her at all, one way or the other. It was just a kiss.
But it felt like a lot more.
His lips were warm and firm, taking and offering at the same time. He braced himself on the arms of the chair so they weren’t touching anywhere but their mouths. Still, that was enough to make her whole body sit up and take notice.
He moved his mouth back and forth before brushing her lower lip with his tongue.
Instinctively she parted for him. Anticipation made her tense. When he slid inside, she wanted to squirm closer, to take whatever he offered. Instead she lifted her hand to his shoulder and felt the strength of him.
His tongue touched hers. Sparks flew in every direction. He circled her as they began a dance so exciting, so erotic, she found it difficult to breathe.
She’d been kissed before hundreds of times. She’d made love. She’d experienced desire for a man. But nothing had prepared her for the hunger that consumed her whenever Qadir kissed her.
Wanting began low in her belly and spiraled out, filling every cell with a need that almost frightened her. She felt control slipping and worried she would beg him to take her right there, in the chair, in front of anyone who happened to be watching. She felt breathless and out of control. It was frightening…and yet she never wanted him to stop.
At last he pulled away. Something hot and bright burned in his dark eyes. She had a feeling he could see the same in her. Passion, she thought. Heady and unfamiliar, but more compelling than she’d ever thought possible.
“You are a surprise,” he murmured.
“I could say the same about you. Of course it could be a prince thing. You might take special classes and be taught techniques not known to mortal man.”
“I am mortal and there is no special training.”
Which meant it was just him. A slightly scary thought.
“I must go. The car will return and the driver will wait to take you back to the palace.”
“Okay.”
“I look forward to seeing your transformation this evening.”
“We’re doing something tonight?” Not that she minded.
“A play.”
“Right. You mentioned that. I should probably get a calendar.”
“I’ll have my assistant print out a schedule.”
That made her smile. “I’ve never dated by schedule before. Maybe he should include suggestions on what I should wear. Formal, informal, strictly casual.”
“If you like.”
She started to say she’d been kidding, but then realized having that information would help. “Theater is dressy, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She thought about the clothes they’d bought earlier that afternoon. “I have a couple of things I can wear. What’s the play?”
“A musical. Les Miserables. The king’s favorite.”
“Has he seen it?”
“Many times. He’ll see it again tonight.”
“Oh. He’s going, too?”
“We’ll be in his box. It will be a good opportunity for him to get to know you better. As the woman I’m dating.”
With that he straightened and walked away.
The stylist returned. “He’s so hot. You’re really lucky. Are you all right?”
Maggie shook her head. The king was going to be there tonight? In the same box? Was she expected to talk to him?
Stupid question, she told herself. She would have to carry on a conversation and pretend to be Qadir’s girlfriend and what if the king asked about her being good breeding stock? How was she supposed to answer?
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered.
“I get that a lot,” the stylist said as he wheeled a cart close and reached for scissors. “Deep breaths. You’ll be fine.”
“I can’t do this,” Maggie said as the limo pulled up in front of the entrance to a very large, very old building. “I can’t breathe, I can’t think. This was all a mistake. If I’d already accepted money, I would return it. Seriously, pick someone else. Fainting will not make the king like me.”
“You’re exaggerating your condition,” Qadir said, not sounding the
But it felt like a lot more.
His lips were warm and firm, taking and offering at the same time. He braced himself on the arms of the chair so they weren’t touching anywhere but their mouths. Still, that was enough to make her whole body sit up and take notice.
He moved his mouth back and forth before brushing her lower lip with his tongue.
Instinctively she parted for him. Anticipation made her tense. When he slid inside, she wanted to squirm closer, to take whatever he offered. Instead she lifted her hand to his shoulder and felt the strength of him.
His tongue touched hers. Sparks flew in every direction. He circled her as they began a dance so exciting, so erotic, she found it difficult to breathe.
She’d been kissed before hundreds of times. She’d made love. She’d experienced desire for a man. But nothing had prepared her for the hunger that consumed her whenever Qadir kissed her.
Wanting began low in her belly and spiraled out, filling every cell with a need that almost frightened her. She felt control slipping and worried she would beg him to take her right there, in the chair, in front of anyone who happened to be watching. She felt breathless and out of control. It was frightening…and yet she never wanted him to stop.
At last he pulled away. Something hot and bright burned in his dark eyes. She had a feeling he could see the same in her. Passion, she thought. Heady and unfamiliar, but more compelling than she’d ever thought possible.
“You are a surprise,” he murmured.
“I could say the same about you. Of course it could be a prince thing. You might take special classes and be taught techniques not known to mortal man.”
“I am mortal and there is no special training.”
Which meant it was just him. A slightly scary thought.
“I must go. The car will return and the driver will wait to take you back to the palace.”
“Okay.”
“I look forward to seeing your transformation this evening.”
“We’re doing something tonight?” Not that she minded.
“A play.”
“Right. You mentioned that. I should probably get a calendar.”
“I’ll have my assistant print out a schedule.”
That made her smile. “I’ve never dated by schedule before. Maybe he should include suggestions on what I should wear. Formal, informal, strictly casual.”
“If you like.”
She started to say she’d been kidding, but then realized having that information would help. “Theater is dressy, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She thought about the clothes they’d bought earlier that afternoon. “I have a couple of things I can wear. What’s the play?”
“A musical. Les Miserables. The king’s favorite.”
“Has he seen it?”
“Many times. He’ll see it again tonight.”
“Oh. He’s going, too?”
“We’ll be in his box. It will be a good opportunity for him to get to know you better. As the woman I’m dating.”
With that he straightened and walked away.
The stylist returned. “He’s so hot. You’re really lucky. Are you all right?”
Maggie shook her head. The king was going to be there tonight? In the same box? Was she expected to talk to him?
Stupid question, she told herself. She would have to carry on a conversation and pretend to be Qadir’s girlfriend and what if the king asked about her being good breeding stock? How was she supposed to answer?
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered.
“I get that a lot,” the stylist said as he wheeled a cart close and reached for scissors. “Deep breaths. You’ll be fine.”
“I can’t do this,” Maggie said as the limo pulled up in front of the entrance to a very large, very old building. “I can’t breathe, I can’t think. This was all a mistake. If I’d already accepted money, I would return it. Seriously, pick someone else. Fainting will not make the king like me.”
“You’re exaggerating your condition,” Qadir said, not sounding the
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