Acting Royal #Wattys2017

9

JENNY

The Buraj suit was completely different to the rest of the palace. It contained nothing modern at all, instead walking into it felt like stepping back in time. The floor was covered in the most beautiful and intricately woven Persian carpets she'd seen so far. Red and gold cushions were positioned on the floor around small, low carved wooden tables and the arched walls were covered in spectacular mosaic patterns. It wasn't really a room so much as it was an entire wing. It had a massive lounge, small dining area and was probably the size of her entire apartment block.

A four-post bed carved out of dark wood with golden inlays stood in the middle of the floor draped in thick purple and gold blankets. On the far end of the room she saw a sunken bathtub; well, it looked more like a small swimming pool. Someone had filled it and steam was rising and falling rhythmically in the warm breeze coming from the large open window on the other side of the bath.

"It was built in 1862 by my great, great, great grandfather for his wife on their wedding night," Zayn said running his hand over the large bedpost. "He had this bed specially carved for her."

"It's beautiful."

This was the ultimate honeymoon suit, and she was staying in it with the most gorgeous man alive. This was, by far, the strangest moment of her life.

"So now what?" Jenny turned to face him feeling nervous.

"Now what indeed." His voice was playful, yet loaded with all sorts of dark and dangerous suggestions as he took a slow and deliberate step towards her.

Logically Jenny knew she should fight all the desire she was feeling for him. But it was proving very hard to snap out of the sexual spell that she was fast succumbing to.

"Just because we're sharing the same room, doesn't mean we're sharing a bed." Jenny tried to sound as firm, but was failing. "I'll sleep on the couch."

"I wouldn't dream of letting you sleep on a couch, Jenny."

Jenny. The way he said her name was intoxicating.

"I'll sleep on the couch, if that's what you want?" Zayn asked meaningfully.

"Of course it's what I want!" She said. But the more she backed away, the more he stepped towards her.

"Are you sure?" Zayn's voice was little more than a whisper now.

"Of course I'm sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Then why did you agree to come to this room with me?" he asked.

"It was only an act. I couldn't refuse the key your mother was giving us!"

"Only an act?" Zayn pressed with a devilish grin plastered across his stupidly good-looking face.

"Yes. An act!" she folded her arms. "Besides, I like sleeping on couches." She didn't really. Who the hell did?

"Really?" Zayn had advanced towards her so much that he now had her back pressed into the cold, hard wall. She was trapped.

"But your eyes tell a different story." He leaned in and whispered.

"What story?" she asked nervously.

"That you want me as much as I want you." Zayn leaned in let his lips brush hers.

"God you're presumptuous!" She pushed him away, trying desperately to conceal the rush of sexual awareness that had hit her like a mood-altering drug.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not misinterpreting the situation, Jenny."

"I'm just acting. I'm a good actress. That's my job... acting...um...." He moved towards her again. Clearly her first push hadn't been message enough, so she did it again. But this time he didn't budge and as her hands touched his chest, the yearning overwhelmed her.