Never Seduce a Sheikh (International Bad Boys Book 2)

by Jackie Ashenden

  “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, Isma’il.”

  For a second, he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Thank you for what?”

  “For giving me exactly what I wanted. For not holding back.”

  A hard, knotted ball of tension began to unravel inside him. “I did not hurt you?”

  “No.” Her mouth curved. “Well, maybe just a little bit. But I liked it.” She lifted a hand to his chest, stroked her fingers lightly over his pectoral. “Fighting you was so bloody exciting. And now I feel . . . I feel free.”

  The tension unravelled still further, leaving a curious lightness inside his chest. “I’m glad. Because it is not over, Habibti.”

  He could have this couldn’t he? One night of total freedom with this woman, the only woman who’d ever given him permission to break the boundaries he set around himself. That was allowed surely?

  Isma’il leaned down, brushed her mouth with his, letting the lightness of her touch shiver over his skin. The clean, fresh smell of her cut with the musky perfume of sex was an aphrodisiac all on its own, his body insistently reminding him of what it wanted.

  Lily sighed, moving restlessly beneath him. “Yes . . . I did wonder. I thought there might be more to it than that.” Her fingers tangled in his hair and tightened as he moved lower, licking one pink nipple before taking it into his mouth. She arched as he suckled on her, giving a soft, ragged gasp. The taste of her skin, salty and sweet at the same time, was delicious.

  “There is more.” He nuzzled against her breast. “A lot more.” And he would give it to her. Give her an experience that would obliterate all memory of her bastard coach.

  “Are you ready for me?” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “I know you have not done this before.”

  “That doesn’t matter.” Her mouth curved a little more. “I’m aware of the mechanics.”

  She was all soft and amused and teasing, and he wanted to reciprocate, because he’d never seen her like this. But he couldn’t. He felt too on the edge, as if one push would send him over.

  “Lily . . . ” Her name, scraped raw.

  Perhaps she saw how close he was. Because although her smile slowly disappeared, the warmth in her eyes didn’t. A warmth he’d never thought he’d ever get from another person.

  “It’s okay, Isma’il,” she said softly. “I trust you.”

  The immensity of the simple statement slid into him, piercing him. Breaking him.

  Freedom. Oh, he was a fool to think he could have that, even for one night. This woman, this moment, was too precious to put at risk for his own selfish need.

  He would never be free. Never escape what he’d done to Khalid. Never escape who he was.

  And the sooner he accepted that the better.

  “You should not trust me. You should not.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, Sheikh.” A trace of the cool, poised CEO. “I’ll do anything else you want, but where I give my trust is my own decision.”

  He had no answer to that. Because to tell her why that was a bad decision would involve the truth. A truth that would bring violence to this bed. Darkness and blood and pain. And she’d already had that once before from one man. He wouldn’t be a second.

  “Stay there, exactly like that,” he murmured. Ordered. “I have to get something.”

  He went into the small bathroom and found the condoms that his well-meaning staff included in all of his many bathrooms, wherever he went. This was the first time he’d ever found himself availing himself of the opportunity here, in the desert.

  Taking one, he returned to the main room of the tent and stopped.

  Lily lay on his bed, her hair spread out on the sheets. She’d put her hands up over her head, her thighs fallen open. A picture of complete and utter female surrender. A picture made all the sweeter because it was her.

  Eyes the color of black coffee held his. “Is this how you want me?”

  He could barely speak. “This is exactly how I want you.”

  His hand shook as he got rid of his trousers and he had to take a breath to calm himself. Get a little bit of control back.

  “Isma’il?”

  He put one knee on the bed and bent, leaning over her. She frowned at him, concerned. “It’s all right, Lily,” he said thickly, and put one hand on her thigh, running it higher, her skin like silk beneath his fingers. Her muscles tensed and when he eased his hand between her thighs, she let out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering closed.

