Royals: Claimed By The Prince. Penny Jordan
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after the farewells for them to walk back to his private apartments. His bride didn’t say a word the whole time.
It was hard not to contrast the brittle ice queen beside him with the woman whose soft warm lips he had tasted. That small taste, the heat that had flared between them, shocking with its intensity and urgency, had left him curious, and eager to repeat the experience.
He was lusting after his bride. Well, life was full of surprises and not all of them were bad. The situation suited a man who had a very pragmatic approach to sex.
The room they stood in was on the same grand scale as all the others. This one apparently connected two bedrooms, if she had understood him correctly. Her exhausted brain was filled with a low-level hum of confusion, and two images from the wedding kept flitting through her head—her father’s tired, ill face and the predatory heat in Kamel’s eyes when he claimed his kiss.
‘Has it occurred to you that this marriage might not be something to be endured...but enjoyed?’
Hannah’s fingers slipped off the door handle. She turned around, her back against the wooden panels. He was standing too close...much too close. She struggled to draw in air as her body stirred, responding to the slumberous, sensual provocation shining in his dark eyes.
‘The only thing I want to enjoy tonight is some privacy.’
‘That is not what you would enjoy.’
She threw up her hands in a gesture of exasperated defeat. ‘Fine! So I find you attractive. Is that what you want to hear?’ She angled a scornful glance up at his lean dark face. ‘I find any number of men attractive, but I don’t sleep with them all.’
Make that none.
‘You’re discerning. I like that in you.’
‘You may be good to look at but your ego is a massive turn-off.’
‘I could work on it. You would teach me.’
Big, predatory, and sinfully sexy—she was willing to bet that that were quite a few things he could teach her! Her stomach tightened in self-disgust. Shocked by the thought that had insinuated itself into her head, she tilted her chin, channelling all the ice princess she could muster, and retorted haughtily, ‘I’m not into casual sex or tutoring.’
‘We’re married, ma belle. That is not casual...and I do not need instruction.’
Hannah’s eyes went to the ring on her finger. It felt heavy. She felt...consumed. She frowned at the word that formed in her head. Consumed by feelings, a need. She gave her head a tiny shake. It was dangerous to imagine something that was not there. She blamed the bottle of champagne that Raini had cracked open in the limo. Had she had one or two glasses? Regardless of her alcohol consumption, the only thing she needed was sleep.
He laid a hand on the door beside her head and leaned into her. ‘Well, if you change your mind you know where I am.’ His eyes not leaving hers, he tipped his head at the door next to her own. ‘And for the record I’m fine with...just sex. I will not feel used or cheap in the morning.’
His throaty, mocking laugh was the last straw.
Her blue eyes narrowed and her chin lifted to a combative angle. She could actually feel something inside her snapping as she reached up and pulled his face down until she could reach his lips. In the instant before she covered his mouth with hers she saw his expression change—saw the mockery vanish and the dark, dangerous glow slide into his heavy-lidded eyes.
In the tiny corner of her mind that was still sane Hannah knew she was doing something incredibly stupid, but it was too late to pull back, and then he was kissing her back with a sensual skill that made her sleep-deprived brain shut down—she just clung on for the ride.
Kamel was a man who was rarely surprised—but Hannah had surprised him twice already. First when she kissed him, and second when lust slammed through his body.
Had he ever wanted a woman this badly?
Then he identified the flavour of her kiss. As he pulled away she clung like a limpet, a very soft, warm, inviting limpet, but he gritted his teeth. He knew that if he let it go on a moment longer he wouldn’t be able to stop. And when he made love to his wife he wanted her not just willing but awake and sober!
He studied her flushed face, the bright, almost febrile glitter in her eyes. He had seen the same look in the eyes of a friend who, after pulling three consecutive all-nighters before an exam, had fallen asleep halfway through the actual exam. Hannah was seriously sleep deprived, and more than a bit tipsy.
As a rule he thought it was nice if the person you were making love to stayed conscious. He gave a self-mocking smile. Being noble was really overrated—no wonder it had fallen out of fashion.
‘You’ve been drinking.’
She blinked at the accusation, then insisted loudly, ‘I’m not drunk!’
The pout she gave him almost broke his resolve. ‘We won’t argue the point,’ he said wearily. ‘I think we should sleep on this. Goodnight, Hannah.’
And he walked away and left her standing there feeling like...like...like a woman who’d just made a pass at her own husband and got knocked back. So not only did she now feel cheap, she felt unattractive. Rejected by two fiancés, and now a husband, but she couldn’t summon the energy to care as, with a sigh, she fell backwards fully clothed onto the bed, closed her eyes and was immediately asleep.
TOO PROUD TO ask for help, Hannah was lost. She finally located Kamel in the fourth room she tried—one that opened off a square, windowless hallway that might have been dark but for the daylight that filtered through the blue glass of the dome high above.
Like the ones before it, this room was massive and imposing, and also came complete with a built-in echo, and her heels were particularly noisy on the inlaid floor. But Kamel didn’t look up. The hawk on its perch followed her with its dark eyes while her master continued to stare at the screen of his mobile phone with a frown of concentration that drew his dark brows into a straight line above his aquiline nose.
Choosing not to acknowledge the strange achy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she walked up to the desk and cleared her throat.
When his dark head didn’t lift she felt her temper fizz and embraced the feeling. If he wanted to be awkward, fine. She could do awkward. She felt damned awkward after last night.
‘Is this your doing?’ Realising that her posture, with her arms folded tightly across her stomach, might be construed as protective, she dropped them to her sides.
Kamel stopped scrolling through his emails, looked up from his phone and smiled. ‘Good morning, dear wife.’
Kamel did not feel it was a particularly good morning and it had been a very bad night. He felt tired, and more frustrated than any man should be after his wedding night. A cold shower, a long run and he had regained a little perspective this morning. But then she walked in the room and just the scent of her perfume... He wanted her here and now. The difference between want and need was important to Kamel. He had not allowed himself to need a woman since Amira.
He needed sex, not Hannah. And the sex would be good—his icy bride turned out to have more fire in her than any woman he had ever met. But afterwards he would feel as he always did—the escape from the tight knot of brutal loneliness in his chest was only ever temporary.
Hannah’s lips tightened at the mockery but she did not react to it; instead she simply arched a feathery brow. ‘Well?’
‘I feel as though I am walking into this conversation midway through. Coffee?’ He lifted the pot on the desk beside him and topped up his half-filled cup and allowed his gaze to drift over her face. ‘Hangover?’
‘No,’ she lied. The delicious aroma drifted her way, making her