Fit for a Sheikh

by Kristi Gold

  Later, he decided. When they were in a bed and he could maneuver better. Where he could give every bit of himself, as much as she was willing to take. All that he could offer physically since he could offer nothing emotionally.

  Yet when she looked up at him with satisfaction and smiled, he felt something tug deep inside him, an odd longing and unwelcome emotion. He pushed it away as he readjusted her clothing.

  “Wow,” she said, still smiling.

  “That is only the beginning.”

  “A really great start.” She brought his head down and kissed him again, quick and hard. “Now what do you have planned for me next?”

  He leaned over and whispered his plan in her ear, a common word in English that left no need for interpretation.

  Her eyes went wide. “Well, that’s one way to put it. A little crude, but you won’t get any argument from me.”

  “The word is not important,” he told her. “It is how well you interpret the word.”

  “How well do you do that, Scorpio?”

  “Take me to your home and I will show you.”

  “What about Birkenfeld?”

  “I will find him. Tomorrow.”

  * * *

  From a car parked two spaces away, he watched the pair, furious to find that he hadn’t mortally wounded Shakir after all, yet satisfied to know he had discovered the man’s Achilles’ heel—a woman. No surprise to Roman Birkenfeld. Women were responsible for most of the ills of the world.

  He craned his neck to get a better view of the car illuminated by an overhead guard light. Although Shakir was vulnerable at the moment, he didn’t trust that the tracker wouldn’t be quick on the draw even with his girlfriend in his lap doing who knew what to him. Even if he couldn’t exactly see what was going on, he did know they sure as hell weren’t talking after that little display of groping he’d witnessed a few moments before. He did imagine what they were doing, in great detail, and that fed his fury, his own lust.

  He really couldn’t blame the bastard for wanting the redhead. She had the kind of body he wouldn’t mind exploring himself, and maybe he would do that in the near future, payment for her tackling him in the alley and nearly getting him killed.

  But he had more important things to consider aside from base urges, namely how to rid himself of the man who was determined to hunt him down like common prey. However, he would be forced to wait to exact his revenge. Wait until the time was right. Until he had the opportunity to dole out the punishment Shakir deserved. In the meantime he had to obtain the funds to get out of Vegas. Out of the country.

  Right now he only had a knife and a stolen car in his possession and not nearly enough money…yet. But he would change his fortune and soon. He’d find some gullible woman to satisfy him in every way. Some rich bitch he could con. Vegas was full of them, and he knew just where to look.

  And eventually he would punish Shakir. That wouldn’t begin to even the score, but it would be enough for now. It had to be enough. He would kill the redhead, too, after he was done with her. While Shakir watched. Then he would kill the Arab, slowly and painfully.

  For the first time in weeks, Roman Birkenfeld smiled.

  * * *

  Darin nudged Fiona inside the apartment, turned her around and pinned her against the closed door, then proceeded to kiss her. As badly as Fiona wanted him, wanted this, she pressed her palms against his chest and shoved him backward, nearly toppling him over due to his bad leg.

  She raked her hair away from her face and fought to control her breathing around the suffocating feelings and mortification over what she’d just done. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  He streaked a hand over his nape. “If you’ve changed your mind, you need only tell me.”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t changed my mind. It’s just that…”

  As she searched for the right words, he studied her with his dark, compelling eyes. “What is it, Fiona?”

  “Promise you won’t think I’m a coward?”

  “I would have a difficult time believing that of you.”

  She worked her bottom lip between her teeth, once, twice. “I’m claustrophobic. I don’t like feeling trapped or being held down. That’s why I fought so hard that night Birkenfeld had me on the ground in the alley. I was more afraid of suffocating than getting stabbed.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  This was going to sound so dumb, but Fiona figured he deserved an explanation. “When I was little, I was at my aunt Dina’s house in Texas.” Because her mother had taken off cross-country for the summer with a trucker, a detail she decided to leave out. “I was playing with my cousin, Howie, in the storm cellar. Howie thought it would be amusing to lock me in.” The memories came back, scary memories of dank darkness. Her mother’s sudden departure. The only time in her life she’d felt truly alone, until recently. “They didn’t find me for several hours.”

  “You should have told me sooner.”

  “I’m telling you now. It’s something I’ve tried to overcome but I haven’t been able to so far. I know that makes me sound like such a wimp but—”

  “I would never make light of a woman’s fear.”

  Finally she looked at him, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. “Thank you. Since you don’t seem to be afraid of anything, I wasn’t sure you’d understand.”

  “Everyone has fears.”

  Fiona waited for a long moment, thinking Scorpio might actually be ready to lower his guard. When he didn’t speak, she asked, “What are you afraid of?”

  He looked away. “I am afraid that my physical injuries might prevent me from doing our lovemaking justice.”

  “Somehow I don’t think you’re going to have any problem with that.”

  He smiled, a soft one that only enhanced the sheer beauty of his face. “Then you have not changed your mind?”

  “No, as long as you understand how I feel about being held down.”

  He clasped her shoulders and turned her around, claiming the place where she had been, his back against the door, the equivalent of a gentleman laying his coat over a puddle for his lady fair, Fiona decided. Beneath that iron exterior of this breathtaking man lurked a true white knight, despite his dark clothing and eyes.

