In Too Deep (11 page)

It was worse than she'd feared. She'd been the only one under the misconception that this was a real marriage. Everyone else knew what it was—another of Adham's breeding ventures.

She'd been offered and accepted as a desirable mare.

But worse, Adham had believed all along that she was in on the deal.

Rage rose inside her again. She wiped fiercely at the tears.

It didn't matter what he'd believed. Only one thing mattered. He had to know she wanted no part of his plan, had agreed to none of it. She'd take nothing from him. She'd do anything, give up everything, to prove it.

And if fate should have it that she gave him his coveted heir, it would be on her terms, not his. She'd make sure her child didn't grow up a pawn in a royal chess game like her—or a heartless, cold-blooded manipulator like him.

A
dham swung the mallet with such force he catapulted the ball off the field, sending mud and grass exploding in the air.

How dare she.

Acting the neglected wife. Taking him to task about not fulfilling his marital duties. As if she'd ever wanted more from him than his wealth and status.

But he knew otherwise.

It had all been a tightly woven plot between her and her father. It was why he couldn't bring himself to touch her again, even though the lust he'd felt from the moment he'd laid eyes on her was intensifying, was corroding his restraint. And damn her, every time he saw her, the wholesomeness of her beauty, which needed no enhancements, overrode his senses. He didn't even have to see her. He only had to close his eyes to see her stunning honey-tan skin, to feel it beneath his hands, his lips, to imagine the waterfall of
glossy mahogany hair sifting between his itching fingers, to remember her mesmerizing chocolate eyes gleaming with passion and her flushed lips trembling with pleasure. He woke up in a cold sweat every night, aching, remembering how her voluptuous body had exuded sensuality out of every pore, a sensuality he'd once thought unconscious. How she had wrapped around him, writhed beneath him. It was almost impossible not to storm her bedroom every night and lose himself inside her again.

Just before he'd met her, he'd been about to tell his father that he'd never take a wife by command like that. Then she'd walked into her father's hospital room and into his life, and suddenly the idea of marriage was no longer abhorrent to him, becoming all he could think of. The more he'd seen of her, the more he'd become convinced the fates had conspired to bring him his bride, the one woman he could contemplate having children with.

Then he'd taken her. And if he'd had any uncertainties or hesitations about her, her honest and limitless passion, the unprecedented intimacy he'd experienced with her, the unimaginable pleasure, what she'd so explicitly shown and told him had been reciprocated in full, had solidified his resolve, sealed his fate.

The next day, while Sabrina slept in his bed, he'd gone to Thomas Grant, to ask him for her hand in marriage. But the man had spoken first. And Adham had realized.

Grant had targeted him as the best groom for his daughter and the surest way out of his debts. And he'd set Sabrina on him. All her artlessness, her eagerness for his company, her hunger for him had been an undetectable act. And it had worked. Spectacularly.

But Grant had grown desperate in his illness. He'd thought he could no longer afford to let things develop at their own pace, to maintain the illusion of spontaneity. So
he'd exposed their plan, laying it out in distasteful terms of give and take.

The wretched man must have been in worse shape than anyone had realized, or else he'd seriously underestimated his daughter's seductive powers. He'd asked for far less than what Adham had been resolved to offer when he'd thought he was pursuing a marriage built on mutual desire.

Adham had been so enraged, his first reaction was to snatch everything from father and daughter, leaving them with neither land nor deal. But pity for Grant's desperation had won. Not to mention lust for Sabrina. Even though he'd hated himself for it, he could think of nothing but repeating that night of delirium—and that even more addicting morning after.

Then Grant had died, and Sabrina had been broken up over his death. And although he'd discovered her deception and manipulation, he had recognized her anguish as real. He couldn't have assuaged his lust for her, no matter how it had gnawed at him. Not even when she'd let him know he could. Especially when she had. He'd been disgusted—with her, with himself—and conflicted about her bereavement, enraged at his decisions, his desires. He'd thought it safest to stay away from her until he regained his sanity and decided how to deal with it all.

