The Sheikh's Captive American

by Leslie North

  "Ah, so many demands on your time. My grandson and I know that feeling well," Amal said.

  Tess thought she meant it as more than simple sympathy, but she couldn't quite grasp the underlying message.

  Tarek shifted on his feet, and Tess was suddenly hotly aware of him. She had to look up to see his face—awkward when sitting in a wheelchair. The man wasn't just tall—he was built. Unlike his grandmother, he had on Western clothes: khaki trousers and a shirt that fit as if made for him. The shirt outlined broad shoulders and a slim waist. The strong nose he'd inherited from his grandmother looked better on his face. His mouth pulled down slightly, and Tess found herself wishing he'd flash that smile of his again.

  Instead, he said, "You must rest. Heal. I will see that you have what you need for connections. We are not so backwards a country we are without the Internet and phones."

  He said the last with a small touch of humor that Tess found charming.

  Amal shook her head. "I did not want to worry you, Tarek, but the communications companies now speak of joining the strike."

  Eyes narrowing, Tarek turned to his grandmother. A knot formed in Tess's stomach. She wouldn't want him looking at her with that kind of sharp appraisal. "When did this happen, and how do you know about it before me?"

  "I only just heard. And you have been so busy today, no one cares to worry you." She smiled at Tess. "Our lines and towers need frequent maintenance, you know, because of the heat and harsh desert."

  Tess bit back her irritation and said, "When Phil's able to travel, I'm going to need to charter a plane."

  Tarek nodded. "When the time comes, I can put you in touch with a reliable company in Dubai I have used before. Communications strike or not."

  Tess massaged her temples, her headache blooming behind her eyes. If all else failed, she'd hire some camels. But not tonight.

  Tarek was at once beside her wheelchair, shooing the nurse away, taking control. "We must get you to some rest."

  And then he was rolling her down the hall, the whole rest of the entourage trailing after them and out to a set of black SUVs that waited at the curb. The heat hit her at once, even though the sun had set making her wilt in her wheelchair.

  Tarek swept her out of the chair and into his arms making her breath catch in her chest.

  She grabbed for his shoulders, got a handful of muscle and a scent that held a touch of cedar. He settled her into the back of the SUV as if she were made of glass. She wasn't sure if she was irritated at being treated that way or pleased about it. She stood six feet tall in heels, and she'd grown up working next to the roadies on her father’s concert tours. This—well, it was kind of nice. Tarek was giving orders. His grandmother climbed into another SUV, and Tarek slipped in next to her and took her hand.

  "It is not far," he said.

  She started to tell him she'd survived worse when it occurred to her this really was the worst thing that had ever happened, short of when her mother had walked out on the family.

  And then the scenery caught her.

  She stared out the window. Night had fallen, but the city blazed with high-rises and neon signs. It looked urban, but exotic, too, with most of the signs in lovely Arabic scripts. After a few turns, a park opened out in the center of the city. Campfires scented the air with wood smoke. Torches and lanterns cast dancing shadows over swaths of grass. A crowd had gathered, and they were singing, dancing, and sitting around the fires and in front of tents.

  "Is it a festival or something?"

  Tarek's mouth tightened. He offered up a curt, "No."

  He rubbed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. Tess didn't press him. Whatever was going on had nothing to do with her. Despite her earlier experience, she was glad when they left the city and the sky opened out in front of them.

  The moon hung huge and low, turning the sand to silver. Air conditioning dusted her face, but she could swear she could smell the heat baked into the land. The road narrowed and headed up a steep hillside, and then buildings rose in front of the SUV like something from the Arabian Nights.

  Bulbous domes gleamed white, lit by spotlights and the moon. Towers soared into the dark sky. Rows and rows of pointed arches seemed like a million entry points, but glass glittered behind them; windows and ornate plasterwork teased the eye, offering more details than anyone could take in. This wasn't just a palace—it was hundreds of years of history built into the mountain.