  Slick, wet heat against his fingertips, the softness of her parting, yielding as he stroked. Her body arched and he dipped his head, licking the hollow of her throat, tasting her skin. Tasting the desert on it and the clean saltiness that was all Lily.

  “I must have your obedience.” A command that he didn’t bother to temper. “Do not fight me now.” He had to have the control here. Had to do this his way, otherwise he would lose it.

  Her dark eyes searched his face and he felt himself tense at the hesitation. If she said no, he did not know what he would do.

  It felt like an eon until she finally nodded, and the relief nearly made him dizzy.

  “Good. That is very good, Habibti. Keep your arms above your head.”

  She obeyed, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

  So unbelievably sexy.

  He ripped open the condom packet, protecting them both and she watched him, her eyes huge and dark, her breathing fast and getting faster.

  “Turn over,” he ordered, his voice guttural.

  “But . . . but I want to see you.”

  “Please . . . ” He forced the word out. “It has to be this way.” He did not want her to look at his face. Did not want her to look into his eyes and see the dark heart of Khalid looking back at her. Better she didn’t look at him at all.

  She hesitated only a moment but then, taking a soft, ragged breath, she did as she was told, turning over onto her front. So beautiful. Long, elegant golden back, the soft swell of buttocks and thighs . . . perfection.

  Yes, this was better. This was safer.

  Isma’il slid an arm beneath her hips, lifting her. She made a soft sound, his name a murmur, ending on a low moan as he slid one hand up the back of her thigh, between her legs, touching, stroking the slickness of her sex.

  Gently, he spread her open with his fingers and eased hiself gently, slowly inside her.

  She tensed and he wanted to ask if she was okay, if it hurt, but he couldn’t speak.

  The wet heat of her almost blanked his mind. So tight. So unbearably tight. His grip on his control slipped, dark hunger rising inside him. He fought it back, grasping her hips, moving as slowly and gently as he could. But the need that clutched him was unstoppable.

  Lily took a sobbing breath as he slid one hand around to cup her breast, circling his thumb around her nipple then brushing over it, pinching lightly. “Oh . . . Isma’il . . . ” Her voice was barely recognizable.

  He thrust deeper, faster, unable to stop himself. The hunger roared inside his head, wanting her. Wanting to take her, devour her, mark her. Make her his. And he obeyed it, covering her body, bending his head and pressing his mouth against the sensitive place between her shoulder and neck. Biting her as he slid a hand down between her thighs, brushing her clitoris with his thumb. Lily’s back bowed and he felt her convulse around him, a wild cry bursting from her.

  Then, holding her tightly, he allowed the physical pleasure free rein, moving hard and fast and deep until it exploded inside his head like a firework and took him under.

  * * *

  Lily pressed her hot face into the sheets, the pleasure still ricocheting around inside her body, her heart thumping hard in her chest, feeling Isma’il collapse onto his side next to her, one arm still curled possessively around her waist.

  So, that was sex.

  She’d heard many times from various friends about how much of a disappointment their first time had been. How awkward and strange and messy and
painful. She’d never felt like she’d missed out on anything.

  But now she knew differently. That hadn’t just been pleasurable. That had been shattering. How was she supposed to put herself back together after that?

  “Are you okay?” Isma’il’s voice near her ear.

  “Yes.” She took a breath, then turned in his arms, meeting his gaze. Concern shaded the blue depths and it made her throat get a little tight. “I’m fantastic, actually.” She touched his cheek, his skin hot beneath her fingertips. “That was amazing. I had no idea sex was like that.”

  “It is not like that. Not usually.”

  “Not even for you?”

  “No.” He shifted his head, kissing her fingertips. “Not even for me.”

  Her heart felt tight, his lips soft beneath her fingers. “So is that your usual position?”

  “You are full of questions, Ms. Harkness. I am not sure I approve.”

  She smiled at the lazy tease in his voice. “I’m being serious. Why did you turn me over? I really wanted to see you.”