But the more he let time pass, the more he realized it had been a grave mistake to marry her. He desired her for real, while she desired him only as a sponsor to maintain her family name and boost her lifestyle. He'd never paid for his pleasures and he'd be damned if he'd start with her. Not even if she was the one woman he craved. Especially since she was.

But he couldn't even let her go, washing his hands of this sordid mess. He'd trapped himself forever.

Men in his family married for life, if at all possible.
Even if separation occurred, it remained private, with a solid family front presented, for the sake of all but the couple. Considerations far bigger ruled. The royal family's traditions, Khumayrah's veneration of marriage, the Aal Ferjanis' allies and rivals. A man who wasn't bound to the wife he'd chosen and the family he'd made with her couldn't be trusted.

Which brought him to that heir his father had revealed was necessary to help stabilize the currently volatile internal affairs in their kingdom.

For that alone, he couldn't let anyone suspect that his marriage was a mere business deal. It would be the perfect way for his enemies to slander him.

They had done it to his father, spreading rumors that Adham and his younger sister weren't his, that his bargained wife had cheated. The repercussions had been far-reaching, and it had taken half of Adham's life to disprove the lies and wipe clean their stain.

This alone should have stopped him from following in his father's footsteps. His parents' marriage had developed into a love match, but this wasn't his own situation, and he should have factored in that if the conditions of his marriage were exposed, it would affect the royal house and the kingdom's stability.

So here he was. Trapped into playing the doting, replete groom. And to his fury, his desire for her, having his eyes and hands all over her in public, hadn't been an act. The act had been the distance he'd forced on them in private, the disinterest and detachment he'd pretended when she'd confronted him.

B'Ellahi,
that confrontation. He'd used up his last drop of will holding himself back from pouncing on her, dragging her to the ground and giving her what she'd been
indignantly pretending to demand. His mind roiled still with conjectures over why she had.

He again slammed into the same conclusion. That she'd become worried. She hadn't seen the contracts, and had probably been trying to find out if their terms were worth the act she'd been putting on. After all, she'd made a tremendous effort so far, and hadn't missed a beat since they'd met.

But now that he'd assured her of the extent of her gains from their arrangement, she'd resume playing her part with even more commitment. This past week, her performance had surpassed his wildest expectations. He'd felt her dissolving in his arms, inundating him with hunger, with urgent need for everything he'd do to her….

How is she faking all this?

A thought struck him with the force of a mallet to the head.

What if she wasn't? What if, apart from her mercenary motives for their marriage, she lusted after him for real?

If this was true, it changed everything….

“Adham. Earth to Adham.”

He raised burning eyes to the booming voice. He found he'd come to a full stop in the middle of the field with Nicolas staring at him in surprise and concern. He and the other players were wiping off the clumps of mud and grass they were covered in.

“The game is right here, buddy.” Jacob Anders, who played his team's number one position, smirked. “But it's clear you're not.”

“Sí,”
Nicolas agreed. “Why don't we resume our practice when you don't feel the urge to take whatever's eating you on the lawn and pelt us with it?”

Adham grimaced at his teammates. He wasn't up to their teasing. He swung Layl away and galloped off the field.

They were right. He had to take this out on the cause of his turmoil. On Sabrina.

If she wanted him, she was going to get him.

If mind-blowing pleasure was all they could have out of this “deal,” then they'd have it. They'd never stop having it.

He snapped his cell phone out, pressing her speed-dial number.

Her phone rang until the line disconnected. He dialed again immediately. Four more disconnections later, and he was ready to commit violence.

She answered the fifth time. Or rather, the line opened. She said nothing.

But he could feel her on the other end. He could swear he felt her breath flaying his face in its heat and sweetness.

He growled with a spike of anger and arousal, “Why didn't you answer right away?”

Silence on her end. Then her unsteady inhalation skewered his brain, forked more steel into his erection. How he remembered those fractured breaths that had driven him mad as he'd plunged inside her….

“I answered now.” Her voice was clipped, distant, yet it was still the mellow caress he'd replayed in his memory nonstop, crooning her need for him, crying out as her urgency rose, sharpening with the pain of his first invasion, then losing all inhibition as he occupied her, as her pleasure peaked. “Anything you want?”