  "It's beautiful," she said, her voice hushed, for the sight deserved respect. "And…huge." She glanced at Tarek. He was staring out the window, his brow furrowed as if he couldn't see the beauty of the place where he lived.

  His voice sounded indifferent as he said, "In addition to the royal residence, it functions as the main government building. The royal family has quarters here, and Zahkim's archives are housed here as well. The gardens are open to the public on certain days, and the throne room is used for state occasions, but the harem has been closed for a few generations now."

  "Oh…of course." Harem? Tess's mind shifted to colorful tiles and pools of warm blue water…and naked women lounging everywhere. Her throat dried as she pictured herself there—and Tarek swooping down on her, catching her up in his arms as he had when he'd lifted her out of the wheelchair.

  She became aware of his stare on her, and she glanced at him. He didn't look away. For an instant, that tingle of awareness sparked between them—a tug of attraction she couldn't deny.

  She looked away first, to stare at the vast building in front of her with its towers. "Who are you, anyway?"

  Tarek let out a breath that sounded almost like a sigh. "I am Sheikh Tarek Rahim, ruler of Zahkim, Protector of the Faithful, and head of the royal family." He glanced at her. "King of Zahkim, if you prefer."

  Tess's mouth fell open. Tarek stared back at her, his expression unreadable, but one eyebrow rose almost as if he expected her to faint. Or something.

  She pulled herself together. She'd met the Queen of England, had performed for heads of state, and she was damn well not going to let this throw her.

  "Well, good. That means when Phil is on his feet, you can get us transportation to where I need to go. In the meantime, I'd still like that computer and a connection to the outside world."

  He gave a curt nod. "Of course. I do not go back on my word. And I think getting you on your way will be in both our interests."

  Chapter Four

  Both our interests? Sheikh Tarek almost sounded like he couldn't wait to get rid of her. Except he wasn't looking at her like that. Those amber eyes held a lot of heat and Tess couldn't help but respond. Sheikh or no sheikh, he was a man, and she knew interest when she saw it. She'd always been someone to follow her intuition, and right now it was telling her there'd been an instant connection between them.

  The car came to a stop. Someone opened the doors. The evening had cooled, but warmth still brushed her face. Tarek was out before she was and came around to help her from the SUV. She almost told him she could make it on her own, but her muscles protested a little too much at that idea. Tarek put a hand at the small of her back, and a tingle shot down her spine and settled low in her belly. Maybe the idea that a near-death experience kicked up the desire for life-affirming sex was true.

  She hardly noticed the inside of the palace—other than it was opulent and cool. Her focus kept going back to Tarek and the touch of his hand on her through the light fabric of her robe. The heat of his body and his enticing scent. His strong presence next to her, tall and solid. She almost wanted to lean in and rest her head on that broad chest of his.

  They headed up carpeted stairs, and then he was opening a door for her, flicking on lights, and she stepped into a suite that could rival any five-star hotel. She wasn't sure what she'd expected—the harem maybe—but not this huge room decorated in creams and soothing sea-greens. Marble floors and thick carpets with geometric designs hinted she was still in the Middle East, but the overstuffed chairs and sofas with a floral pattern, the mahogany wr
iting desk and the big screen TV would have been at home in a London flat. If they even fit. The room was huge.

  Tarek crossed the carpet and opened wide double doors. "You will find the bedroom through here, as well as an en suite bath. Should you need anything, the phone will connect you to the staff." He crossed the room again and pulled closed floor-length drapes over French doors. "You are welcome to request a tray to be brought up to you."

  She gave a small shiver and hugged her arms. Food wasn't high on her list right now.

  Tarek crossed to her side. "You are tired. Did Dr. Al Din give you anything for pain?"

  She shook her head and rubbed her neck. "I only have a headache left."

  His mouth crooked at the corner. "You are a terrible liar." Again, he swept her up in his arms.

  A shock ran through her, and she frowned at him. "This is getting to be a habit with you."

