But Gray doesn’t stop to let me catch my breath. He doesn’t stop for anything as he rolls his hips, driving blindly toward release.
With my legs quivering from the final savage thrusts, he follows me into his own anguished surrender. The control has evaporated and his grief escapes in a deafening primal roar, spilling into the cabin, and echoing in my soul long after he’s emptied himself inside me.
33
Gray
We climb aboard The Great Escape, Prince Ahmad’s luxury yacht. The Great Escape—pfft. It’s more pretentious than Lone Wolf, even.
Something changed between Delilah and me yesterday. Not a seismic shift, but an intimacy that develops not from carnal pursuits, but from sharing secrets that others don’t know.
I can’t explain why I confided in her about my mother—not exactly. I’ve been telling myself it was her reward for opening up to me. Something big and important to entice her into continuing to share more about her past. I’ve also told myself that it was to demonstrate my unwavering confidence in her. All these things are in part true, but they are eclipsed by a greater truth: I wanted to tell her. Five simple words, filled with complexities.
It’s not that I can’t explain why I confided in Delilah. It’s that the emotions are too thorny to parse through right now. My focus needs to be on the mission and on the safety of my team.
The crown prince is waiting to greet us, dressed casually in linen shorts and a button-down shirt rolled at the elbows. It’s similar to what I’m wearing. Unlike the palace, the atmosphere on the boat is always relaxed.
“Your Highness,” I say, polishing the exaggerated reverence with a mocking smirk that Ahmad has come to expect from me. “You look well-rested for someone with a new baby in the house.”
His eyes light up and his grin widens before he erupts in laughter. My relationship with the crown prince is complicated. It started, in earnest, as an easy friendship. We both come from powerful families with vast wealth, where cultivating genuine friends isn’t simple. Despite his selfish ways, which I originally attributed to cultural differences and royal lineage, I once enjoyed his company.
The prince doesn’t take my hand, but embraces me, instead. “It’s good to see that you’re still a sarcastic bastard. I need a bit of levity in my life.” He pats me on the back. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
When he pulls away, he turns to Delilah, who is dressed conservatively with a scarf covering her hair. But even with a modest neckline and her arms and legs hidden by billowy cream-colored fabric, she exudes an effortless sexiness. It’s impossible to hide, certainly from men like Ahmad, who are always on the prowl.
“What tender morsel have you brought with you?” The question is directed at me, but his eyes are all over Delilah.
The way he’s leering, I’d like to grab him by the neck and toss him overboard. But I can’t afford to be a jealous bastard right now, so I force a smile. “Crown Prince Ahmad bin Khalid, please meet Delilah Mae Porter.”
Delilah smiles, but doesn’t make eye contact with Ahmad. Instead, she places her hand over her heart with her head bowed slightly. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness.”
Pride washes over me—not because of anything I’ve done, but because she threw herself into the study, soaking up every detail she could get her hands on, or pry from Mira and me—all for this very moment. She’s perfect. I catch a whiff of the brackish water and feel myself relax.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Porter. I appreciate the show of respect, but on the boat, we dispense with all modesty and most formality. May I call you Delilah?”
“Of course.” She’s poised, but a bit nervous, which is good. It makes it more realistic.
“It’s not necessary for you to lower your eyes in my presence,” Ahmad continues, “as it makes it difficult for me to see their beauty. Yes?”
She looks up with a demure smile.
“Much better,” he says, with the cunning assurance of an animal with no natural predator. “At the palace it will be different, but while we’re on the sea, you needn’t cover yourself. After all, this is The Great Escape.”
Even after a century of secular rule, Amidane women are still required to wear the abaya and behave modestly, rules that Ahmad dispenses with any time it suits him. The laws are stricter for women, but men have onerous restrictions too. No one is permitted to practice religion of any kind inside the country. The king is the supreme ruler—not a demigod, but a god. In his absence, the crown prince has the last word on everything.
A man dressed in a pressed white uniform appears, and nods at the prince.
“Malik, please show Miss Porter to her suite.”
Malik is the crown prince’s eyes and ears on and off the boat.
“Once you’re settled, perhaps you’d like to catch some sun on the top deck,” Ahmad suggests before Delilah goes. “You’ll find the sunbathers there without swimsuits. You might choose to do the same. I understand it prevents tan lines.”
Delilah defers to me for guidance on her outfit, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s almost comical. “Wear a bathing suit.” I speak to her, but my message is for the prince. “I’m not adverse to tan lines.”
Ahmad watches the interaction carefully. Delilah is looking directly at my face, unlike how she behaved with him.
“If there’s anything you need, please tell Malik,” he says, dismissing her.
Delilah is not his to dismiss, but I hold my tongue. For now.
When she’s out of view, I follow Ahmad up the stairs to a private seating area on the middle deck.
He motions for me to sit. “What would you like to drink?”
“Whatever you’re having.” I roll up my sleeves while he turns to say something I can’t hear to a crew member, before taking a seat across from me.
“So you brought along a little plaything.” He’s not wasting any time, but this tells me everything I need to know about why the plans to go directly to the palace changed. He has concerns about Delilah.
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?”
“Is there something wrong with the women I normally provide? All you had to do was ask for something special.”
When I don’t bite, he keeps talking. “Unless she’s a plaything for me? A gift for your host, perhaps?”
Fuck you. The crewman brings us each a beer, pouring the contents of the bottles into tall glasses while we watch silently.
“I sent a gift. Did it arrive?”
“It did. Thank you. The port’s magnificent. I finished one of the bottles, but I saved the other for us to enjoy while you’re here. Tell me, is it as delicious as your blonde toy?” He raises his glass, touching mine in midair, but not offering a good cheer. “You still eat pussy, I’m sure.”
“And you still don’t, I’m sure.”
Ahmad leans in closer, while I sip my beer. “What were you thinking, bringing a CIA agent to the palace?” He’s visibly agitated.
I would be too.
“Former CIA agent,” I explain carefully. Although, by now, his goons have told him everything there is to know about Delilah. “She spent virtually no time doing covert work before she was ousted. You were provided with all the appropriate documentation and paperwork. Don’t act like I’m trying to pull a fast one on you.”