“Perhaps I should have thought the trade-off through more thoroughly,” he allowed.
“Damn straight,” she replied. “However, it’s not bad. I’ve never worn a designer anything in my life. I just… I’m so mad at my father. The last time I even saw him was my college graduation.” Ravi didn’t mention that was his last photo of her, that it was more than obvious, but instead let her continue. “He showed up so drunk that he thought it would somehow be a good idea to argue with my poli-sci professor, then try to punch him. But that’s Dad, always caught up in some scam or worse. But I never thought it would leave me a captive.”
“It’s not like that, exactly. You can go back to the States whenever you like. In fact, if you truly want to, I’ll let you go home tomorrow.”
Her eyes grew comically wide, like an owl’s. “Are you serious?”
“I said I didn’t like to force anyone. Dine well tonight, sleep on it, and then you can make your choices from there. You father can still have his freedom and his small gain.”
“Because Dad could and would trade me for money in a heartbeat.” She shook her head and sipped her tea. “I guess we can’t pick our parents, can we?”
He stilled at the thought of his late father, before pushing those less than pleasant memories away. Instead, he raised his cup to her and took a sip as well. “No, we can’t, but at least we can enjoy what we have here.”
“And what is there to enjoy, uh, Ravi?” she asked, her tone curious but not accusatory.
That was a start.
He grinned at her and stood from his chair. Sauntering over to her seat, he turned it toward the window so that she could the lapping waters of the Persian Gulf. It was one of the current wonders of the world, or at least, everyone agreed the Palms artificial islands and their accompanying view were engineering marvels.
“We’re in a land of desert heat and sand, and yet, you can see the gulf for miles. There are dozens of beautiful species swimming out there, reefs, and so much more. When the sun sets…well, if you leave,” he said, leaning low to whisper into her ear. “You’ll never see that view for yourself first hand, will you?”
She shivered just a bit, and he knew he’d captured her attention the way he wanted to. He paused to take her earlobe gently between his teeth and apply just the lightest of pressure. Ravi was rewarded with her sitting up straighter and the sight of goosebumps popping up across the delicate skin of her neck. “Oh, Ravi.”
“See, that’s my name, my swan. Don’t you want to stay? To see the world? This is one of the most beloved tourist destinations on Earth.”
“So, still second to Disneyworld?” she joked, and then hissed when he kissed her neck.
The soft creamy flesh there was so perfect, so unmarked. It drove him crazy in her father’s photos of her and now it was too much to refrain from, even with his promises to wait. He had to taste her, at least a little. She didn’t disappoint. While Bridget smelled of fresh freesia and lilacs, her taste was of apples, of sweetness, and summer. He loved it.
Then he sucked at her neck, gratified when he pulled back to find a hickey welling in the place he’d suckled. “You’re so lovely, my swan. One day, if you stay, you will be mine.”
Her posture went rigid, and she pushed away from the table. Too late, Ravi realized he’d pushed her further than her boundaries would allow, at least for tonight. She turned to him, those emerald eyes wide with panic. “I’m not feeling well. Maybe it’s jet lag. I need some time to collect myself.”
He stepped back but didn’t let her leave, instead opting to wrap one hand around her wrist and to look deeply into her eyes. “Bridget, my swan, I know you can feel what’s happening between us. I can see how you shiver at my touch. Just let it happen.”
Her eyes grew large and limpid as shiny tears welled up. “I can’t,” she replied, before storming out of the dining hall before the main dish could even arrive.
Chapter Five
What the hell am I thinking?
Her mind was reeling. She felt like a kid’s toy motor that just kept whirring and spinning without ever going anywhere. This was nuts. It made no sense. She wasn’t angry with Ravi—correction, Sheikh Shamon—like she was at the good-for-nothing-asshole that was her father, but she wasn’t about to fall into bed with him either.
