Bound by the Sultan's Baby Read online

  The doors to the elevator were heavy and for a moment they did not budge and she wondered if he had forgotten to unlock them.

  She was almost frantic, but suddenly they slid to one side and she stepped in and closed them.

  His exotic fragrance lingered in the air and she leant against the soft cushioned wall.

  The light was dim and she took a second, or maybe ten, just to imprint this moment for, she knew, things between them could never be the same again.

  Oh, she accepted this was just one night, but it would be the absolute night of her life and she would never regret it, Gabi swore.

  She went to press the button but before she did so the elevator jolted, and she guessed Alim would have known she was inside and was impatient for her to arrive.

  It was he who had pressed the summons.

  For he was impatient.

  Alim was an ordered person.

  Even as the elevator lifted her towards him, he made plans. Tonight was not the time to offer her a position here at the hotel and as his lover; he would wait until tomorrow when his head was clearer.

  For now, he would take her to the bedroom and make very slow love to her, for he knew she was inexperienced and deserved due care.

  And for once there was tomorrow.

  Yes, Alim made plans...but then he saw her. She was flushed in the face and her hands moved with his to open the gated doors. Their fingers met, and haste was born.

  Gated elevators were not so good for self-control, for they started to kiss through the gates. Dirty, fevered kisses as their hands reached through the bars.

  It was ridiculous—one second apart and they could open them and be together, but even a second apart felt too long.

  For the greater good she stepped back as Alim wrenched open the gate and rather than behaving shyly and reticently, as in her dreams she had been, she simply toppled into his arms.

  How, he wondered, had he resisted her for so long?

  ‘I hated it when you came up here with her...’

  They were jealous words but she felt free to say them and he knew exactly the time Gabi referred to.

  ‘You will recall that I sent her back down,’ Alim said as he kissed her hard against the wall.

  ‘Why?’ she demanded.

  ‘I was at risk of saying your name.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You know why,’ Alim said, and mid-hallway, a long way from the entrance to his lounge, let alone the bedroom door, he recalled that incident. ‘Because I was hard for you.’

  He was hard for her now.

  Her hands were in his hair and though she was unskilled in her kiss, so untamed and frantic was her mouth it was effort that was rewarded.

  His hands dug hard into her bottom as they kissed; he felt her wriggle and Gabi let out an ‘Ow’ as he dug into her bruise.

  ‘It’s sore there,’ she said, for all her senses felt heightened and she saw him frown in concern that he had hurt her. ‘Where I fell,’ she further explained.

  Oh, yes.

  His apartment might just as well be in Venice, for the corridor was simply too long for both of them; he would have to drag her, like a marathon runner across the finishing line. Oh, her determination was there but her willpower had gone at the same moment as his.

  Still he kissed her hard against the wall, his tongue forcing apart her lips and his hands holding Gabi’s wrists by her sides.

  She ached to touch him, but he held her tight as he kissed her hard. Her arms attempted to flex, but his grip tightened and then suddenly released.

  ‘Bed,’ he said.

  ‘Please,’ she told him.

  They fell through the door and were greeted by warmth and the scent of wood and pine and a fire lit in the grate.

  It surprised Gabi, for she had expected opulence but not warmth.

  He was behind her and the intention was bed but so warm was the room and so wanting the flesh that his hand came to her zipper.

  ‘Show me where you hurt,’ he said.

  Gabi screwed her eyes closed for she wanted pitch blackness before she was naked but her dress was already sliding down.

  She had felt beautiful in it, but now she was scared that the unwrapping of the parcel might reveal less than delicious contents.

  Instead, she heard a low moan as he ran a finger down her spine.

  ‘Alim...’ Gabi breathed as she felt his fingers in her knickers, sliding them down.

  Then he knelt and she felt his breath on her bottom and then his mouth soft and warm, and she thought she might fold over.

  Her thighs were shaking as she stepped out of her knickers.

