Never Seduce a Sheikh (International Bad Boys Book 2)

by Jackie Ashenden

  Shock began to trickle through her. “How did you survive?”

  “The desert people found me. They looked after me for a while, before taking me back to the palace.” He paused. “Yesterday you asked me why Khalid was so harsh to them? Well, that is the reason. Because of their treatment of me.”

  No wonder he was so cautious with them. So respectful to their wishes. It wasn’t only because he wanted to mark himself out as being different from his father.

  “You feel you owe them?”

  “I do. What they did for me cannot ever be repaid.”

  She didn’t want to ask her next question but she couldn’t stop herself. “What happened when you went back? Khalid didn’t—”

  “No. That was the last time I was beaten. My father did not touch me again.”

  She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his face. From the darkness she saw in his eyes. In the crystal heart of that startling blue, something black lurked.

  Something that made a small, electric thrill go through her. She tried to ignore it. “I wondered why you were so tense in the car. Being here must be difficult.”

  He looked away, out to the dunes. “More so than I expected.”

  She stared at his perfect, stern profile. They must have been bad, those memories of his. She couldn’t imagine the strength it took to confront them. “You’re doing better than I am in that case. I haven’t been back to the pool since Dan.”

  He glanced back at her. “Because of the memories?”

  “Yes. He ruined swimming for me. He ruined a lot of things for me.”

  The look in his blue eyes hardened. “Then, don’t let him, Lily.”

  Instinctively, she opened her mouth to argue. But then stopped.

  She’d been telling herself for years that she was over what Dan had done to her. That she’d moved on with her life. Yet had she? She no longer went swimming. Had put aside her Olympic victory. Didn’t even look at men anymore. Had thrown herself into a masculine job, because she’d wanted to prove she could do it. Prove she was stronger.

  But she hadn’t. All she’d proved was that she hadn’t moved on. That deep in her heart she was still in that darkened room with Dan touching her. Still ashamed she hadn’t fought him off hard enough.

  The breath caught in her throat, a piercing realization slicing straight through her.

  Dan was still taking things from her. Her gold medal. Her joy in the water. Her sexuality. Her femininity. Herself.

  Lily put her hands down on the sand, staring at Isma’il. “You’re right,” she said hoarsely. “I shouldn’t let him. Well, now it ends.” She held his gaze, finally admitting to herself what she’d been trying to ignore for the past couple of days. That she was attracted to him. That she wanted him. Wanted this sheikh. “Kiss me again.”

  A spark flared in his gaze, but he made no move, staring back at her. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve let Dan have far too much power. I’ve let him ruin things for me for far too long.” She took a breath. “I’ve never felt attracted to anyone, Sheikh. Not until I met you. And I’ve been afraid of it. Well, I don’t want to be afraid of it any more. I want what I should have had if he hadn’t touched me. I want the kiss I should have had years ago.”

  Isma’il’s blue eyes never left hers. “You’ve already had that.”

  “I want it again.”

  “No.”

  She blinked. “No? Why not?”

  “Because I do not want to give you the kind of kiss you expect, Lily.”

  Heat swept over her skin. Stopped her breath, her heart thudding loudly in her ears. “And what kind of kiss do you think I’m expecting?”

  “Something gentle. Something light.” Turquoise eyes glittered in the light of the setting sun, burning her. “And I cannot do either with you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why do you think? I want you too much.”

  “So?” She leaned forward, the lean, powerful length of his body sitting so close. He was hotter than the sand, hotter than the sun. And she was sick of running from the heat between them. Sick of letting memories of Dan pollute her life. “I want you too.”

  “No, Lily.”

  “Stop protecting me. You’re worse than Dan, treating me like a bloody victim!”

  The heat ignited in his eyes and suddenly he moved, a hand at the back of her head, hard fingers lacing through her hair, gripping her. Holding her still. “You really want to know what I want to do to you, Lily Harkness? You really want a taste of what I’m capable of?”

  The breath shuddered in her throat, but she didn’t look away, meeting the challenge in his eyes with her own. “Yes,” she gasped.

  “Last chance.”

  “I don’t need a chance. Show me what I should be so afraid of, Sheikh.”

  His fingers in her hair tightened almost painfully. “Isma’il,” he said, in a fierce, hard voice. “That is my name. Say it.”

  “Isma’il,” she breathed, because she’d been dying to say his name, but hadn’t allowed herself the pleasure of it.

  And then his mouth came down, hard and hot and sure on hers.

  This kiss bore no resemblance to the one she’d given him. Hers had been careful, hesitant. But his wasn’t. One hand gripped her chin, forcing her head back, his thumb pushing her lip down, opening her mouth to his. She gasped and he took advantage, the heat of his tongue invading her, exploring her, raw and hot and dominant.

  So good. So intense. She pressed her palms against the hard wall of his chest, his skin burning through the cotton of his shirt, felt the heat of him like a fire against her. He answered her touch by pulling her head back further, kissing her harder, deeper.

  She could taste his need for her. Feel the intensity of it. Rough and demanding, no holding back. And she revelled in it. Loved the feeling of power it gave her. How it made her into a woman instead of a victim.