I want everything,
he wanted to roar.

But he
was
going to get everything. Starting tonight. No more holding back. For any reason. For better and probably for worse than he could imagine, she was his wife. And he planned to gorge himself on all the advantages of that fact. He'd suffer the disadvantages gladly when he had her total abandon to negate it all.

Her father's bargain might have blinded him for a while, but he could see clearly now. There was no way she'd faked her responses. Her soul might be that of a mercenary, but her body was that of a hedonist. But what mattered was that he was convinced now that she suffered his same predicament. She craved the pleasure only he could bring her.

“Sebastian is holding a gala party tonight in the VIP tent,” he said, his voice thick with pent-up hunger. “It's to celebrate our marriage. It's imperative we show our hosts that we appreciate their thoughtfulness and efforts.”

After another protracted silence, she asked expressionlessly, “How do you suggest we do that?”

“Sebastian requested that we attend the party in full royal garb. Have Hasnaa advise you on how to dress. I'll send you outfits and sets of jewelry to choose from. I want you to be my princess tonight.”

Another silence stretched in the wake of his directives. Then a tremulous inhalation spilled from lips he knew to be petal soft and cherry flushed and dewy. He hardened beyond agony. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” he hissed with the abrasion of arousal, the knowledge that it would be unendurable hours before he could assuage it. “Don't straighten or restrain your hair. Leave its curls wild.”

She muttered what he assumed was an agreement, then hung up.

He stared at the phone as if he expected her to call back, to say more. He knew she wouldn't.

The dynamics between them had changed. Just hours ago there'd been no acknowledgement of how it was between them. Now it was out in the open, and she'd dropped the adoring-bride act in private.

But her indignation this morning had been about
more than her worry for her future—it had contained true frustration. No matter why they'd ended up married, she'd expected him,
wanted
him, to wallow in the carnal connection they shared.

That must be the reason behind her standoffishness just now. She must think he still intended to deprive her of what she needed.

She'd be relieved that he'd decided to disregard how she and her father had set him up and would drag her into the tumults of passion. At every opportunity.

And if they'd attained that much pleasure when he'd been so careful with her, when she'd been so untried, now that he could unleash his passion…well, he couldn't even imagine how it would be between them. In fact, exacting retribution on her through sensual torment would only take it all to explosive levels.

Starting tonight.

 

“I think you've chosen the outfit that best showcases your beauty,
ya Ameerah
Sabrina.”

Sabrina caught the genial Khumayran woman's eyes in the mirror. Hasnaa was truly a beauty, as her name proclaimed her to be. She was Jameel's wife and now her head lady-in-waiting.

She attempted a smile, to thank her for her reassurance. She could see for herself it came out a grimace.

Thankfully, Hasnaa didn't notice her forced attempt as she fussed around her, adjusting her outfit. It was the first time that Sabrina had availed herself of Hasnaa's services. And only because Adham had demanded it.

He wanted her to be his princess tonight. To look the part, that was. She felt obligated to meet his demand. To honor the pact that her father had made. She wouldn't give Adham a chance to say a Grant didn't uphold her end of
a deal. Even if she herself felt there was nothing more to uphold, felt mired in a nightmare she'd never wake up from. A prison her father and Adham had conspired to throw her into.

She'd felt desperation before, with each loss in her life. But each time, she'd forged on, because there had always been something to strive for, someone else who mattered. Someone who'd been there for her, too.

When her mother died when she was twelve, she turned her grief into more love for her father, even though it wasn't easy being his daughter, especially after his bereavement made him even more ultra-protective of her. Then years passed and she realized the hardest part of being his daughter had nothing to do with his actions and everything to do with who he was.

She realized the magnitude of the problem when she entered college. She lost count of the men who pursued her for her father's assets. To make things worse, her father, in his attempts to protect her from opportunists, started supplying one suitable bachelor after another. She considered those men not much better than the vultures, since they also wanted to acquire her because of her father's assets, if in a merger rather than a takeover.