  His hands splayed her thighs so that she stood in her lovely high heels with her legs spread a little apart. He kissed the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, then kissed the new purple bruise and it was bliss, but a bliss that could not last, for either of them, for more was needed for such pleasure to be sustained.

  He stood then, undid her bra and turned her around.

  He was completely dressed.

  As if he had just come in to check on his staff.

  You could not tell he had been on his knees between her thighs.

  ‘I feel at a disadvantage,’ she admitted, for she was naked apart from her shoes.

  ‘Yet you have the complete advantage,’ Alim said, for she could bring him back to his knees if she so chose.

  Instead, she took off her shoes.

  They made her unsteady—or was that Alim?—for his eyes never left her face as he shrugged off his jacket.

  Gabi stood perfectly still, yet her breath came in pants as if she had been sprinting. His fingers reached for a nipple, taking it between finger and thumb, and then he looked down. Gabi swallowed as he lowered his head and took a leisurely taste; to steady herself, her hand went for his head.

  But he removed it.

  Her breast was wet and cool from his mouth as he removed his tie and shirt.

  Oh, she had wanted to see him for so long. His skin was like burnt caramel and his chest was wide, his arms strong. She looked at the fan of hair and the dark puckered skin of his nipples, and she too wanted her taste. For a moment she resisted, for there were other feasts to be had.

  She ran a hand along his upper arm and it was an unexpected move for Alim but he liked the soft touch of her hands and the slight pinch of her fingers.

  Then she looked down at the snake of hair and the swell beneath and she bit on her lip because she knew tonight was going to hurt.

  ‘I’ll be gentle.’

  ‘Really?’

  And there was a dry edge to her voice, a smoky provocative edge that even Gabi had not heard in herself before.

  She was stroking the crinkle of hair on his stomach and then her mouth went to his flat nipple; she licked the salty skin and this time it was Alim who held her head and moaned at the soft nip of her teeth. And it was Gabi who slid down his zipper.

  Alim had anticipated reticence, yet her touch was eager.

  They both stood naked now, so there was no disadvantage, not a single one.

  She could see and feel and touch his desire, which she did, stroking him at first then abandoning him erect so that she could reclaim his kiss.

  He was damp and hard against her stomach and she was burning on the inside. She had dreamed of being kissed on his bed.

  Instead, they did not make it past the fire.

  They knelt, though their mouths remained engaged, sharing hot, wet kisses as they sank back onto their heels. His body was magnificent, his shoulders were wide as she ran her hands over them.

  Always, she had felt cumbersome.

  Not tonight.

  He felt her lips stretch into a smile.

  ‘What?’ he asked, and pulled his head back a fraction.

  ‘You always make me want to sit up straighter.’

  ‘Sit up straighter, then.’

  She had to fight to do so because, as he traced her clavicle with his tongue, she wanted to fold in two. Th
en down to her breast and he tasted it again, only slowly and deeply while massaging the other, rolling the swollen nipple between finger and thumb.

  ‘Sit up straight,’ he warned, as she started to sink into his skilled caress, which crept lower and lower.

  She rested her arms on his shoulders as his fingers slipped into her tight hollow; she let out a sob of both pain and pleasure as he stretched and probed her, readying her for him.

  She could sit up straight no more so he laid her down on the floor, stroking her and kissing her all the while.

  His fingers did not rush, though his hand was insistent.

  She went to push it away at one point for he made her want to scream, but instead Gabi clenched her jaw. He spoke in Arabic and his words, though not understood, matched her urgent desire.

  He was passionate, sensual and far from cold as he coached her those final steps home.

  ‘Come,’ he told her, licking his lips, and she felt that if she did not then his lips would ensure that she did. Gabi succumbed to the pleasure, simply letting go.

  She was tight around his fingers as her thighs clamped and her bottom lifted. Watching her pleasure was intense for Alim, and he fought his urgent need to take her.

  Alim too was breathless as she lay there, temporarily sated, her hand over her mound.