  She wasn’t ready when he let her go and she couldn’t stop the moan of protest when he released her with a sharp movement, surging to his feet.

  “I didn’t say stop,” she panted, kneeling on the sand, staring up at him.

  He towered over her, one hand pushing his black hair off his face, his eyes glittering with desire, color burning on his sharp cheekbones. A thrill went through her to see his usual urbane charm stripped away, leaving something raw and passionate in its place.

  “That is not up to you,” he said in a cracked voice.

  She got to her feet. “Why shouldn’t it be? Why shouldn’t I have what I want for a change?”

  “Because you do not understand what you’re asking for.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Isma’il. I know exactly what I’m asking for. And if that kiss is an example of what you can give me, then I’m telling you, that’s what I want.”

  “Sex in the dunes? Is that truly what you want? Because that is exactly what you’ll get if I kiss you again.”

  She swallowed. “What would be so bad about that?”

  “For one thing I have no protection. For another, I do not have anything to put down over the sand.” His blue eyes held hers. “And for a third, I will not have sex with a virgin on a sand dune.”

  Lily didn’t bother to contradict his assumption. If her inexperienced kiss hadn’t given it away, it was easy enough to infer given her response to what Dan had done to her. “What does my virginity matter? It’s just a reminder of what that assault took from me. It means nothing to me whatsoever.”

  His hand dropped to his side. “It may not mean anything to you, but it means something to me.”

  “Why? Why should it matter to you?”

  “Because a moment that should have been precious to you was ruined by one man. I will not ruin another.”

  She took a step towards him. “Dan only ruined that moment because I let him. That’s what you told me and you were right. But you won’t ruin this one. I won’t let you.”

  “You are assuming I will even give you the choice.”

 
Shock slid down her spine. “What do you mean?”

  “What do you think, Habibti?” There was a hard, dangerous glitter in his eyes. “I like my sex rough, I like it dirty, and I always demand total control.”

  Her mouth went dry and it had nothing to do with the desert heat. She’d always known his charm masked something darker. Something far more dangerous. But it didn’t frighten her. A challenge never had. “What makes you think I wouldn’t give it to you?”

  Just for a moment, a feral hunger showed in his eyes. “Because you are not the type of woman who would surrender easily. And I would like that. I would like that far too much.”

  Lily took a breath, her fingers curled into her palm, the heat of him still lingering on her skin, the hot, rich taste of him on her tongue. She couldn’t look away from him, from that hunger in his gaze.

  Abruptly, Isma’il cursed, a soft sound in Arabic. Then, he turned and began walking back down the dune towards the car.

  She stared after his tall, powerful figure, moving easily and gracefully in the sand.

  Would she like that? Would she like him having total control over her?

  The thought made her tense at the vulnerability of it. Of the trust she would have to give. A trust she’d never given to any man except her father.

  Slowly, she uncurled her fingers, took a small breath.

  It wasn’t just the trust she had to consider either. There was also the little issue of the oil deal and how sleeping with the Sheikh of Dahar would affect that. Keeping work and her sex life separate had never been a problem before, for the simple reason she’d never had a sex life.

  But then, she’d never met a man like Isma’il before. A man who seemed to understand her in a way no one else had ever done.

  Would sleeping with him affect this deal? Would he be worth the risk?

  And more importantly, if so, would she be able to change his mind?

  * * *

  Isma’il jerked open the car door and got in, not waiting to see if Lily had followed. Desire and anger tangled inside him, knotting into a hot, seething mass of emotion that pressed at the edges of his control. Desire for Lily, for her bare skin beneath his fingers, her hot mouth. Her long legs around his waist, her gasp of surrender as he drove inside her. Anger at himself. For taking that kiss and not holding back. For wanting what he could not let himself have. And he could not have Lily.

  It wasn’t only because of the potential deal with Harkness. If so, he could have indulged himself after the contract had been signed. But it wasn’t just that. She’d already been marked by a man’s violence and his self-control around her was almost non-existent. And that was a fatal combination.

  He knew what he was capable of. The violence he could mete out. There were good reasons for the control he kept himself under and he could not—would not—put Lily at risk simply because he wanted her in his bed.

  “Blood will out, boy. Blood will out . . . ”

  Isma’il pulled hard on the car door, the slam drowning out Khalid’s voice in his head.

  No, if he wanted sex, he’d wait until he got back to the palace. Find one of those sweet, submissive women he preferred in his bed. Women who did what they were told. Who spread their legs and didn’t fight, didn’t argue. Didn’t push. Didn’t challenge.

  He put his hands on the steering wheel, gripped it tightly. And tried to tell himself that’s what he wanted. That’s who he wanted.

  But of course, he didn’t. What he wanted was Lily.

  The passenger door opened and then she was there, filling the car with that clean, sharp scent of hers. So different from the sweet heat of her mouth, the silky feel of her hair.

  His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel.

  “If you were trying to frighten me, you failed,” she said.

  “I didn’t say that to frighten you. I said it because it was the truth.” He started the engine, pulled back onto the rocky desert road.

