She had no alternative but to rest still as Sharif set about freeing her.
She wasn’t prepared for him being so gentle with her, or for her own yearning to receive more of this care. She wanted him—she had always wanted him.
She was still a little tense when he unwound the fine silk chiffon gown—exposing her breasts, her nipples, her belly, her thighs, with just a wisp of fabric covering the rest of her. She concentrated on sensation, glad that Sharif was in no rush. Everything he did was calculated to soothe and please her. He took time preparing her, which she loved. She loved his lack of haste, and his thoroughness, and knew she could happily enjoy this for hours. Sharif’s hands were such delicate instruments of pleasure, and so very knowing where she was concerned.
‘And now the rest of you,’ he said in a tone of voice that was a husky sedative.
Each application of cream brought her to a higher level of arousal and awareness, so that when he slipped a cushion beneath her hips, she understood for the first time what they were for, and applauded their invention. And when he dipped his hands in the bowl of cream a second time, warming it first between his palms…
And when he touched her…
‘Good?’ he murmured.
‘Do you really need me to answer that?’
And at last he touched her where she was aching for him to touch, but his attention was almost clinical in its brevity.
‘Not yet,’ he soothed when she groaned in complaint.
He sat back, and she heard him washing his hands in the bowl of scented water and then drying his hands on a cloth. ‘You need time to appreciate sensation, and I’m going to give you time, Britt.’
She sucked in a shocked breath. Words failed her. Being on the ball in the office was very different from being…on the sheikh’s silken cushions.
‘Why confine yourself to once or twice a night?’ Sharif said, his eyes alive with laughter.
She didn’t know whether to be outraged or in for the journey. When would she ever get another chance like this, for goodness’ sake? And with Sharif’s dark gaze drawing her ever deeper into his erotic world, and the knowing curve of his mouth reassuring her, there was only one reality for her, and that was Sharif.
‘And now you have a job to do,’ he said, breaking the dangerous spell. Removing the cushions, he carefully eased her legs down.
‘What?’ she said, wondering if this was the moment to admit to herself that she would walk on hot coals if that was what it took to have Sharif touch her again.
She followed his gaze to the dish of cream.
Desert robes were intended to come off with the least amount of trouble, Britt discovered as she loosened the laces on the front of Sharif’s robe. As it dropped away to reveal his magnificent chest she realised that she might have found the sight of such brute force intimidating had she not known that Sharif was subtle rather than harsh and, above all, blessed with remarkable self-control.
She was glad when he turned on his stomach and stretched out. She wasn’t sure she was ready for the whole of naked Sharif just yet. This warrior of the desert was a giant of a man with a formidable physique. Using leisurely strokes, she massaged every part of him, though had to stop herself paying too much attention to his buttocks. They might be the most perfect buttocks she had ever seen on a man, buttocks to mould with your hands—to sink your teeth in—but there was only so much cream to spare, she reflected wryly as he turned. ‘Did I say you could move?’
‘Continue,’ he murmured, settling onto his back.
Okay, so she could do this—and with Sharif watching, if she had to. Hadn’t they both seen each other naked in the snow? And was she going to turn her back on Sharif’s challenge? Because that was what this was. She had acted big-time girl-around-town, and now he’d called her bluff as she’d called his at the ice lake. He’d come through that with flying colours—flying them high and proud.
How could she ever forget?
She took her time scooping up more cream in her hands and spent ages warming it until she really couldn’t put off what had to be done any longer. She began with his chest, loving the sensation as she spread the cream across his warm, firm flesh. She moved on down his arms, right to his fingertips where she spent quite a lot of time lavishing care and attention on hands that were capable of dealing the most extreme pleasure—and gasped with shock when Sharif captured her hands and guided them down. They exchanged a look: his challenging and hers defiant.
He won.
Thank goodness.
Sharif had creamed her intimately and she would do the same for him…
Maybe they both won.
She took her time to make certain that every thick, pulsing inch of him was liberally coated with the cream. She was breathless with excitement at the thought of having all of that inside her—
‘So, Britt,’ he said, distracting her momentarily. ‘You’re beginning to see the benefit in delay.’
‘And what if I am?’ she said carelessly.
‘Don’t pretend with me,’ Sharif warned, stretching out, totally unconcerned by his nudity.
As well he might be, she thought, admiring him in silence.
‘So what do you think of my golden room of pleasure?’ he demanded.
‘Not bad,’ she agreed. She’d come across perks in business before, but none like this.
‘So you like it?’ he said with amusement.
‘It’s fascinating,’ was as far as she was prepared to commit. ‘Okay, so it’s fabulous,’ she admitted when he gave her a look.
‘But?’ he queried.
‘It’s got such a vibe of forbidden pleasure—how can anyone be here without feeling guilty?’
‘Do you feel guilty?’
Actually, no. The cream was beginning to do its work. ‘It’s just that this is the sort of place where anything could happen…’
‘What are you getting at, Britt?’
Her throat tightened. ‘I’d like to hear about all the possibilities,’ she said.
And so Sharif told her about the various uses of the hard and soft cushions, and the feathers she had been wondering about. She blushed at his forthright description.
