The B4 Leg

by Various

  ‘If you run, I’ll just bring you back.’

  She looked at him then and was trapped by his devastating smile and the unmistakable look of raw sexual intent in his eyes. Her body melted with a desire so intense that it was impossible to breathe. He was unreasonably, unfairly gorgeous. ‘I’m not your prisoner.’

  ‘No.’ He retrieved the knife from the folds of the robe. ‘You’re an aggravating, feisty, defiant woman. And I find that unbelievably erotic.’ There was an elemental primitive strength about him that made her shiver and Bella was suddenly acutely conscious that she’d never dealt with anyone like him before in her life.

  Wary, Bella eyed the knife. ‘What’s that for? Are you planning to threaten me into submission?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he purred softly. ‘When I take you a second time, you won’t be fighting me any more than you did the first time.’

  Bella’s heart was pounding and her mouth was dry. ‘My brain is back in working order now. And this whole Neanderthal caveman routine doesn’t really do anything for me. I like a man who can hold a conversation.’

  ‘And I like a woman who knows when to remain silent.’ He dropped the dagger onto the ground. ‘I’ve watched you since the moment you arrived. And I was still watching you when you were writhing underneath me. It was a very satisfying sight.’

  Squirming at being reminded of how easily she’d succumbed to him, Bella lifted her chin. ‘That was all an act to protect your ego.’ She tried to scramble to her feet but Zafiq gave a half-smile, caught her round the waist and dropped her back on the mattress.

  ‘You are talking because you are nervous, and that is good because it shows that you are vulnerable. But you don’t need to be afraid.’ His expression thoughtful, he sat down next to her, every muscular curve of his bronzed torso so breathtakingly perfect that Bella found it almost impossibly distracting.

  ‘I’m not afraid…I’m—’ His mouth silenced the rest of her sentence and she felt her head swim, but she was determined not to make a sound. He already thought he was a god; there was no need to feed his ego by letting him know he was an exceptionally good kisser. Ignoring the rush of heat that swept through her body she pulled away and tried to look bored.

  ‘Sorry, was I supposed to feel something?’ But the husky note of her voice betrayed her and he gave a slow, masculine smile, closed his hands over her shoulders and pushed her back against the mattress.

  ‘Are you ever honest about your feelings?’

  No, Bella thought helplessly, thinking of the number of times she’d been hurt in her life. Never. ‘I don’t have feelings,’ she whispered, and he lowered his head, his lips brushing against hers. Their eyes held, the connection between them pulsing, intimate and deliciously exciting.

  The heat in the tent went from oppressive to stifling and Bella sucked in a breath as his thigh brushed against hers and his breath mingled with hers. ‘Last time we took things too fast. This time will be different. This time we will drive each other crazy.’ His burning gaze slid slowly down to her mouth, and then to her throat and finally to her breasts. Bella moaned as she felt her nipples harden against the flimsy fabric.

  ‘Stop looking at me like that.’ But her words lacked conviction because she didn’t want him to stop looking at her. She loved the way he was looking at her.

  Not as if she was Bella Balfour, party girl, but as if she was an incredibly desirable woman.

  ‘If you didn’t want me to look, you shouldn’t have made yourself an object of interest,’ he drawled, the deliberate movement of his hand sending another spasm of sensation arcing through her body.

  Bella sucked in a breath. ‘Take your hands off me.’

  ‘Fine. No hands.’ With a devastating smile, he lowered his head and drew her nipple into his mouth and Bella whimpered with disbelief as excitement flooded her pelvis in a heated rush.

  ‘You really can’t—’

  ‘Yes, I can.’ His voice husky, he covered her body with his in a decisive movement and took her face in one strong hand. ‘Tell me no, and I stop. Is that what you want?’

  Bella stared up at him helplessly. She felt trapped, feminine and deliciously aware of the hard press of his powerful body against hers.

  Zafiq slid his hand down her bare thigh. ‘If there’s a no coming, make it soon, habibiti, because I’m a very hungry guy.’

  Bella was hypnotised by the look in his eyes. She ought to say no. She really, really ought to say no. But right at that moment she didn’t care that he wasn’t suitable. She didn’t care that they had nothing in common, that this wasn’t real.

  She wanted him so badly it was embarrassing.

  Reading the desperation in her eyes he gave a slow smile of masculine satisfaction and her last coherent thought was that it was a good job the British tabloid press were never going to get hold of this story.

  Zafiq brought his wide, sensual mouth down on hers with the assured confidence of a conqueror claiming the spoils.

  Exactly as she had the first time, Bella went up in flames. He demanded everything from her, the erotic slide of his tongue stealing the last of her self-control. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, lingering on sleek bare skin, feeling the play of male muscle under her fingers.

  He muttered something against her mouth and shifted slightly, his hand removing her bra with a single movement of his long fingers. Bella felt a sudden urge to cover herself and he must have sensed her sudden doubt because he shifted his body again, holding her pinned beneath him.

  ‘You have a fabulous body,’ he breathed, lowering his mouth and claiming the straining tip of one breast. ‘A temptation for any man.’

  Taking advantage of the fact he was distracted, Bella put her hands on his chest and pushed him onto his back. Then she straddled him, her blonde hair sliding over her shoulder and tickling his chest.

