The Sheik's Virgin

by Susan Mallery

  Phoebe knew she couldn’t possibly accept such an extravagant gift. However, Mazin’s note made her smile and then laugh. As if anything about her could ever frighten him.

  She made the mistake of carrying the dress over to the mirror and holding it up in front of herself. Then she tried it on.

  As she’d feared, the sensual fabric clung to every curve. Yet something about the material or the style or both made her actually look as if she had something worth clinging to. Her breasts seemed fuller, her waist smaller. She had a vision of herself in more dramatic makeup, with her hair cascading in curls down her back. While she’d never believed that she looked anything like Ayanna, with a little help she might come close.

  Still wearing the dress, Phoebe dashed for the phone. She called the beauty salon in the hotel. Luckily they had a cancellation and would be happy to assist her in her transformation. If she would care to come downstairs in a half hour or so?

  Phoebe agreed and hung up. Then she returned her attention to her reflection. Tonight she would look like the best possible version of herself. Would it be enough?

  * * *

  Phoebe arrived first at the restaurant. Mazin had called at the last minute, telling her that he was delayed with a small matter of work. He had sent a car to collect her and had promised to join her by seven.

  She was shown to a private table upstairs. Carved screens kept the curious from knowing who sat there, while allowing her a perfect view of the stage. A cluster of musicians sat on one side of the room playing for the diners. Candlelight twinkled from every table.

  The waiter lingered for several minutes, talking and staring until Phoebe realized he thought she was attractive. She’d never captured a man’s attention before, and while the appreciative gleam in the young man’s eyes flattered her, there was only one opinion that mattered.

  The waiter disappeared for a few minutes, then returned with champagne. He poured her a glass. When he would have lingered longer, she told him she would be fine by herself. Obviously disappointed by the dismissal, he left.

  Phoebe sipped the bubbly liquid. To think that after nearly three short weeks on the island a young man had actually noticed her. Much of it was the dress and the makeover, she thought, knowing she had never looked better. But she suspected there was some other reason. She was a different person than she had been when she arrived on the island.

  Being with Mazin had changed her.

  She leaned back in her chair. Except for the occasional afternoon when he’d had to return to work or his family, Mazin had spent most of his days with her. They had talked about everything from history to books to movies to her youth to her plans when she returned to Florida. They had shared sunsets, meals and laughter, and he had been more than kind the few times she had given in to tears. They had been to every place on Ayanna’s list. Every place but one. Lucia’s Point.

  Phoebe took a deep breath to calm her suddenly frantic nerves. She had little time left on the island, and then she would return to her small, solitary world. She knew that being with Mazin was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but when she was home things would go on as before. She would attend college and get her degree in nursing. Perhaps she would do better at making friends, perhaps she might even meet a young man. But there, no one would ever be as much a part of her as Mazin. Wherever she went and whatever she did, he would be with her.

  She knew that their time together hadn’t meant the same thing to him as it did to her, and she could accept that. But she liked to think that she mattered a little. He had indicated that he found her attractive, that he enjoyed kissing her. So she had to ask.

  Maybe he would laugh. Maybe he would be embarrassed and try to refuse her gently. Perhaps she had completely misunderstood his interest. But regardless of the many possibilities for rejection, she would not have regrets.

  Voices in the hallway distracted her. She turned and saw Mazin slipping between the screens. He was as tall and handsome as ever. The black tuxedo he wore only emphasized his good looks. She rose to her feet and approached him. His smile turned from pleased to appreciative, and their kiss of greeting seemed as natural as breathing.

  “I see you are wearing the dress I sent you. I trust you will not punish me for my boldness.”

  His teasing made her smile. In that moment her heart tightened in her chest, giving her a little tug. Phoebe had the sudden realization that she was in more danger than she had thought. Had she already fallen in love with Mazin?

  Before she could consider the question, the pace of the music increased. Several young women took to the stage and began to dance. Phoebe and Mazin were seated and the waiter appeared with their first course.

  Something about the rapid movement of the dancers captured Phoebe’s attention. Part of it might have been that it was safer to look at them than gaze at Mazin. Apprehension made it impossible for her to eat.

  “Some dances are for entertainment,” he said, leaning close to be heard. She could inhale the masculine fragrance of him, and the appealing scent made her tremble. “Some tell a story. This is the journey of the nomads in their search for water. The life-giving force is essential.”

  He continued talking, but she couldn’t listen to anything but the thundering of her heart. Could she do this? Could she not? Would she rather ask and know, or would she rather wonder? Hadn’t Ayanna made her promise not to have regrets?

  “You have yet to touch your food, and I suspect you are not listening to me.”

  She turned to him. The beat of the music seemed to thunder in her blood.

  She studied his face, the way his dark hair had been brushed back from his forehead, the strong cut of his cheekbones, the faint bow in his top lip.

  He touched her face with his knuckles. “Tell me, Phoebe. I can see the questions in your eyes, and something that looks like fear. Yet you need not fear anything from me. Surely we have spent enough hours together for you to know that.”