  She had not lied as others had, for there was blood on his fingers as he removed them.

  Now they would retreat to the bedroom, yet still his hand roamed her thighs. Unwittingly, Gabi parted them for him, her mouth awaiting his kiss.

  He fought with temptation and lost.

  A little way, he decided, because he ached for her.

  ‘It’s going to hurt,’ Gabi said, torn between fear and desire.

  ‘A little,’ he accepted, but despite his size her wetness eased him in.

  It was nothing like her imaginings.

  In her dreams it was a seamless, tender dance as he gently took her while telling her he loved her. In reality it was the tearing of flesh and the rising of pain as he inched into her.

  Gabi found that she preferred the latter.

  ‘Gabi...’

  He had sworn just a little way in, but the grip was too inviting, the scent of sex urged him on and he thrust in deeply.

  She sobbed, loudly, and he cursed his lack of care. Alim stilled. It took a moment for her to acclimatise, to regroup, and then she begged him to do it again.

  Alim obliged.

  Over and over.

  They rolled and they kissed, they dragged from each other pleasure beyond imagining, and she, the virgin, pushed him to extremes, for he fought hard not to come.

  His life, his identity, even his seed was always protected.

  Yet his abdomen was tight and he was lifting.

  He did not withdraw and she did not resist. Instead, she coiled her legs tighter around his loins, and this time, when Gabi came, it was around his thick length.

  He felt the throb of her demand.

  ‘Alim...’ Her voice told him now, in fact it pleaded, and Alim bade farewell to restraint and rained deep into her.

  The rush of his release and the moan he made procured a tiny cry from Gabi that abruptly died, for she was back to his mouth, being consumed by his kiss and a slave to their bliss.

  They lay there a while, until both the room and their bodies were cool. But the fires of passion had not dimmed.

  ‘Bed,’ Alim said, and he stood and helped her up.

  For still it beckoned.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ALIM HAD ALWAYS been careful.

  Always!

  Until now.

  There was nothing about this night that compared with others, for they made love again and then, instead of sleeping, lay in his bed, talking, thirstily drinking iced sparkling water.

  It was refreshing.

  Even mistakes were forgiven.

  ‘Tomorrow I shall arrange for a doctor to see you,’ he told Gabi as they discussed the morning-after pill.

  ‘I’ll sort it,’ Gabi said, for she was not seeing a doctor here!

  ‘I apologise,’ he told her.

  ‘Please don’t.’

  She would not change it, or, if she could, Gabi would only have been better prepared and been on the Pill, but nothing could have forewarned her that on this night her dreams would come true.

  She had craved Alim from a distance for years. Now he was here and it was better even than she had dreamt.

  Gabi might be inexperienced but she knew enough about Alim to be surprised by their ease in conversation afterwards.

  She had known that he would be a brilliant lover; the surprise was that afterwards she felt like she was lying with a friend, for they chatted.

  And she had never imagined that might happen with Alim.

  Yet they spoke about their lack of thought earlier and made plans to remedy it later that day.

  ‘I will sort it,’ she told him. ‘Believe me, I have no intention of ending up like—’ She halted.

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘My mother,’ Gabi said. ‘I don’t mean that I don’t want to be like her, I mean I don’t want to resent...’

  Whatever way she said it made it sound wrong.

  ‘Tell me,’ Alim said, just as he had when they had spoken outside the ballroom, only this time she was wrapped in his arms.

  ‘I was an accident,’ Gabi explained. ‘One she still pays for to this day.’

  ‘Surely not,’ Alim said. ‘What about your father?’

  ‘I don’t know who he is.’ Gabi admitted. ‘It doesn’t matter, I don’t need to know...’

  But she did.

  Often, the need to know was so acute that she could not bear it, yet she played it down as she always had.

  ‘My mother had been accepted to study at university but had to give it up to raise me.’

  ‘It is not your fault that she did not follow her dreams.’

