CHALLENGED BY THE SHEIKH

by Kristi Gold

  Genie stared at him through the reflection, her green eyes sparkling. "I think you can get to me better if you'll come down on my level."

  She was most definitely getting to him. All of him, and the muslin material of his pajamas could do nothing to hide that evidence unless he did join her on the floor. But then she would most likely feel the effect she was having on him. Perhaps that was not such a bad idea. Tonight, he would only begin to demonstrate his passion for her, carefully. Slowly.

  Raf slid onto the floor, extended his legs alongside her legs and gathered more of the lotion into his palm. Bringing his arms around her, he applied the balm to the center of her chest beneath her slender throat, working his way down but only in small increments.

  From the mirror's reflection, he met Imogene's gaze and he saw desire in her languid eyes. Her lips parted, her chest rose with each breath she took, faster with every pass he made over the rise of her breasts. Her respiration seemed to stop altogether when he rested his lips against her neck, their gazes still connected in anticipation.

  "You are very beautiful," he told her as he palmed her breasts lightly through the satin.

  She murmured, "Thank you," but he saw hesitancy in her eyes. That hesitancy gave him pause. As stalwart as she had been since they'd met, the vulnerability in her expression endeared her to him in many ways. He understood all too well why she had hidden this side from him, for at times he had learned that was preferable. However, he did not know why she seemed insecure or who had been responsible. He only knew that he wanted to show her how much he appreciated her simple beauty. He wanted her to experience what he was feeling at the moment.

  Slowly, his mind cautioned his body. Savor her. Savor this.

  When Genie leaned her head back against his chest, he tilted her chin toward him and drew her into a kiss, exploring her warm mouth with his tongue while he continued to fondle her breasts through the gown.

  He could taste her need mingled with his own, sensed it in the way she circled his neck with one hand, pulling him closer, deeper into the heat of her mouth. In that instance, he craved being inside her as much as he'd craved his solitude.

  He broke the kiss to whisper, "Watch," again drawing her gaze to the reflection. Slowly he lowered the gown to bare her breasts to his eyes and hands. As he'd predicted, her nipples were a soft shade of coral and he wanted to know how they would feel in his mouth, against his tongue. Instead he gently rolled them between his fingertips while squeezing her thighs together with his thighs, knowing that if he touched her at the apex, he would find her hot and damp. But he would not do that tonight. He intended this to be only the prelude. By the time they made love, she would be totally on the edge, as would he. Then he would uncover the sensual facets of her being and have her willingly take all that he had to give, at least physically. All that he had held back for two years.

  In order to do that, he would have to leave her soon. Yet, at the moment, she looked so beautiful that he could not stand the thought of leaving her. But he must. If he did not, he most likely would remove her gown and make love to her in spite of his promise to proceed with caution and care.

  "I must go," he said as he came to his feet.

  Genie pulled the gown back into place and stood, her expression presenting confusion and the remnants of desire. "Where are you going?"

  "To bed. You should do the same. Otherwise you will be too tired for your lesson."

  Anger turned her eyes to fire. "You know something, Raf Shakir, you are nothing but a big tease."

  "I've told you we will take this slowly."

  "And I still have no say in the matter?"

  He reached out and cupped her jaw. "Do you not find the anticipation exciting? Do you not see that by waiting, when we finally do make love, it will be all that you've ever desired and more?"

  "You are so damned sure of yourself, aren't you?"

  "Are you not sure of yourself?"

  Her gaze faltered. "Most of the time."

  Lifting her chin, he forced her to look at him once more. "I have no doubt that you will be as proficient a lover as you are a businesswoman."

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence. I hope neither of us will be disappointed."

  He leaned over and brushed a kiss across her lips. "That will never happen."

  Her expression brightened. "You're right. I don't think I'll be disappointed at all, if you know what to do with this."

  Taking Raf by surprise, Genie ran a fingertip down the middle of his chest, down his abdomen and onto his erection that lurched beneath her touch.