  Instead of answering—or putting her down—he carried her into the bedroom and settled her sitting upright on the king-size bed. Light streamed in from the sitting room, enough for her to see that the bedroom copied the sea-green color scheme. She started to rub her neck again, but Tarek pulled her hand away and put his own to work massaging her knotted muscles.

  She couldn't help it—closing her eyes, she let out a groan. "Oh, yeah. Right there."

  His beard brushed her cheek. "Lie back."

  Eyes opening, she stared at him. Those eyes of his really were amazing. Tawny like a lion's eyes, the pupils so huge right now she felt she could get lost in their depths. Heat flashed over her skin and left her breathing shallow. She'd never been the type to jump into bed with any man, but something about this guy was getting under her skin.

  She lay back, but Tarek rolled her onto her stomach and put those strong hands and fingers of his on her back.

  She gave another moan and muttered, "You missed your calling. You could make a fortune in a massage parlor."

  He gave a low laugh. "I already have a fortune."

  She hummed. Her tunic had bunched at her waist, and his fingers brushed her bare skin. That did it. She wanted him. She needed that soul-baring connection to someone living and vibrant. She hadn't died, and it was time to celebrate that.

  Rolling over, she sat up. Tarek didn't move from where he sat on the edge of her bed. She put a hand on his shoulder, on all that good muscle that had started draining the last fears and tension out of her.

  "Stay?" She made it a question. She was pretty sure you weren't supposed to order a sheikh around. "I don't want to be alone."

  His mouth quirked again, and he touched a finger to her cheek. "I will have a guard posted outside your room, and your maid will check on you every few hours."

  "Maid?" She scooted forward and touched her lips to his. "That's not what I want. Not what I need." He put his hand on her waist, and she let out a sigh. "I'm asking for sex." She licked her lips and tried to frame this in a way a guy would think was okay. "Just a good, hard fuck, and we both forget about it in the morning."

  That one dark eyebrow flew up again. "You think I could ever forget you, Tess Angel?"

  She smiled now and stroked his beard. It was softer than she'd thought it would be. "Okay, so we make this a moment outside of time. I…I really don't want to be alone. Phil almost died. I almost…if you hadn't been there, we…am I really still alive?"

  He put a finger to her lips. "I will show you how alive you are." He kissed her then. His mouth covered hers, and his tongue licked at her lips and she opened for him. God, how she wanted this. She wanted the feel of skin on skin. She needed to hear her heart pounding hard and to wrap herself around him and finish coming back to life. It really had been too damn close. The spark between them flared hotter. Her muscles gave a twinge as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders—he was so damn big. And then she wanted their clothes gone.

  Wiggling around, hating to break that searing kiss, she pushed the robe off her shoulders, got her tunic over her head and started working on his shirt. Damn buttons. He put his hands on hers and simply pulled at the fabric making the buttons go flying. She giggled.

  Pulling back, he shook his head. "This is funny now?"

  "Oh, the whole day's nearly hysterical. I'm having trouble processing I'm in a royal palace with a sheikh."

  He stood and unfastened his trousers. Tess watched, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Light from the sitting room showed off the broad chest and flat abs and turned his shoulders golden. She wanted her hands on him again, so she rolled up to her knees and put her palms on his chest. He had only a little hair low on his belly, arrowing down like a pointer to what she really wanted. He smiled and shucked off his shoes and pants, leaving himself bare-ass naked. "Are you not Hollywood royalty, Tess Angel? That would make you a princess in my world."

  "Right now, for the next few hours, I'm yours."

  With a growl, he put his hands over her breasts. "Be careful with your words—that could get you married in my country."

  "I don't want married. I want—"

  "A good, hard fuck." His words, that deep voice of his, had her nipples hardening. An ache bloomed deep inside. She nodded unable to talk right now.