  ‘It feels like it,’ Gabi admitted. ‘If she hadn’t had me...’

  ‘Then she would have found another excuse.’

  ‘That’s harsh,’ Gabi said.

  ‘Perhaps,’ Alim conceded, and he smiled as she looked at him.

  ‘Are you always so direct?’

  ‘Always.’

  Now it was Gabi who smiled.

  ‘So planning weddings is your dream?’ he asked.

  Gabi nodded. She told him about when she had been a little girl and the flour and sugar that had driven her mother wild. ‘I would pick flowers at the park for the bouquet and spend the whole day making sure that everything was perfect.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I was so worried about this wedding. It was so incredibly rushed but when I saw James and Mona dance last night I knew that they’d be okay.’

  ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘You can tell,’ Gabi said. ‘She was a very difficult bride, but together they seem so happy.’

  He liked hearing that, for Alim wanted happiness for his brother.

  It was not something he sought for himself.

  Alim did not believe in happy marriages. He had been raised with the model that marriage was a business arrangement and a duty, and that happiness was sought elsewhere.

  Things were different, of course, for James for he did not have the burden of being his father’s heir.

  Yes, he admitted in that moment, at times it felt like a burden.

  Night was fading but there was no real thought of sleeping as they lay together chatting, Gabi idly running her fingers in circles on his chest.

  And for Alim it was very relaxing, too, as well as a bit of a turn-on. He liked her curiosity about his body and her conversation made him smile as she moaned about Bernadetta, and the hell of getting this wedding sorted. But then Gabi crossed the line.

  ‘The groom’s mother is paying.’

  ‘Gabi!’ he scolded.

  ‘What?’

  Alim was considering her for a very senior role, yet she dropped confidential information like a shower of r
ain.

  ‘You should not discuss such things.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Gabi said. ‘I’m not down at the bar talking about it, I’m in bed with the boss. And it’s you she’s paying, so you must already know.’ And then she smiled and it was like a rainbow and Alim found himself smiling back.

  ‘Okay,’ he conceded, and he pulled her in so that she lay with her head on his chest.

  ‘It is odd, though,’ Gabi said, though she was more thinking out loud, and it was so easy to do so with his hand stroking her hair. ‘Usually it’s the bride’s parents who pay, or half and half...’

  Alim shrugged. ‘Perhaps Mona’s parents are not wealthy.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Gabi yawned. ‘Though Fleur clearly is. She intrigues me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Fleur,’ Gabi said. ‘The mother of the groom.’

  Alim said nothing.

  ‘I can’t work out if she’s divorced or widowed or just single like my mother.’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Alim asked.

  ‘Probably not.’

  Of course it did, Alim thought. Or it soon would.

  He knew how the staff gossiped and very soon Gabi would know his title and it would be clear that the royal guests in residence tonight were related to him.

  Or perhaps it would be the wedding photos that would be his undoing when Gabi saw them, for they had made love now and had stared deep into each other’s eyes.

  Alim knew he was a darker version of James.

  Gabi might well see it too.

  She was perceptive enough that soon she might work things out.

  Alim did not enlighten her now, though.

  There would be time for all that tomorrow.

  It was more than one night he wanted, yet he was aware that he needed to think things through carefully.

  And anyway, for now, Gabi was sleeping.

  The more he tried to talk himself out of the plans he was making, the more sense they made. With his father unwell, the months ahead would be trying—that much Alim knew.

  He could not put off marriage for ever, but he could certainly delay things.

  And what nicer delay than this?

  Alim did not expect Gabi to be at his beck and call as he carried on in the usual way; he would be faithful.

  A year, perhaps.

  It would work for both of them.

  Alim’s assessment was based on practicalities. Away from Bernadetta, her career would only flourish, he would see to that. And, during this difficult year, he could come back to Rome and to Gabi. There would be no scandal for the palace to deal with, particularly when he began taking a more prominent role while his father sought treatment.