  Before he changed his mind and hastened his plan, he pulled her hand away, kissed her palm and walked out the door. He would probably need more than a night to restore his control, and to analyze why he suddenly felt as if his life was about to change. Change was not always good even if at times inevitable. The last change he'd endured had nearly destroyed him.

  Logic told him to hold tightly to his emotions when he held Genie. Yet his grip seemed to be tenuous. He did not want to feel anything for her beyond fondness because she would eventually leave him, and he would not stop her no matter how much he cared for her.

  * * *

  Imogene generally dealt in logic, but this overwhelming need for Raf Shakir wasn't logical at all. Nor was his mood this afternoon after what had transpired between them last night. The same surly mood he'd displayed that morning during her lessons. He stood in the middle of the arena like a circus ringmaster, gratefully minus the whip. She rode on the dinky English saddle atop Maurice, her jaw clenched like a vise to keep the retorts at bay while he dealt out orders like a drill sergeant. More knee pressure! Straighten your frame! Grip the reins loosely! Make him answer your cues! Go to hell on a post-hole digger, was the one Imogene really wanted to hurl back.

  Today it seemed she could do absolutely nothing right in his eyes. But last night…

  She wondered if his sour disposition had anything to do with last night. Maybe he regretted what he'd done. Maybe he'd begun to reconsider. Maybe he'd sensed her insecurity about her own abilities in the lovemaking department. She most definitely wasn't a virgin, but her experience had been limited to Wayne. Wayne had been a considerate lover, if not that inspired. Those experiences would probably pale in comparison to what Raf intended for her. If he intended anything other than grilling her on her lousy horsemanship.

  As she walked the pen under his scrutiny, even when he looked as if he could spit fire, Imogene couldn't stop thinking about their interlude. Having him touch her in front of the mirror had been the most erotic experience of her life. And although it would be categorized as only minor petting, she had never, ever been so attuned to her sensuality. Nor had she ever wanted to make love so urgently. On the up side, he had promised her it would eventually happen between them, if he hadn't changed his mind. The suspense might literally kill her, if he didn't first.

  When her cell phone began to ring, Raf looked much more furious than frustrated. She tugged Maurice to a stop, reached beneath her shirt and withdrew the phone from the holder hooked to her waistband.

  "Danforth, why the hell didn't you call me back?"

  "I'm in the middle of a riding lesson, Sid. I'll call you back later."

  "This can't wait. I have to know when—"

  Imogene never heard the last of Sid's request because Raf yanked the phone from her grasp, told Sid in a stem voice, "Ms. Danforth is not to be disturbed," then snapped off the phone.

  Imogene finally closed her mouth. "Why did you do that?"

  "Are you serious about learning?" he asked, his eyes narrowed into a harsh glare.

  "That happened to be my boss. He wouldn't have called unless it was important." And that was the biggest tall tale she had ever told.

  "Again I ask, are you serious about learning."

  "I'm here, aren't I? I'm here and I'm enduring your irritable behavior and your commands and I haven't issued one complaint. Yet."

  "If what you say is true, then yo
u will not bring this again." He held up the phone. "Not if you want to be safe. You are fortunate the horse did not balk."

  Imogene looked down at Maurice with his snout practically resting in the dirt. Most likely, he was soundly sleeping. She patted his neck and he still didn't stir. Good God, did horses croak while standing up? Thankfully his ear twitched, proving he had not moved on to the horsey hereafter. "I can tell the phone really upset Maurice and roused him from his coma."

  Raf didn't seem to appreciate her sarcasm, evidenced by his scowl. "I have witnessed riders severely injured due to less distraction. You are still a novice."

  The severity of his tone made Imogene internally flinch. It also made her curious. "Someone you knew well?"

  "That does not matter."

  Oh, but it did matter to Imogene. From the troubled look in his eyes, she suspected this was personal experience talking. She saluted in hopes of lightening his mood. "Yes, Your Highness. Is there anything else you would like to chastise me about?"