Except now, she was panting from the very touch of him; she could still feel his lips on her ears and smell the exotic scent of his masculine musk mixed with something that smelled vaguely of cinnamon. Her belly was flaring with warmth and a wetness was threatening to pool between her legs. Her heart thudded even harder than it had when she first awoke in Dubai.
Storming into her room, she was relieved that no servants were in. A few guards were stationed at either end of the hallway, but if Sabella had been there, Bridget would have lost her mind and her manners. The other woman could have Sheikh Shamon for all Bridget cared. Really. She didn’t want him. She wanted to be home, back at her crappy eleven-dollar-an-hour job and her empty life with too many Ben and Jerry’s cartons in the freezer, especially after she’d been cheated on. It was nothing compared to the sheikh’s lap of luxury, but it was hers.
“This is nuts,” she said out loud to herself as she carefully pulled off her dress and locked her door behind her. It was already shut, but there was no point in running the risk that someone would sneak up on her. Reaching for her bra, she pulled that off as well and then headed for the dresser. There had to be more underwear, and hopefully pajamas around here somewhere. “I can’t be attracted to him! He talks a good game, but he still kidnapped me. Sane people don’t do that. I…”
Then she remembered the way he made her feel, the heat of his breath on her ear, the force of his lips as he sucked hard on her skin, the strength of his hands on her shoulders. When she first saw him upon arriving at his mansion, he’d been the most striking man she’d ever seen. From his all-consuming jade eyes to his broad shoulders and towering physique, Kevin looked like cheap canned dog food next to him. Hell, Brad Pitt in his prime looked like dog food next to Sheikh Shamon.
Almost unbidden, her fingers found their way to her nipples. Maybe she could just indulge her desires this once. It didn’t hurt to fantasize, did it? No one would ever know, and tomorrow she could lie to herself. She would go back to the life she knew, be the dependable, boring, good girl she’d always been—the perfect contrast to her father’s lunacy. But tonight, just for a few quiet moments, Bridget could pretend she was Sheikh Shamon’s.
Walking to the bed, she pulled back the covers and sheets and then set the pillows where she preferred. Then she made sure to slip out of her panties so that she was as naked as the day she’d been born. Sliding onto the bed, she propped her body up on the pillows and let her fingers explore. To her, in her wildest fantasies, these were the large hands of Sheikh Shamon. No, Ravi’s. It was Ravi’s hands running over her breasts and tweaking her nipples ever so slightly.
It didn’t take long to raise both of them to pebbled peaks as the warmth in her belly spread to her core. Wetness flowed from between her legs, and she felt she was more ready for a man who wasn’t even there than she’d ever been for her scant, previous lovers. Closing her eyes, she imagined what it would feel like, the heft of him leaning over her as he worshipped her soft mounds with his fingers and his mouth.
But it still wasn’t enough. While her right finger and thumb teased one nipple between them, she traced her left hand over the rest of her torso. Her fingers dipped slowly a few times in and out of her belly button, and she arched her hips as heat started to consume her, like flames licking at her limbs.
Then she reached her mons, that triangle of skin at the apex of her thighs. Running her hands through her soft, well-kept curls, she brought her hand lower until it found her folds. They were slick and ready for her touch, so she obliged, not playing or delaying gratification any longer. She used her thumb to put pressure on her pearl, while she eased two fingers in and out of her channel.
But in her heart of hearts, she wished that it was Ravi doing it. She could imagine his length deep inside of her, his fingers playing with her areola, his thumb pressed tightly against her nub of nerves. The heat was rising now, like standing too close to a roaring camp fire, and she arched her hips again. She needed to climax, needed it more in that moment than she needed even air. Thrusting her hand inside of her, she bit her lip to keep from screaming, to keep anyone from possibly overhearing as the fire flared through her as severe and intense as a scorching forest blaze.
The rhythm intensified as she plunged in and out. In and out.
Her rose bud pulsed against her thumb. Finally, she pressed just right against her sensitive nerves and then came with a flurry of heat and light and fire, her body aflame, even as she imagined that hint of cinnamon wafting through her nose, that flash of jade eyes watching her.