  A tense, thick silence filled the inside of the car.

  “Do you think I care?” she asked abruptly. “Perhaps I’d like to give you the control. Perhaps that would turn me on.”

  “You do not know what you want, Lily, and I am not the man to teach you.”

  He didn’t need to look at her to feel her anger.

  “You bloody, patronizing bast—”

  “There is also the contract to consider,” he said sharply, cutting her off. “I would not want any sexual affair we may have to get in the way of this deal and I don’t think you do either.”

  “The oil deal has nothing to do with this, so stop using it as an excuse.”

  Ah God, she should not do this. Not now. “Do not push me. You will not like the consequences.”

  “Really? And what would you do to me? What would you do that frightens you so damn much?”

  His foot came down hard on the brake, the car jerking to an abrupt halt, gravel and sand spraying everywhere. He turned, met her dark eyes. She gripped her seatbelt tightly, but betrayed not even a hint of fear.

  “You’ve already been forced and hurt by one man. Would you really want that from another?” he demanded. “Because that’s what I want to do to you, Lily. I want to take you roughly, take you hard. And if you fight me I will like that all the more, because then I can subdue you, dominate you.”

  She blinked and he heard the catch in her breath. “Is this the kind of treatment you mete out to every woman you want?”

  “No. Just you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because other women do what I tell them.” He sat back in his seat, put the car into gear again. “And you do not.”

  Lily didn’t say anything for a long moment, but he could feel the pressure of her gaze. As if she was trying to see past the guards he made sure were always in place. See into him. “Why would that matter to you? Why is control so important?”

  Because it was the only thing that stood between himself and the darkness. The violence. The red haze across his vision. A riding crop covered in blood.

  “Because passion is dangerous, Habibti. And you, of all people, should know that.”

  But she just gave him that cool, level stare. The one she did so well. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Sheikh. I know wouldn’t.”

  “You do not know me, Lily Harkness. And you have no idea what I would or wouldn’t do.”

  Her mouth opened. Then, closed tight and finally she looked away.

  Isma’il told himself he didn’t care that she didn’t argue.

  But he did.

  * * *

  It was late, but Lily couldn’t sleep. She lay on the bed in her tent, staring into the dark. Outside the tent walls, the night seemed quiet for a place full of people with only material shielding them.

  She sighed and turned over, feeling hot and restless, her skin too tight, too sensitive. Her mouth still burned from Isma’il’s kiss and the heat of his body still lingered on her fingertips.

  She wanted. She ached. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

  Eventually, cursing, she got up. Began to move restlessly around the tent. Pacing.

  She’d never felt sexual desire before. Not for anyone. As if what Dan had done to her had killed her libido stone dead. She’d told herself she didn’t care, that sex had never been all that important to her, and because she’d never felt the urge, it wasn’t.

  But now it was different. Meeting Isma’il had roused her sleeping sexuality and that kiss in the dunes had woken it up completely. And now it was awake, she felt every second of those empty, dead years like a stone pressing down on her.

  She wanted to cross the darkness between her tent and Isma’il’s, and find out exactly what he’d meant by hot and rough and dirty. Make up for all those lost years of feeling nothing. But something held her back and she couldn’t work out if it was the words of warning he’d spoken to her in the car earlier, or whether it was fear of what he might do. Because, if she was honest with herself, she had no idea how she’d handle it.
<
br />   She paused by the tent’s entrance, pushing back the flap and looking towards his tent. The heavy canvas shielded most things, but she could tell a light was burning there. He was up too.

  Was it truly fear of him that kept her here? And if so, what kind of fear? She’d never been physically afraid of him. Regardless of what he thought about himself, she knew he would never hurt her. And although she’d never been sexual in her life with anyone, she wasn’t innocent. She knew what went on, so it wasn’t fear of the unknown either.

  No. It wasn’t him she was afraid of. It was herself. Fear of the feelings he stirred in her. The intensity of her desire in response to his kiss. The electricity that raced across her skin when he touched her. The deep ache of need that had uncurled inside her out in the dunes.

  She shivered. Fear had never held her back in the past, so why was she letting it do so now? Because there was nothing wrong with desire. Everyone felt it.

  Lily went still, staring into the dark. Dan had made her doubt herself. Dan had told her she’d wanted it. And she, confused and shocked, thought that maybe she had.

  Yet she’d never felt for Dan what she’d felt for Isma’il the moment he’d kissed her.

  That was true sexual desire. That was actual want.

  The breath escaped her as the realization hit. Because no, she hadn’t wanted what Dan had done to her. She’d never wanted it. And now that she’d felt actual desire, she knew the damn difference. Dan had lied to her.

  God, her whole life had been spent proving him wrong. Proving she wasn’t his victim. But all this time, that’s exactly what she’d remained. Until Isma’il had taken her in his arms. Until he’d kissed her and she’d felt the strength of him as he’d gripped her hair, the passion that had burned through him and into her. His hunger for her. And felt her own hunger rise to meet it.

  No, she hadn’t been a victim then. She’d been strong and powerful, and she’d loved every second of it.