“Ditto.”
“She wants me to get married sometime this year, and even though she promised me she’d wait until you leave to start her ridiculous matchmaking attempts…something in my gut tells me she might use the coronation as a good opportunity.”
Disappointment sagged her shoulders for a nanosecond. Quickly, she squared them again, slapping on a half smile she hoped would save face. “So your future wife might be in attendance.”
“Wives.”
Wives. Her heart shrank to the size of a sad, lonely pearl. Acid spread into her bloodstream, reminding her exactly of who Nassor was—a privileged man who had the opportunity to change the lives of many, to break from a secular cultural tradition, and yet, he didn’t. He wouldn’t. “Wives. Yes, that makes sense. Why settle for just one,” she said. “How many are we talking about? Seven? Eight?”
He rubbed his forehead. “Four or five.”
“Great. Well, again, I can say I have a headache or a bad cold tomorrow and simply not go. I’d hate to make things awkward for you and the nice ladies lining up for a long-lasting marriage.”
The minute each word fled from her lips, she regretted them. Yet, she glanced at him with what she could swear was her best resting bitch face. Her pulse throbbed—even if confronting him about his impending marriage to several women was none of her business.
“If you’re a history teacher, you should know polygamy is common in many cultures and it’s a tradition. Why are you so judgmental?” He stared into her eyes, challenging her.
She folded her arms over her chest. Even though the bubbles and jets prevented him from seeing her naked, she hated how vulnerable her situation made her. “I know a lot about ancient history. Doesn’t mean I agree with every war or tradition I read. I have a mind of my own.”
He sighed. “By marrying four or five women, I’ll give them the title of queens. They will have a life of protection and luxury forever.”
Protection? A thread of anger coursed through her. What kind of protection had her stepmother received? None. Because she’d been a common woman and worse, a foreigner. Just like me, if they discover my identity and goal. “Which means nothing, because if you die, they can’t rule. It has to be your future son. So they’re powerless objects of decoration. Trophy wives.”
He opened his mouth, then hesitated for a second and ran his fingers down his face. “You’re very knowledgeable of my customs for someone who just got here.”
A pang of panic moved through her. Am I paranoid because I’m guilty, or is he up to something? “I fit a visit to the castle lobby between my beauty appointments and read some brochures.”
He lifted his eyebrow. “I doubt they said those things.”
“I’m good at reading between the lines.”
“You’re good at a lot of things,” he said in a sexy tone that sent her hormones into overdrive. When she’d sucked him, she’d enjoyed the power of making him come. He’d exploded in her mouth, and she’d never forget the look of satisfaction in his eyes when she’d swallow his salty cum.
Shivers raced down her spine, and instinctively, she licked her lips. Ever since the previous night, he hadn’t screwed her. She’d appreciated the break to recover physically from their encounter, but her body throbbed, her clit swollen and achy. “What are the specifics of having four wives, anyway? If they were here, for instance, would one of them suck you while the others bathed you?”
A delicious smile formed on his lips. “Why do you care, my dirty girl? Are you jealous?”
She snorted, waving him off. “Me? Jealous? Please.”
He moved closer, flecks of silver flashing in his eyes. “Why such interest?”
“Well, because I’m baffled at how you can handle four partners at the same time. That’s it, a purely pragmatic curiosity,” she said, telling herself more than him.
He touched her elbow, propping her to turn around so her back touched his front. “Right now, my love, the only one I’m interested in handling is you,” he whispered near her ear, and she melted into his embrace from behind.
He moved them closer to the edge of the whirlpool. She closed her eyes, mentally telling herself to push him away and teach him a lesson. When she opened them, she faced their reflection in the large mirror in front of them.
His black skin glistened against hers, sparkling like a dark diamond. He deposited a kiss on her shoulder, loosening her muscles. When he lifted his gaze and saw hers in the mirror, she clenched her stomach. The look of pure desire in his eyes lit a fire in her.
“You’re so beautiful, Izzy.”
I was thinking the same thing about you. He cupped her breasts, possessively, as if he had complete ownership over her body. She swallowed, unable to look away from the mirror. Who was the woman who glanced back at her? Was she a traitor of the kingdom, or was she betraying herself by enjoying this…affair so much? Craving more. Craving him.
He parted her legs with his, and his impressive hard-on poked into her skin. She bucked, surprised at her own quick reaction to him. A pearly cream dripped from her folds, her inner walls swelling. Without her permission, her entire system readied for his claim on her. He nipped the outer shell of her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine and raising the little hairs at the back of her neck. Damn.
He continued to fondle her breast with one hand, while sliding the other much farther south. When he brushed his palm over her sex, she bit the inside of her cheek, bracing herself for the tsunami of emotions about to flood her. Did this happen every time people screwed? She parted her lips and almost asked him, but hesitated. He probably would say something nice and flattering, and likely far from the truth. Because, soon she’d leave his life, and he’d choose other women to be with him. He wouldn’t pick her.
“What’s in your head, Izzy?” he whispered, his tone demanding.