  “I do know,” she whispered, unable to look away from his compelling gaze. “It’s just…” She drew in a breath. “You have been more than kind to me. I want you to know that I appreciate all you’ve done.”

  He smiled. “Do not thank me too heartily. Kindness was not my motivation. I’m far too selfish a man for that.”

  “I don’t believe that. Nor do I understand what you see in me. I’m young and inexperienced. But you’ve made everything about my time here really wonderful. So it seems wrong to ask for one more thing.”

  “Ask me for anything. I suspect I will find it difficult to refuse you.”

  He brushed his thumb across her lower lip. She shivered. The contact made her want so much, and it also, along with his words, gave her courage.

  “Mazin, would you take me to Lucia’s Point tomorrow?”

  His dark eyes turned unreadable. Not by a flicker of a lash did he give away what he was thinking. She swallowed.

  “I know the custom. That I may only go there with a lover. I don’t have one. A lover, I mean. I’ve never…” Why didn’t the man say something? She could feel herself blushing. Words began to fail her. “I thought you might like to stay with me tonight. To change that. To—”

  Her throat closed and she had to stop talking. Unable to meet his gaze any longer, she stared at her lap and waited for him to start laughing.

  Mazin studied the young woman in front of him. He had always thought of her as a quiet beauty, but tonight she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Some of her transformation came from the dress and makeup, but much of it was the result of a subtle confidence. At last Phoebe didn’t doubt herself.

  Until she had asked him to be her lover. He read the uncertainty in her posture, the questions in the quiver of her mouth. He knew she was unaware of how much he desired her, nor would she understand the iron control it had taken for him to keep his distance. Even as they sat there, his arousal pulsed painfully. If she had any experience, she would not question her appeal. But she did not possess that kind of
worldliness.

  He supposed a better man would find a way to refuse her gently. He knew he was the wrong person to take the precious gift she offered. For the first time in his life, he did not feel worthy.

  Yet he could not find it in his heart to walk away. He had wanted her for too long. The need inside him burned. To be her first, to hold her and touch her and make her his own—no one had ever offered him more.

  “My dove,” he murmured, leaning close.

  She raised her head, her eyes brimming with tears. Doubt clouded her pretty features. He brushed away a few tears that spilled over, then kissed her mouth.

  “I have ached for you from the moment I first saw you,” he said, speaking the absolute truth. “If I do not have you, a part of me will cease to exist.”

  Her mouth curved into a smile. “Is that a yes?”

  He laughed. “It is.”

  There would be consequences. To make love with a mature woman of experience was one thing—to take a virgin to his bed was another. Honor was at stake. Perhaps in this modern time there were those who took such things lightly, but not him. Not with Phoebe.

  He wondered what she would say if he told her the truth. Would she still want him in her bed? His conscience battled briefly with the notion of telling her. But he needed her too much to risk it.

  He shifted so he could speak directly into her ear.

  “Tell me of your appetites,” he murmured. “Would you like to stay for the rest of the meal and watch the dancers? Lingering will increase the anticipation. Or do you prefer to adjourn now?”

  “I don’t want to wait.”

  Her simple words sent a bolt of desire through him. His arousal ached. Tonight would be both endless torture and ultimate pleasure. He was determined to show her all the possibilities and make her first time as perfect as possible. Assuming his need did not kill him first.

  CHAPTER 7

  They left the restaurant immediately. Phoebe tried not to be scared as they stood waiting for Mazin’s car. But instead of his usual Mercedes, a black limo pulled up.

  “I wanted tonight to be special,” he said with a smile as he helped her into the backseat. “I thought you would enjoy the change.”

  She’d never been in a limo before, but saying that would make her sound even more unworldly and innocent than she was. Instead she tried to smile her thanks, even though her mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate.

  Her brain was a complete blank. The drive back to the hotel would be about fifteen minutes. Obviously they had to talk about something, but she couldn’t come up with a subject. What exactly was one supposed to discuss before making love for the first time?

  She glanced frantically around the luxurious interior. The seats were camel color, and the softest leather she had ever touched. To the left was a complicated entertainment center with dozens of dials, levers and switches, along with a small television. To the right was a full bar. A bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket.

  “Had you already planned on us…” Her voice trailed off.

  Mazin followed her gaze and touched the bottle of champagne. “I had thought we might take a walk along the beach and enjoy the moonlight,” he said. “But I had not hoped to have the honor of doing more than kissing you. If I had, I would have been more prepared.”

  More prepared? Was that possible? Didn’t the limo and the champagne spell seduction? Had her invitation simply made things easier for him?

  She wanted to ask Mazin, but he was no longer paying attention to her. Instead he seemed to be searching for something. He ran his hands along the back of the seat and pressed against the wood paneling on the doors.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked, bewildered.

  “There is a storage compartment somewhere.” He shifted to the seat behind the driver and examined the leather.

  “My oldest son mentioned it to me,” he said, more to himself than to her. “He joked about always keeping the car stocked.”