When she fell back completely boneless to the mattress, Bridget took long gulps of air and tried to steady herself.
I want him, but I can’t… He stole me from my home.
Yet, how much better would it feel with Ravi inside of her, with his devilish tongue whispering sweet nothings in her ear?
She didn’t know, but she was starting to desperately want to find out.
***
Ravi knocked on the door the next day bright and early. She groaned and looked over at the clock by her bed, which still read only seven o clock. Considering her shock, her jet lag, and then the exhaustion that sprang from her best orgasm of her life, Bridget was still pulling herself together.
“Wow, he must be eager to get on with it,” she said, slipping out of bed and rushing to her dresser for anything at all. It resulted in her putting on a pair of jeans and the first available t-shirt inside, a fact that Ravi was more than happy to share with her.
“That’s an interesting look,” he mused, smirking at her with a look but so delicious and infuriating that it should be illegal in most sovereign nations.
She reminded herself that no matter how strong her attraction was to him, no matter how he called to her and set her blood boiling, she needed to ask to go home; back to her life as a normal person.
“Well, I don’t have a royal stylist, but I manage,” she said.
“Well, I’ll send one of the older female servants around here to help you pick out what’s appropriate for today’s activity. Denim will never do.”
She frowned. “First of all, you said I could go home if I wanted tomorrow.”
“Yes, but I didn’t say what time tomorrow.”
“Second, no more Sabella for me?” she asked, feeling her heart pump wildly. Bridget wasn’t even sure what she wanted. Part of her desperately wanted out of this craziness. Her instincts screamed at her that anyone who was even tangentially connected to her father was a bad person and that associating with him would eventually lead to even bigger problems, and heartbreak. At the same time, Ravi had been nothing but generous with her, and could she really turn down a chance to feel the real thing after literally panting after it last night? “Sid something happen?” she asked, struggling to keep her mind on the events of the day stretching out before her.
“Sabella had some cross words with me this morning, and she doesn’t seem to always remember her place. Besides, I think you’ll feel better today with someone who doesn’t carry such sharp barbs.”
“True, but you said I could leave today.”
“I said if you really wanted to, then you were allowed to go home today, yes. I didn’t say what part of today I meant. My swan, I’m going to show you Dubai as few ever can see it. Allow me to do that one thing for you. Think of it as something for your troubles.”
She snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “For you kidnapping me.”
“An unfortunate glitch in my usual decorum and tact, I admit,” Ravi said, his smirk widening. God, did she want to lick at him and his delectable dimples. “Besides, you will have to learn sooner or later that no one argues with a sheikh. Kamala will be here shortly, so get dressed and don’t argue. The limo leaves in thirty minutes.”
He was gone before she could fully process everything.
Wait, limo?
***
Her imagination shouldn’t have been so narrow. Riding in a limo for her first time wasn’t anything compared to the form of transportation she was currently enjoying. And, yes, she was enjoying it, even though she never thought she could. It wasn’t like she’d ever been on a boat like this before. Her mom had taken her on a few Baltimore Inner Harbor rides, but that stopped over sixteen years ago with her mother’s death. Even though she grew up in one of the biggest boating capitals on the planet, she still saw it as a sport for the rich. Boats were beyond her. A luxury yacht with its own live-in crew and large enough to have its own zip code was a seemed like a possibility that was a galaxy away.
Yet here she was, sitting on the deck in a plush banquet and watching the cobalt blue waters of the Persian Gulf whip past her. It was like a dream.
She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t; that this should be a nightmare under any other circumstances. That this was something from Investigation Discovery. It merited its own cheesy headline, something salacious to move copies of The Sun, like “I was a Sheikh’s Love Slave.” Except Ravi had been a perfect gentleman for the last two hours. In fact, he mostly kept with the captain in the motor room. She hadn’t even seen him this past hour, and been left to have the morning to herself to watch the sun’s rays play against the ocean waters and to sip on her mimosa.