  His demeanor was anything but light. "I told you to wear long sleeves, did I not?"

  She glanced at her bare arms. "Yes, but my skin is fine. The burn's already faded." Sort of, Imogene decided when she noted a deeper tinge of pink. So much for the ten reapplications of sunblock.

  "You are going to be in pain again tonight."

  She sent him a sunny smile. "That's why I have Doris's trusty sunburn solution. Maybe you could help me out again."

  "The lesson is over," he said, and left the pen.

  Imogene's heart sank to her boots when she realized he was regretting last night, and he probably had no intention of following through with his promise of lovemaking. She definitely had something to say about that.

  After climbing clumsily off Maurice, she tugged him behind her and into the barn where she found Raf mucking out the stall. He'd removed his shirt, affording Imogene a first-rate view of his jean-covered butt and bare back.

  She toed the sawdust with her boot and sneezed three times, figuring that would get his attention. When he didn't acknowledge her, she asked, "What do you want me to do with Maurice?"

  He continued to shovel the shavings, discarding the debris in the wheelbarrow with a vengeance. "Remove his bridle and put the halter on him. Then brush his coat. Blaylock will rinse him before he is put up for the night."

  That she could do. Maurice, cooperative as ever, just stood there while Imogene fumbled with the bridle and replaced it with the halter. Too bad his owner wasn't as compliant today. He would be, if she had any say-so in the matter, and she definitely would.

  After she had Maurice's coat displaying a nice sheen, Imogene tossed the brush into the grooming cart next to the stall and stood in the open doorway. "Could I have my phone back please?"

  He leaned the shovel against the wall, then finally faced her. "Why do you need it now?"

  Stubborn man. "Because it's mine."

  He raked her body with a long visual excursion, then hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. Imogene's gaze zipped to his front pocket where she saw the outline of her phone. At least she thought it was her phone. "You know, you could've put it on vibrate mode and had loads of fun if Sid called back, which he probably did. I'm sure he's royally ticked off at us both."

  "Your boss is not my concern."

  "That's easy for you to say. You don't work for him." She held out her open palm. "Now let me have it."

  "Come get it."

  A thick silence hung over the barn as they stared at each other like gunslingers confronting each other at high noon. Challenge called out from Raf's magnetic gray eyes, pulling Imogene forward to stand face-to-face with a solid, sweating male.

  She brushed her knuckles down his chest, reached for the phone in his pocket and withdrew it slowly. His jaw went taut and so did the six-pack of muscles in his belly. Then in a rush, he clasped her waist and backed her against the stall, bracing one hand next to her head but keeping his lower body angled away from her. "Do not wear that shirt again."

  "Would you prefer I rode topless?" She traced a path around his nipple with a finger. "Oh, but I guess you're concerned with my sun exposure, so that probably wouldn't do."

  "I am concerned with my ability to concentrate on your lesson. I cannot do that when you distract me."

  "How do I distract you?"

  "With your body." He emphasized his words by cupping her breast in one large palm. "With your mouth. Your eyes."

  "Are you suggesting I wear a trench coat, a blindfold and a gag?"

  "A regular blouse would suffice."

  Awareness finally dawned, and it made Imogene want to shout with victory. "Is that what had you in such a bad mood today? Was I distracting you?"

  He took her hand and held it against his erection. "What do you think?"

  She thought she was about to faint dead away, or melt onto the sawdust floor like a tub of butter. "That's not all my fault. You could've done something about this…" She pressed her palm against him. "Last night."

  "Last night would not have been the best time."

  She challenged him with a look, with a smooth stroke of her hand. "Then do something about it now."

  Imogene's fantasy from the first time they'd met—passion in the barn with a stranger, even though Raf was no longer a stranger. Yet she still didn't know what lurked behind the secrecy in his eyes or the troubles binding his heart. She did recognize that her previous imaginings could not do justice to Raf's sudden kiss. A kiss more spicy than sweet, more desperate than delicate. More than she could have hoped for.