  Long, sooty black lashes flickered, veiling his gaze. “I told you, I like to be in charge. And that is a position where I can be.”

  He certainly had been. “Why? What’s so important about being in charge?”

  The long, lean powerful body next to hers tensed. “I would not be much of a sheikh without it.” The words were spoken lightly, betraying no evidence of the tension that gripped his body. “Wait there, Habibti. I will be back in a moment.”

  Lily frowned as he slipped off the bed and disappeared through the flap that led to the little bathroom. What kind of answer was that? Something else was going on here. He was holding something back and she wanted to know what it was.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked when he came back out again.

  “Telling you? Telling you what?” He got onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, her back to his chest, his body curving around his.

  She relaxed against him. Perhaps she shouldn’t push this. Perhaps she should just enjoy the after-glow. But no, this mattered. She wanted to know.

  “You like giving the orders. Being in charge. I just wanted to know why it’s so important.”

  The arm around her waist tightened, his breath along the back of her neck. “Why do you want to know?”

  She couldn’t stop the shiver that went through her. “Back in the car, you said passion was dangerous. I want to know why you thought that. Because you’ve just proved pretty conclusively that it isn’t.”

  “We should not be speaking of these things.”

  “Why not?” She turned in his arms “I told you about Dan. Can’t you give me something in return?”

  “This is not a game we’re playing.”

  “I know that.” Gently, she ran a finger along his jaw, tracing the strong line of it, unable to keep her hands off him. “But is it wrong to want to know more about you? You know everything about me.”

  He didn’t reply for a long moment. Then he said, “My history is not a pleasant one. I did not want to bring such memories here, with you.”

  She remembered what he’d said in the dunes. The look on his face as he’d told her. His father beating him. God . . . “Isma’il, it’s okay. If it’s too much, you don’t have to—”

  “No,” the word was soft, but stopped her. “You are right to ask. You have shared things with me. Painful things. You have faced them. Perhaps I need to do the same.” He paused. “Turn over for me.”

  Lily didn’t argue, turning again, the raw heat of him up against her back, drawn and held in the circle of his arms. She understood. Some things were easier to say when no one was looking at you.

  Behind her, she felt Isma’il’s mouth against her shoulder, brushing a kiss along it before he said, finally. “I do not like to be helpless. I do not like being at someone else’s mercy. Khalid had absolute power and he used it without qualm. Against anyone who stood up to him or argued with him, it didn’t matter who.” A small hesitation. “He used it on me and on my mother as well. And we could do nothing. My mother especially was powerless against him.”

  Lily put her hands over his where they lay on her stomach, feeling the tips of his fingers beneath hers. They were cold. Her throat felt tight. “I’m sorry, Isma’il.” Sorry. What a pathetic word to say. But she couldn’t think of anything else. “I’m sorry you had that man for a father. I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

  He said nothing for a long moment, but she felt his breath against her neck. “He was not my father. He was not worthy of the name.” Isma’il’s voice was rough. “He was not worthy to be called sheikh either. Dahar suffered under his rule.”

  She held his hands tighter, pressing down. Wanting to give him something, make it better for him. “And you’re fixing it. You’re healing what he broke.”

  Another pause, longer this time, his body taut behind hers. “Sometimes,” he said hoarsely, “I do not know if what I am doing is healing anything at all.”

  Lily closed her eyes. Pain in his voice. Doubt. Khalid may have left scars on his country, but the ones he’d left on his son ran far deeper and were far more painful.

  “You are, Isma’il. You are. The fact that I am here, negotiating with your tribes is testament to that. You could easily have sold the oil to anyone and forced them to agree. But you didn’t. You’re giving them a choice.”

  Slowly, the tension began to relax in the hard muscular body that lay against hers. “They may not choose Harkness, Habibti.”