‘What about your sauna in Skavanga?’ Sharif countered, seeing her reaction to his explanation. ‘What about your birch twig switches?’
‘They are used for health reasons—to get the blood flowing faster.’
She wasn’t going to ask any more questions, because she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear Sharif’s answers.
‘Ice and fire,’ he murmured, staring at her.
They held that stare for the longest time while decisions were being made by both of them. Finally, she knelt in front of him, and, reaching up, cupped his face in her hands. That thanks she had intended to give him for saving her life was well overdue. Leaning forward, she kissed him gently on the lips.
Sharif’s lips were warm and firm. They could curve with humour or press down in a firm line. Both she loved, but now she wanted to both tempt and seduce. She increased the pressure and teased his lips apart with his tongue, but just as she began kissing him more deeply Sharif swung her beneath him and pinned her down.
‘All that trouble I’ve gone to with you, Britt Skavanga,’ he complained, smiling against her mouth, ‘and all you really want is this—’
She let out a shocked cry as Sharif lodged one powerful leg between her thighs, allowing her to feel just how much he wanted it too.
‘All you want is the romance of the desert and the sheikh taking you. Admit it,’ he said.
‘You are impossible.’
‘And you are incredible,’ he murmured, drawing her into his arms.
‘I do want you,’ she admitted, still reluctant to give any ground.
‘Well, isn’t that convenient?’ Sharif murmured. ‘Because I want you too.’
This teasing was all the more intense because she knew where it was leading. She knew Sharif wouldn’t pull back, and nor would she. Somehow her legs
opened wider for him, and somehow she was pulling her knees back and pressing her thighs apart and he was testing her for readiness, and catching inside her—
And she was moving her hips to capture more of him, only to discover that the cream had most definitely done its work. One final thrust of her hips and she claimed him completely. When Sharif took her firmly to the hilt, she lost control immediately. She might have called his name. She might have called out anything. She only knew that when the sensation started to subside he took her over the edge again and again.
They were insatiable. No thrust was too deep or too firm, no pace too fast, or too deliciously slow. Her cries of pleasure encouraged Sharif and he made her greedy for more. He never seemed to tire. He never seemed to tire of drawing out her pleasure, either, and each time was more powerful than the last, until finally she must have passed out from exhaustion.
‘Welcome to my world, Britt Skavanga,’ was the last thing she heard him say before drifting contentedly off to sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE WATCHED BRITT sleeping, knowing he had been searching for a woman like this all his life. And now he’d found her, he couldn’t have her? Britt would never agree to be his mistress. And when he married—
When he married?
Yes, Sharif’s thoughts where Britt was concerned were every bit as strong as that. Selfishly, he hoped she felt the same way about him. But he had always believed when he married it should be for political reasons, for the good of his country. He’d never been much interested before. His council had pressed him into giving advantageous matches consideration, but he’d never had an appetite for the task. He wanted a woman who excited him—a woman like Britt.
Warm certainty rushed through him as he brushed a strand of hair away from Britt’s still-flushed face. He would find a way. The Black Sheikh could always find a way. He would never ask Britt to give up her independence. No one knew better than he that privilege came with a price, and that price was freedom to do as he pleased, but with a woman like Britt anything was possible.
Or, was it? Britt was exceptional and could do great things in life. She deserved the chance to choose her own path, while his was cast in stone. And then there was Skavanga Mining, and all the subterfuge with her brother…
He exhaled heavily as business and personal feelings collided. The consortium needed Britt’s expertise in the mining industry as well as her people skills, but would she stay with the company when the consortium took over? She had been running the company up to now, so it would take some fine diplomacy on his part to keep Britt on board. Could he find something to soften the blow for her?
His dilemma was this: while he cared deeply for Britt, his loyalty could only be fixed in one direction, and his was firmly rooted in the consortium.
The phone flashing distracted him. It was Raffa to say he had been forced to move money into Skavanga Mining on the recommendation of their financial analysts. Britt could only see this as another plot, when in fact what Raffa had done had saved the company.
‘Our money men are already swarming on Skavanga Mining, and we need you on the ground to reassure everyone that the changes don’t mean catastrophe,’ Raffa was saying.
‘What about Tyr?’ And the grand reunion he had been planning for Britt.
‘Tyr can’t be there—’
‘What do you mean, Tyr can’t be there?’ He cursed viciously. Having Tyr in Skavanga in person would have softened the blow for Britt when she discovered Tyr’s golden shares had swung the ownership of the company into the hands of the consortium. But now—how was he going to explain Tyr’s absence without betraying Britt’s brother as he had promised faithfully not to do?
He had to get back to Skavanga Mining right away to sort this out—and he could only do that without Britt’s newly discovered emotions getting in the way, which meant returning to Skavanga without her. Thankfully, his jet was always fuelled. ‘I’ll be there in fourteen hours,’ he said, ending the call.
Glancing at Britt, he knew there was no time to waste, and by the time he had woken her and explained as gently as he could about Tyr coming into the equation it could all be over in Skavanga. This was one emergency she would definitely want to be part of, but it was better if he prepared the ground first, and then sent the jet back for her.