  Masculine shouts in the distance, the occasional whinny, could not stop what was happening between them. Even Imogene's cautious side went the way of the breeze blowing into the barn and stirring up dust. The kiss, so deliciously hot and decadent, was beginning to stir up trouble. She couldn't deny that her body was giving her plenty of signals that if Raf commanded she remove her clothes and take what he had to offer right there, right now, she would gladly do it. She had no choice. Nature, not good sense, called to her now, even when Raf snaked his hand beneath her shirt and bra. This was no meeting of the minds. This was pure electricity, the preparation for pleasure.

  Raf showed no signs of stopping when he weighed her bare breast in his palm. He did show her signs of how he had been affected by this frenzied bout of foreplay by pressing harder against her. He continued his sultry assault on her mouth, using his tongue in the most wild and wicked ways to convey a message that wasn't totally lost on Imogene.

  Without giving her the opportunity to draw a breath, or to reconcile all the reasons why they really should stop, he skimmed one hand down her belly and yanked the hook at her waistband, then slowly slid down the zipper of her riding pants. She heard the rasp of his own fly and realized that in about ten seconds, it would be too late to stop this insanity. Better crazy and satisfied than sensible and unfulfilled, was Imogene's last thought before Raf worked his hand inside her breeches.

  "Do you want me to work the mare, Sheikh Shakir?" someone shouted.

  Imogene just wanted him to go away. Instead, Raf went away, taking all his magic when he pushed back from her.

  Imogene blinked twice as if that might restore her sense of reality. Raf had turned his back to her, his hands laced behind his neck as he stared up at the ceiling. "Yes," he called back to the unknown intruder while Imogene regrouped and readjusted her clothes.

  Raf wasn't as hasty in his refastening but finally did bring his hands from his nape to his fly. The sound of his rising zipper wasn't nearly as exciting to Imogene as it had been being lowered.

  She touched her fingertips to her lips, finding them tender and sensitive. Still, she would gladly endure more of that sweet, sweet torture for one more of Raf's kisses. But right now, he wouldn't even look at her.

  "I'll head back to the house now," she said. Back to analyze what had just happened and to pout over the interruption.

  "I believe that would be best."

  She walked past him
and he still didn't bother to face her. "Guess I'll see you later."

  "Perhaps at dinner."

  At least it was something. Imogene trudged back up the path with an oddly heavy heart, burdened by the fact that somehow this whole arrangement no longer had to do with business.

  She was growing far too fond of the stoic sheikh, and it wasn't just about the prospect of great sex, although she couldn't deny she wanted him. She admittedly wanted to know more about him, even if that meant crossing the boundaries between a little physical fun and emotional involvement.

  But something wasn't quite right with him. Something had him warring with their mutual attraction. She'd never been all that good at reading men, so she could be totally off base. But maybe, just maybe, she might find out a little more the next time they were alone. If they were ever alone again.

  * * *

  Five

  « ^ »

  Raf needed to be alone. He needed to find a place where he could reclaim his control. Bracing his hands on the wall, he lowered his head and closed his eyes. He could still taste Genie, could still smell her rose perfume on his body. He could still see her face and the need, the passion building between them. He had wanted to see that so badly, he had forgotten his promise to take it slowly. Had they not been interrupted, lie would have taken her instead.

  "She is ready now."

  Raf looked to the aisle to see Ali Kahmir standing in the doorway, the only worker who had been willing to accompany him to America. The rest had chosen to stay behind in Amythra due to Raf's inability to control his overwhelming anger following the tragic accident that had changed his life. After he had effectively driven his people away, he had vowed to keep his temper in check and had done so until this morning with Genie. She did not deserve the brunt of his frustration nor would she understand the root of his torment. Only he knew his own remorse and the cause. He would keep it that way. In order to do that, he must take time to restore order to his emotions.