  He pulled her closer but kept his hands loosely gripped around her waist. “Is this better for you?”

  “Yes. Much better.” They really didn’t have to stand against the door. She had a nice bedroom with a comfy—albeit aged—double bed. But Fiona felt so safe, so secure in his arms, she really didn’t care where they were at the moment.

  Leaning into him, she braced her palms against his solid chest and he framed her face in his large hands. “I will relinquish all control to you, if that will make you feel more comfortable.”

  “Well now, that’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

  Cupping her breast, he thumbed her nipple. “Anything that I do that does not feel right to you, you may refuse. Anything you want, I’ll see that you have it.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh, yes. “First, I want to feel your hands on my bare skin.”

  Without hesitating, Scorpio yanked her shirt from the skirt’s waistband, pulled it over her head, unfastened her bra and worked it away. He paused to trace a fingertip down the cleft of her breasts.

  Fiona watched his movements, suddenly embarrassed over what he was seeing. Her freckles. “My dad used to say that I got those from swallowing a quarter and breaking out in pennies.” Dumb, Fiona. Really, dumb.

  He visually followed the path of his fingertip drawing circles around her nipples, first one, then the other. “I find them fascinating. I find you fascinating.”

  Overcome with a boldness she didn’t know she possessed, Fiona pushed her pelvis against him, reveling in the fact he so was aroused. “Now take off your shirt.”

  After removing his jacket and the holster, he yanked off his tee in one smooth move, leaving his hair sensually stirred an
d revealing the planes of his wonderful chest. Fiona slid her palms across his collarbone, then grazed her hands down his sides, over his rib cage and back up again, streaking her thumbs across his nipples as he had hers. His skin was so hot and damp, almost unnaturally so. But then he was one hot guy.

  Determined to continue, she brought her hands together in the middle of his bar-flat belly and paused where the stream of dark hair began below his navel.

  Scorpio laid his palm over hers and pushed her right hand slowly down to his erection, holding it there. “Do you want this?” he asked in a rough whisper.

  Fiona shivered. “I’ve wanted that all night.”

  “Then it is yours to take,” he said, drawing her mouth to his in a high-impact kiss, a joining of lips, of tongues, of pure, hot pleasure.

  He fondled her breast with one hand and slid the skirt’s back zipper down with the other. Fiona shimmied her hips until the garment fell at her feet in a pool of leather. Now all she wore was a pair of black panties and a full-body flush.

  Scorpio broke the kiss to look her up and down while he lowered his own zipper and freed himself for Fiona’s pleasure. And what undeniable pleasure it was, she thought as she stroked her finger up and down the length of him, eliciting Scorpio’s groan before he whispered, “Your bed. Now.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Fiona grabbed his hand and led him into her room, where Lottie had taken up residence in the middle of the pillows.

  She pointed at the floor and said, “Down.”

  Scorpio came up behind her and circled his arms around her, radiating enough heat to fuel a volcano. “Do you want me on my hands and knees?”

  She smiled back at him. “Not you, the dog. I’ll put her in the kitchen.”

  Reluctantly leaving Scorpio’s embrace, Fiona tugged the hound out of the room while muttering, “He’s mine, girlfriend. Besides, you’ve been fixed.” Once in the kitchen, she patted Lottie’s head and gave her a treat. “Be a good girl. You’ve got plenty of food and water. I’ll be back when I can.” Hopefully not until morning, or at least after she got her fill of Scorpio.

  Fiona walked back to the bedroom, arms folded across her bare breasts and pulled up short inside the door. Scorpio was stretched out on his back with his head bolstered by all three pillows, completely naked as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He did have one heck of an erection, and Fiona had one heck of a case of the shakes.

  Then she remembered something very important. “Scorpio, do you have anything…you know…condoms?”

  “No. I had no reason to believe I would need any on this trip.”

  Fiona hadn’t needed them for five years. “I don’t have any, either. Maybe I should go to the store.”

  Scorpio sat up and braced his arms on bent knees, his head lowered. “I will go with you.”

  Somehow, having him put his clothes back on put a damper on the evening. But she wasn’t stupid enough to let things progress without protection against pregnancy. And she wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of traipsing to an all-night convenience store to buy a box knowing everyone would guess what was about to occur. If only she knew someone who might—“Wait. I have another idea.” She grabbed for her robe and shrugged it on. “Let me make a call.”

  He glanced up at her. “You know of some place that delivers prophylactics?”

  She laughed. “No, but that could be a very lucrative venture. ‘Condoms on the Fly.”’

  Scorpio didn’t look that amused. In fact, he didn’t look all that well. “Then who are you calling?”

  “My neighbor. Peg, the one that took care of your cuts. It will only take a minute.”

  He dropped back on the bed and ran his hand down his belly, pausing immediately below his navel, sending shivers skittering up Fiona’s spine. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Fiona sprinted into the living room and took a seat on the sofa to dial Peg’s number. After Peg delivered a sleepy, “Hello.” Fiona said, “I need your help again.”

  Peg grumbled. “Don’t tell me, your naked friend, Frank, got into another brawl.”

