It all felt so good and right. If their relationship could be defined purely by sex then she knew they’d be a match made in heaven. The sex stuff they had worked out.
It was this. The time together, the talking – that was harder.
And yet, it wasn’t even that, was it?
She liked spending time with him, she loved talking to him. She even liked sparring with him – as a verbal preemptive to their sensual heat.
But she didn’t trust him not to hurt her, she didn’t trust him to want her like she wanted him, and she had every reason to feel like that. He didn’t want her. This day notwithstanding, he had made his desires abundantly clear.
She couldn’t have said how long they rode for. The horse moved easily through the desert and eventually Raffa tacked them in a different direction. There was nothing for miles, just sand and a blisteringly blue sky. But eventually, shapes appeared on the horizon, and as he drew closer, she was once again breathless with surprise – the beauty of what she was seeing was something she could only ever have imagined. As if from picture books or fairy tales.
A tent had been erected in the middle of the desert. Not a tent, more of a calico home, for it was enormous, and while the tent itself was a pale cream colour, there were colourful tapestries laid on the ground around it, and a series of smaller tents sat on the edge – four in total. Several hundred metres away, there was one other tent, and she could see people moving in and out of it.
“What is this place?” She asked, not loud enough for him to hear.
He answered anyway, her curiosity apparent. “From time to time, I like to get away from the palace.” He had to say the words close to her ear to be heard above the galloping of the horse.
“This is for you?” She asked louder.
“For us.”
Chloe was struck dumb. It was perfect – perfect in every way. He brought the horse to a stop on the edge of the settlement and now she saw that the people milling about were servants.
“There are facilities in here,” he nodded, pulling the fabric curtain aside to reveal a small copper basin, a toilet that looked to have its own independent plumbing, and a table with creams and oils.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, shaking her head.
He laughed, a short sound of mirth. “This is simply a washroom.”
“I know, but… it’s charming.”
“Freshen up, Sheikha. I will have lunch brought to the main tent.”
Her stomach gave a low rumble, as if on cue, and she caught Raffa’s smile as he stepped outside.
A carpet was at her feet, bright red and pink, swirled with gold. She dipped her hands in the water bowl, then splashed a little around her face and neck. She was hot, and dusty. The touch of water was sublime. She rubbed some oil into her hands then, grateful for the relief from the drying desert winds, before stepping through the tent flaps. Raffa was at the entrance to the far larger tent, talking to his chief servant. He looked up as soon as she emerged, and her heart clunked inside of her when their eyes met. Without speaking, he dismissed his servant and opened the fabric flap.
And she understood why he’d laughed when she’d admired the washroom.
This? This was something else entirely.
The tent was enormous, with a bed laid out on the floor – beautifully decorated with pink and turquoise fabric and cushions. There was a table, low to the ground, with cushions scattered around it, and the top of the tent was made of a gauze-like material, so she could clearly see the blue sky through it. At night, it would be stunning.
“Are we… staying here?” She asked, turning to frown him.
“Yes.” His eyes narrowed. “If that’s acceptable?”
She hid a smile, his apparent desire to seem like he was consulting her so at odds with his usual behavior that she couldn’t help but be amused by it. “And if it’s not?”
“The helicopter will be brought anytime you like.”
He was prepared to call her bluff; he really was trying to respect her wishes.
She nodded, courage buried deep within her. She called on it, stepping forward. “I don’t want to go anywhere.” She put her hand on his chest, her fingers splayed wide.
He stared at her and his expression was one of relief. Only for a moment, but that was enough. They’d been dancing around it, but they both wanted this, each other. This moment, together.
That was enough.
Whatever happened next, she would deal with it.
He lifted her around the waist and this time, it wasn’t to put her on a horse, it wasn’t for any purpose except to hold her body to his.
“I want to be with you,” he groaned, taking her mouth, holding her against him and tangling his tongue with hers, meshing their lips as his hands reached for her hair, pulling at it, releasing it from the confines of its style.
“Yes,” she nodded, her hands on his shoulders, pushing at his shirt, needing to find his flesh.
“Men will bring lunch any minute,” he said with a shake of his head. “And I would prefer them not to see you naked.”
She pulled away from him, her smile teasing.
“Well, I am wearing a dress,” she pointed out, so that his eyes flared wide and he groaned, reaching a hand under her skirt, finding her bottom, feeling her flesh beneath