Maybe I need to stop thinking about how I got here and Dad’s hand in this and just enjoyed it.
Didn’t that make some sense? After all, she was still reeling from Kevin’s betrayal and floundering for some purpose in life. Who was to say that she couldn’t enjoy a few more days or weeks with Sheikh Ravi Shamon? It made almost as much sense as the idea that her destiny was to grab a mop whenever some kid at her pediatrician’s office vomited with the stomach flu. Actually, she thought, smiling as she watched the fin of a whale poke out from the waves, it was far better.
“You’re thinking,” Ravi said as he came out to see her finally. “That could be either a good thing or a bad thing.”
She grinned and slipped off her sunglasses. “How do you figure?”
“Well, that either means you’re meditating and have found some inner peace or that you’ve been brooding this whole time.”
“If I were brooding, I wouldn’t be scarfing this many mimosas.”
“How many have you had?” he asked, a genuine frown springing to his features as he reached into the cooler beside her. “It’s easy to become dehydrated at sea.”
“I’ve had maybe three? It’s hard to keep track,” she said, hiccuping a little despite herself. “They’re pretty awesome! Also, they have juice, so I’ll be fine!”
He pulled the drink from her hand and then set it on the table by the banquet. “Let’s start with some serious hydration. We’re pulling up to a small island one of The World private islands.”
She giggled again, finding that revelation completely like Ravi and just as ostentatious as everything else about him. “Do you have your own island?”
“I own controlling stock in the project, actually. Would you like to sunbathe with me? If I’m returning you back to a dreary Mid-Atlantic winter, the least I can do is get you a bit of sun first.” He hesitated after that for only an instant. “Of course, you can stay here with plenty of water if you prefer.”
She shook her head and regretted that immediately. Her vision spun and she fell back deeper into the cushions of her seat. “Whoa, okay bad idea.”
He reached up and swept her into his arms. He smelled of cinnamon, but also of the sweet scent of sun tan lotion, though with his complexion, Bridget had to assume he only applied the bare minimum. She was going to need buckets to keep her Irish skin from frying to a crisp, especially in the Arabian sun.
“My swan, let me get you to the beach and one of the
servants will bring the water and towels. I think some sun and hydration, anything away from the drinks will do you a world of good.”
“Says you,” she said, giggling again, and leaning against him as he helped her to the edge of the boat. “You smell nice, like an Altoid.”
He laughed as he walked with her across the plank to the shore. “Well, Ms. Callahan, I can honestly say that that’s a compliment no one has ever given me before.”
“Someone should have. You smell amazing! Like cinnamon! It makes my nose tickle like crazy.” She quirked her head up at him as the most insane thoughts raced through her head. Maybe she shouldn’t have lost track of her mimosas after all. “Do you taste like cinnamon too?”
He paused in the sand as if she’d suggested something crazier, like if his erection also tasted like candy. Although maybe that wouldn’t be the worst question to ask next, come to think of it. “Are you serious?”
She hiccuped again. “I don’t know what I’m saying, but you smell so nice. You have so far. I think that’s sexy!”
He shook his head and handed her a bottle of water. “You’re going to need so much more of this, my swan.”
“But it’s not as fun as mimosas.”
“When you don’t pass out from heat stroke, you’ll thank me.”
“Possibly,” she said, sipping her water and pouting that she wasn’t tasting his cinnamon lips.
Just as Ravi promised, a few servants followed them to a perfect location on the beach of the private island. One man in head scarves set down an umbrella, while another man went to work making sure the cooler was within reach and fully stocked with water and sandwiches from the boat. A slight woman with her hair in braids was making sure that the towels were laid out before them on the sand. Once they were done, however, the servants didn’t stay, didn’t even say a word. They just gave a quick bow to Ravi before returning to the boat.
Bridget shrugged. “They could have stayed if they wanted.”
“I wanted some time alone with you,” Ravi confessed, kicking off his sandals and slipping off his own white cotton shirt.
Sheikh's Virgin Love-Slave Page 3