  “He’s naked, but he hasn’t been in a fight. Do you have any condoms?”

  “What do you think I am, a midnight pharmacy? Besides, I haven’t needed those things in years.”

  “Okay, I was just hoping that—”

  “Wait a minute. I might be able to help. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting pregnant or heaven only knows what else.”

  “I would be so grateful.”

  “And I’m sure so would your friend, Frank. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  A short time later, Peg joined Fiona on the doorstep holding another brown bag. “I have these left over from a bachelorette party I had for a nurse at work.”

  After reaching into the bag, Fiona withdrew two foil packets and held them up to the porch light. “‘Commando Condoms’? ‘Ribbed for her ultimate pleasure’?”

  Peg looked mighty proud, and sleepy. “Yep. One’s labeled Gargantuan Green, the other Promiscuous Pink. Sex in vivid color. I had some regular ones, but I didn’t bring them since they were hanging on a tree.”

  “A tree?”

  “Actually, more like a few twigs in a red clay pot. We made a rubber tree for the centerpiece.”

  Leave it to Peg. “Not a great idea to use condoms impaled on a tree.”

  “Exactly. These should do until you can buy some more in the morning.”

  Fiona hoped that Scorpio wanted to do it twice. First, they had to do it once.

  She dropped the packages back in the bag and groaned. “I guess they’ll have to do, but I can’t even imagine Scorpio wearing a pink condom.”

  “I thought his name was Frank.” Peg’s eyes went wild and wide. “You mean you have a different guy in there? Way to go, Fiona!”

  “No, it’s still Frank. Scorpio’s his last name.”

  “Who cares what his name is or the color of condoms? Just get in there and make enough noise so I can hear you two doors down. Maybe that will wake up Walt.”

  A hot blush crept up Fiona’s neck and settled on her face. “I guess that’s the least I can do to show my undying gratitude.”

  Peg headed away on her furry slippers and said over one shoulder, “You can thank me later with the details.”

  After closing the door behind her, Fiona went back into the bedroom to find Scorpio still reclining on the bed, only this time he was covered to his chin with a blanket, his eyes shut tight.

  She tossed the bag onto the nightstand, perched on the mattress at his side and laid a hand on his forehead covered by perspiration.

  “You’re burning up,” she said without bothering to hide her concern.

  He opened his eyes, which looked glazed. “A direct result of your charms.”

  “You have a fever. You’re shaking and you’re pale. That has nothing to do with my charms.” She stood and pointed at him. “Stay here. I’m calling Peg again.”

  He tried to sit but gave up after a single try. “That’s not necessary. I only need to rest for an hour or so, then I will be fine.”

  “You’re going to rest, all right. And I’m going to call Peg.”

  Pivoting on her heels, Fiona walked back into the living room and grabbed up the phone. Peg answered, sounding more than a little disgruntled.

  “Peg, I—”

  “Oh, good grief, Fiona! What is it now? Do I have to come over there and show you how to use them?”

  “No, it’s not that. Scorpio, he’s got a fever.”

  “What’s his temp?”

  “I don’t know. Lottie chewed up my digital thermometer when I left it out after I had the flu this past winter. I haven’t replaced it yet. But he’s very hot to the touch.”

  “Are you giving him the antibiotics?”

  “Yes. Just like you prescribed.”

  “Have you checked the wound site?”

  “Not tonight, but I can do that now.”

  Fiona walked back into the room, lif
ted the covers quietly so as not to disturb Scorpio, who appeared to be sleeping. “His thigh looks fine,” she whispered.

  “No joke, but what about the cut on his thigh?”

  “I meant the cut,” Fiona hissed, rousing Scorpio.

  “And his ankle?” Peg asked.

  “Just a sec.” Fiona told him to turn over, which he did without even a muttered protest. She removed the wrap but left the bandage intact. “It’s really red with streaks going up the back of his leg.”

  “Nothing nasty oozing from it?”

  “Not that I can tell.”

  Peg sighed. “Fiona, he probably has the beginnings of an infection and the antibiotics I gave you might not be strong enough. Take him to the hospital.”

  “No hospitals,” Scorpio said. “No doctors.”

  “You heard him, Peg.”

  “Yeah, I did. And it’s just like a man. Give him some kind of analgesic for the fever and get him into the clinic first thing in the morning. We’ll work him in. If he gets worse during the night, take him to the emergency room.”

  Fiona moved away from the bed, out of Scorpio’s earshot. “I’m not sure he’ll agree to go to the E. R. or the clinic.”

  “He better, otherwise he’s only going to get worse. And if he’s lucky, he’ll be able to keep his foot. That is, if he doesn’t die first.”

  Fiona shuddered at the thought. “Okay, I’ll try to convince him.”

  “I’m sure you have your ways. I’ve never known a fever to stop a man—”

  “I know, Peg. Thanks again for your help.”

  After Peg hung up, Fiona strode back into the bedroom to find Scorpio on his side, facing the window. She went into the bathroom, dressed in her plain cotton nightgown and returned with a glass of water and two aspirin. She sat on the edge of the bed and told him, “You need to take these pills.”