  He pushed her back on the bed, dragged the loose trousers from her hips. Lifting one leg, he pulled the sandal from her foot and kissed her toes. She moaned. He did the same for the other foot and then put himself between her legs. For a moment, he cursed. She frowned a question at him, but he shook his head.

  Moving away from her, he headed into the bathroom. He had long legs and a smooth, tight ass, and the sight of it left her mouth dry.

  He came back, rolling a condom onto an impressive erection—he wasn't only long, he was thick, too. Tess's heart skipped a beat and settled into a fast staccato. "I like a man who's prepared."

  She lay back on the bed, legs spread wide. The scent of her arousal filled the room, elemental and undeniable. She was aching for him. She'd never wanted any man as much as she wanted him right now.

  Tarek knelt on the bed between her legs, his hands on her thighs, stroking her skin with his fingertips, which left her ready to grab him and drag him down to her. "Are you certain?"

  Tess nodded. The truth really was crashing down on her. "Every time I close my eyes, I think I hear metal tearing again. My head's still pounding. I want…I need to feel something good." She put a hand on his hard belly and trailed her fingers down to his even harder erection. "Please, follow your instincts. It's just sex."

  It's just us.

  She didn't say the words, but they were true. She knew it in her heart and in her bones. This guy was different. This guy was special. And she couldn't pass up the chance to be with him, even if they had lives on different continents and no possible future together. He seemed to understand.

  Leaning over her, he put his mouth on her nipple, swiped his tongue over the tip, then bit lightly and sucked hard. Tess threw her head back and her hips bucked on their own. Tarek sat up again, and she managed to grab hold of his strong thighs.

  "Please?" The word came out husky and needy, and she was close to begging now.

  Settling himself between her legs, he pushed in so slowly she almost took the leap to actually begging. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tried to drag him into her, but he held himself up and back.

  With a smile, he told her, "I will set the pace."

  She gave a growl. "What is it about ‘hard fuck’ don't you understand?"

  He gave a low laugh, which she felt rumble through her like thunder.

  And then he was moving, pushing into her. Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes and let the waves take her. He started slow, then faster and harder. He held himself up by his arms, so it was simply his cock pushing into her, his hips pressing her into the bed. She drew her legs up so he could push in deeper, and she gave a low hum at the new sensation.

  That seemed to set him off.

  His hips bucked again, and he pushed faster into her, his hips jerking now. Sweat slic
ked his skin and hers. Tess put her hands on his shoulders and dug her fingernails in.

  "Yeah." The word came out more like a moan.

  And then light exploded inside her, filling her with heat and leaving her body tingling. She seemed to be floating for an instant, but Tarek was still pounding into her, harder, stronger. She was coming apart for him. Her heart rate surged. She gave a cry, one of need and desire, and she so wanted his mouth on hers again, but she could barely breathe.

  With a low moan, he pushed even deeper and then froze, his body connected to hers and suspended over her. She dragged her eyes open to stare at him, at his muscles outlined by the light from the other room, at his angular features half shadowed now, at his eyes, closed so only the dark fringe of his eyelashes against his cheeks could be seen.

  He pushed in twice more, leaving her tingling and shooting small pulses of pleasure through her like fireworks. Then he let out a breath and rolled off her. She gave a sigh. She was wet—soaked. She would feel this tomorrow. Even without the aches and pains from the day, it had been a long time since she'd slept with anyone. Reaching out, she patted his chest. Sleep was already stealing in, weighing down her muscles, leaving her limp.

  "That was more than a good fuck…that was a great fuck."

  She got back a hum that could mean anything from agreement to disagreement, but right now she didn't care. He'd given her exactly what she'd wanted—he'd made her feel fully alive. She could sleep now and not dream of planes crashing. She'd dream of him instead.

  And when the morning came—well, she'd deal with that then.

  Chapter Five

  Tarek stirred sugar into his morning coffee. Last night had been a mistake.

  He had let his desire for Tess override his common sense. She had urged him to give into his instincts, and he had. He could kick himself for that now.