraped gently over his in return. Yes, he thought, this Mina was no tame kitten to be ordered to heel. This Mina had claws. Would she use them to fight him or fight for him?

      New excitement flickered through his bones.

      Two days later, he walked into a turret room at one end of their suite, just in time to see Mina raise her arms above her head and say, “Perfect!”

      Surrounded on three sides by clear glass, the room was bathed in sunshine. As Mina danced across the floor, dust motes whirled with her, as if excited by her laughter. His whole body clenched. Buried feelings shook off their bindings. So easily, she could once again hold his heart in her hands.

      Shocked by the knowledge of his susceptibility to a woman whose loyalty had never belonged to him, he fought off the tenderness she’d aroused.

      “What’s perfect?” he asked at last.

      Startled, Jasmine froze and met Tariq’s dark gaze. His power and charisma seemed to have increased in the hours that they’d been apart. “This room,” she managed to answer. “I thought I’d use it for a workroom. Is that okay?”

      Tariq moved farther inside. “This is your home, Mina. Do as you wish.”

      His generosity gave lie to his harsh words in the car. Jasmine smiled and hugged him. He didn’t react, and she drew

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