  “I know. But if they don’t, I can live with that.” It was odd to realize that what had seemed so important to her before, suddenly seemed less so now. Part of wanting the contract had been wanting to prove herself as CEO. Prove her strength and her power. Prove she wasn’t vulnerable. She could see that so clearly now.

  Yet, it wasn’t the contract she needed to prove that. That strength and power had always been there. All she’d needed was Isma’il to help her find them.

  A more comfortable silence fell between them. The hands on her stomach began to move, lightly stroking her. She let him, her body beginning to wake into life again.

  “What does habibti mean?” she murmured, the breath leaving her body as his fingers stroked lower.

  “Darling,” he murmured. “It means darling.”

  “I’m not your darling, Isma’il.” Her breath caught as his fingers pushed down between her thighs.

  “You are, Lily.” He kissed her neck. “You are.”

  * * *

  When she opened her eyes next, it was to find the tent walls glowing with light and the other side of the bed empty. In fact the whole tent was empty. Isma’il wasn’t there.

  She sat up, holding the sheet around her.

  So, apparently she’d spent the night in Isma’il’s bed. It hadn’t been her intention. She’d thought she’d probably get back to her own tent at some point but really, there hadn’t been a moment. Not when they’d spent most of the night making love.

  Shivers of heat slipped over her skin at the memory and she shifted on the bed, restless and hot, a delicious soreness between her thighs. Lily smiled.

  Now, was probably not the time to be thinking about that though.

  Now was the time to start thinking about the fact that she was in the sheikh’s tent, naked, and she didn’t quite know what to do next. They hadn’t exactly held back the night before, which meant people would probably be aware of what had gone on between them.

  Last night, she’d been okay with that but now . . .

  Actually, now she was still okay with that. Maybe being with Isma’il would hurt Harkness’s bid for the contract. Yet, she found herself comfortable with the thought. What had happened between them had been too special for shame or denial. And she was done with being afraid of her sexuality and her femininity. She was free now. Isma’il had helped her discover the woman she truly was and there would be no going back.

  And speaking of . . . she frowned at the empty tent.
Where was Isma’il? And, more to the point, where were her clothes?

  Drawing the sheet around her, she slipped off the bed, scanning around for the tunic and trousers she’d worn the night before. There was no sign of them, but folded neatly on a nearby chair were another stack of clothes. Her clothes. A note sat on top of the pile.

  For you, Habibti. From your tent. Torn silk is hardly appropriate work-wear.

  Everything she needed was there. Underwear, shirt, trousers. A small, warm glow unfolded inside her. At least, she wouldn’t have to walk naked back to her tent.

  Dropping the sheet, she dressed, only to notice something else once she’d done so. On the low table near the entrance of the tent was a tray, breakfast laid out on it. Coffee, fruit, flat bread, cheese and a small pot of jam. She went over to it and found another note.

  I kept you up late last night. You’ll probably need sustenance.

  Lily smiled, the warm glow settling deeper inside her. Clothes. And now food. He was very thoughtful.

  She sat down on the cushion near the table, poured herself some coffee, and began putting some of the food on her plate.

  At that moment, the tent flap opened and Isma’il’s tall figure stepped inside.

  Lily’s heart gave a peculiar little leap. “Good morning,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I wondered where you’d got to.”

  “I had work to do.” He didn’t smile, the expression on his face unreadable. “You are required at the meeting tent, Ms. Harkness. The chiefs have made a decision.”

  Lily blinked. Both at the formality of her name after being ‘Lily’ for most of the night and at his news. “Already? But I thought you told me they’d take a few days?”

  “So did I. Apparently not.”

  She got to her feet, wanting to say something, wanting to have the closeness of the night before between them again. Yet, a strange sense of distance seemed to emanate from him.

  “Isma’il? What’s wrong?”

  But he was already turning away. “We will speak of that later. Right now, we need to hear what the chiefs have to say.” Then, he went back outside again, leaving Lily staring at the canvas.