  Phoebe had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Why would your son be using a limo?”

  Mazin didn’t answer. He pressed against the wood panel. “At last,” he said as it gave way.

  The paneling opened to reveal a good-sized compartment. There was a change of clothing, more champagne and a box that she couldn’t quite see. Mazin reached for the box. She shrank back into the corner of the seat when she read the labeling.

  Condoms.

  Phoebe’s romantic images of what might happen that evening crashed in around her. Reality was not a fuzzy, slow-motion dance of kissing and touching. If they were going to make love, then there were potential consequences of the act. Protection was required. The sensible part of her brain applauded Mazin’s cautious nature. Her romantic heart shriveled inside.

  He glanced up and saw her. She was unable to turn away before he had a chance to see the expression on her face. She didn’t know what she looked like, but whatever it was, it was enough to make him swear under his breath.

  He shoved several packets into his tux pocket, closed the compartment and returned to her side.

  “You do not want me to be practical?” he asked, putting an arm around her and pulling her close.

  “I know it’s important.” She stared at the crisp edge of his collar rather than at his face. “I appreciate you taking care of me by, um, you know. Making sure you had, ah, protection.”

  “But it has destroyed the fantasy, yes?”

  She raised her gaze to his face. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “I know you, my dove. I promise to make this night as fantastical as I know how, but I will not compromise your health or leave you with something you did not want.”

  A baby. He was talking about her getting pregnant. In that second, Phoebe desperately wanted to have his child. What she would give to have a little girl with his dark, flashing eyes and easy grace. Or a sturdy little boy like Dabir, who fearlessly took on the world.

  He touched her chin, forcing her to raise her head, then he bent and kissed her.

  The soft pressure of his lips chased away her doubts. He kept the kiss light, but just being close to him was enough to make her body tingle all over. Before she could tempt him to deepen the contact, the car stopped.

  She raised her head. “Where are we?”

  “A side entrance to the hotel,” he said, opening the door and stepping out into the night. “I did not think you would be comfortable walking with me to the elevator. At this time of night the lobby would be crowded.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she followed him down a flower-lined path to a glass door that led in from the garden.

  Trust Mazin to be so considerate. She would have been embarrassed to have everyone know what they were going upstairs to do.

  Once inside, he led her to a service elevator in the back and they arrived on her floor without being seen by anyone. She fumbled for her key until he took her small evening bag from her and removed it. Then he unlocked the door and drew her inside her room.

  The balcony door stood open. A single lamp on the nightstand burned, and housekeeping had already been by to turn down the bed. Phoebe could smell the scent of the sea. She told herself to focus on that and not on her jangling nerves.

  Mazin locked the door and set her purse on the table by the mirror. He crossed to stand in front of her.

  “I see your tension has returned,” he said lightly. “Feel it if you must. But feel this, as well.” He pressed his mouth to her throat.

  The warm, damp kiss made her legs go weak. She had to hold on to him to keep from sliding to the floor. He kissed her neck, and licked the sensitive skin by her ear. One of his hands rested on her shoulder, his fingers rubbing her bare skin.

  “Beautiful Phoebe,” he breathed before taking her earlobe into his mouth and nibbling.

  Goose bumps broke out on her skin as he shifted to stand behind her. Her breasts seemed to swell as her nipples tightened. Between her legs she felt a tension a
nd an ache that made her want to press herself against him.

  He moved her hair over her shoulder and kissed his way down the back of her neck, to her shoulder blades. She hadn’t thought of her back as a very erotic part of her body, but when he lightly stroked her there, and followed that contact by an openmouthed kiss, she found it difficult to breathe.

  As he nibbled on her shoulder, he ran his hands up and down her arms. From there he slid his fingers to her waist. Anticipation filled her as he circled slowly, climbing higher and higher. He stood behind her and kissed her neck, even as he moved his hands up to touch her breasts.

  She exhaled in wonder as he cupped her small curves, holding them in his hands as if they were a most precious cargo. Even through the material of the dress she felt his warmth and the tender way he moved against her sensitized flesh.

  The style of the dress was such that she couldn’t wear a bra—at least, not any one that she had. At first she’d been nervous about going out that way, but now, with him stroking her, she was grateful. One less layer between his fingers and her aching body.

  She loved how he explored her curves. She wanted to beg him to slip off her dress so she could know what it was like to have him touch her bare skin. She wanted—

  She gasped as he lightly touched her nipples. She’d known they were tight with desire, but she hadn’t realized how sensitive that puckered skin could be. Fire shot through her, racing along her arms and legs before settling deep in her belly. He brushed them again and again, making her groan and lean back against him as pleasure filled her.

  She wasn’t sure how long they stood there, him touching her, her savoring the contact. At last he turned her in his arms and kissed her. A deep, satisfying kiss that made her body melt and her toes curl. She wrapped her arms around him, wanting to be as close as possible. This was what she’d waited for all her life. Nothing could go wrong as long as Mazin continued to touch her.