* * *
She woke cautiously and her first thought was of Sharif. She didn’t want to wake him as it was barely dawn. The first thin sliver of light was just beginning to show beneath the entrance to the tent. She stretched luxuriously, and, still half asleep, reached out to find him…
The empty space at her side required she open one eye. The initial bolt of surprise and disappointment was swiftly replaced by sound reasoning. He must have gone riding. It was dawn. It was quiet. It was the perfect time of day for riding. Groaning with contentment, she rolled over in the bed of soft silken cushions, and, clutching one, nestled her face into it, telling herself that it still held Sharif’s faint, spicy scent. He’d held her safe through the night, and the pleasure they’d shared was indescribable. The closeness between them was real, and she was content, a state she couldn’t claim very often. This encouraged her to dream that one day they might work side by side to create something special, something lasting, and not just for Skavanga, but for Kareshi too.
She stilled to listen to the muffled sounds of the encampment coming to life for another day. She could hear voices calling somewhere in the distance and cooking vessels clanking against each other, and then there was the gentle pop and fizz of the water in her bathing pool as it bubbled up from its warm underground source. Everything was designed to soothe the senses. Everything was in tune with her sleepy, mellow mood. She wasn’t too warm or too cold, and her body felt deliciously well used by a man who made every day a special day, an exciting day.
Yes, she was a contented woman this morning, Britt reflected as she stretched languorously on her silken bed, and she couldn’t ever remember feeling that way before—
She jumped up when the phone rang.
‘Leila?’
She sat bolt upright. When her younger sister called it was invariably good news. Leila didn’t have a grouchy bone in her body and had to be one of the easiest people in the world to get along with, and Britt was bursting to share the news about her growing closeness with Sharif. ‘It’s so good to hear your voice—’
An ominous silence followed.
‘Leila, what’s wrong?’ Britt realised belatedly that if it was dawn in the desert it was the middle of the night in Skavanga.
‘I don’t know where to start.’ Leila’s voice was soft and hesitant. ‘We’re in trouble. You have to come home, Britt. We need you.’
‘Who’s in trouble? What’s happened?’ Britt pressed anxiously. Her stomach took a dive as she waited for Leila to answer.
‘The company.’
As Leila’s voice tailed away Britt glanced at the empty side of the bed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m coming straight home.’
She was already off the bed and launching herself through the curtains with her brain in gear. ‘Hang on a minute, Leila.’ Grabbing a couple of towels from the stack by the pool, she wrapped them around her and ran to the entrance of the pavilion where she saw a passing girl and beckoned her over. Smiling somehow, she gestured urgently for her clothes, before retreating back into the privacy of the pavilion.
‘Okay, I’m here,’ she reassured her sister. ‘So tell me what’s going on.’
The pause at the other end of the line might have been a few seconds, but it felt like for ever. ‘Leila, please,’ Britt prompted.
‘The consortium has taken over the company,’ Leila said flatly.
‘What?’ Britt reeled back. ‘How could they do that? I had the confidence of all the small shareholders before I left.’
‘But we don’t have enough shares between us to stave off a takeover, and they’ve bought some more from somewhere.’
‘The consortium’s betrayed our trust?�
� Which meant Sharif had betrayed her. ‘I don’t believe it. You must have got it wrong—’
‘I haven’t got it wrong,’ Leila insisted. ‘Their money men are already here.’
‘In the middle of the night?’
‘It’s that critical, apparently.’
While she was in a harem tent in the desert!
Had nothing changed? Had she learned nothing? Sharif had walked away from her again—distracted her again. And this time it all but destroyed her. For a moment she couldn’t move, she couldn’t think.
‘I’m sorry if I shocked you,’ Leila said.
Shock?
‘I’m sorry that you’ve had to handle this on your own,’ Britt said, forcing her mind to focus. ‘I’ll be there just as soon as I can get a flight.’
She had been stupidly taken in, Britt realised. Sharif had betrayed her. By his own admission, nothing was signed off without the Black Sheikh’s consent. He must have known about the share deals all along.
‘There’s one thing I don’t get,’ she said. ‘How can the deal be done when the family holds the majority shareholding? You didn’t sell out to him, did you?’
‘Not us,’ Leila said quietly.
‘Who then?’
‘Tyr…Tyr has always had more shares than we have. Don’t you remember our grandmother leaving him the golden shares?’
Shock hit her again. Their grandmother had done something with the shares, Britt remembered, but she had been too young to take it in. ‘Is Tyr with you? Is he there?’ Suddenly all that mattered was seeing her brother again. Tyr had always made things right when they were little— Or was that just her blind optimism at work again? She couldn’t trust her own judgement these days.
‘No. Tyr’s not here, Britt. Neither Eva or I has seen him. The only thing I can tell you is that Tyr and the Black Sheikh are the main forces behind this deal,’ Leila explained, hammering another nail into the coffin of Britt’s misguided dream. ‘The sheikh has got his lawyers and accountants swarming all over everything.’
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