  ‘Now we’ll see who is in charge,’ she said smugly, gasping suddenly as she realised where she was sitting.

  He gave a slow smile of appreciation as he registered the same thing. ‘Make no mistake, habibiti—’ he groaned thickly ‘—you may be the one on top, but I am still the one in charge.’

  ‘You think so?’ Leaning forward, Bella trailed the tip of her tongue over his shoulder and felt his sudden tension. Smiling to herself, she continued to lick her way down his body until she heard him give a deep, earthy groan.

  Relishing the shift in the balance of power, Bella drove him wild with her mouth and tongue, pinning his arms down with her hands and holding him there. Her prisoner. The delusion lasted all of a few minutes and then he flipped her onto her back with embarrassing ease and shifted above her, flattening her to the mattress with the weight of his body.

  ‘You just have to be the one on top, don’t you?’ Bella gasped, her hair tangling with his arm as their bodies connected from shoulder to thigh. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you have a power complex?’

  ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredible?’

  The breath caught in her throat. ‘No.’ No one thought she was incredible.

  Pushing that thought away, Bella slid her fingers into his silky hair and dragged his head down to hers. She wanted to forget, and if there was anyone who could make her forget, it was this man—and if there was a price to pay tomorrow, she’d pay it.

  ‘So why do you keep a knife by the bed?’

  ‘It isn’t by the bed. It’s by me. This is the desert, habibiti—’ Zafiq turned to look at her and she saw that his eyes were actually a deep, dark brown rather than black ‘—there are always risks.’

  And he was the biggest risk of all, Bella thought weakly, hardly recognising herself. This couldn’t possibly be her, could it? Lying compliant and quiet next to a virile, dominant male. The desert must finally have affected her brain.

  But this time she didn’t make the mistake of trying to snuggle.

  She couldn’t face another rejection.

  Just looking at him was enough to make her want him again an
d when he leant forward to deliver a lingering kiss to her mouth, her tummy tumbled and she waited in a fever of anticipation.

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Bella groaned and then realised that he was talking about food. ‘I—Great. Yes. Food.’

  He looked at her for a long moment and then pulled himself up on his elbow. ‘This is not how I usually spend my time in the desert.’

  Bella gave a faltering smile. ‘Am I supposed to say sorry?’ Suddenly he seemed remote and intimidating. ‘Can you stop acting like a sheikh? You make me feel uneasy.’

  ‘How do you want me to act?’

  ‘Like a man.’ Her eyes lingered on the dark stubble that shaded his jaw. ‘You’re off duty.’

  ‘I’m never off duty. Responsibilities don’t go away just because you are not looking at them.’

  Unsettled by the topic of conversation, Bella gave a saucy smile. ‘You’ve got to learn to relax and have fun. Talking of which—’ She pounced on him, pushing him onto his back, using the element of surprise to her advantage. ‘Now you’re in my power.’

  He looked at her with mocking, slumberous eyes. ‘You think so, habibiti?’

  ‘Surrender or be punished.’ She nipped his jaw with her teeth, loving the rough texture—helplessly, hopelessly attracted to his raw masculinity. ‘By the time I’ve finished with you, you won’t need a harem.’ A girl could become addicted to his mouth.

  ‘You are a one-woman harem.’ He groaned, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her mouth down to his with determined force. ‘And you are driving me mad.’

  ‘I have that effect on people,’ Bella murmured against his mouth, her hair sliding around them like a gold curtain, locking them into their own private world. ‘Just lie still while I drive you even madder.’

  Zafiq poured milk into a cup and stared at the sunrise.

  What was he doing?

  An entire day and night had passed and the only time they’d left the tent was to cool down in the still waters of the oasis. How could he have lost track of time? Since when had he had so little self-control that he couldn’t resist a beautiful woman?

  He’d forgotten duty, responsibility—everything except the vivacious, feisty, incredibly sexy girl in his bed.

  ‘Don’t tell me—’ her voice came from behind him ‘—you’re standing there thinking we shouldn’t be doing this.’

  Zafiq turned and almost dropped the milk. Despite the lack of bathroom facilities her hair hung smooth and sleek over her shoulder, like honey poured from the jar. Her eyes were the same blue as the cloudless sky and they sparkled with life and happiness. He’d never met a woman so vital and energetic. ‘For someone who can’t wait to escape from the desert, you look remarkably content.’

  ‘I am content.’ Ignoring the cup of milk in his hand, she wound her arms around him, completely uninhibited. ‘The desert is growing on me. I like some of its inhabitants.’

  His senses overwhelmed by the scent of her hair and the warmth of her body, Zafiq stood stiffly, bemused by the feelings that besieged him. Accustomed to people treating him with the appropriate degree of deference and distance, he found her tactile, affectionate nature faintly disturbing. She had no idea how she was supposed to behave with him.

  And he had no idea how to behave with her.

  Struggling against his natural tendency to keep people at a distance, he finally lifted his hand to stroke her back but she’d already pulled away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes suddenly guarded, as if his lack of response had injured her.

  ‘So—’ her tone was a shade cooler than it had been a moment earlier ‘—what are we going to do today?’

  What he wanted to do was drag her back against him but his years of ruthless self-discipline acted like chains, preventing him from freely expressing his emotions. He took refuge in the practical. ‘You need to eat—’

  ‘Is this breakfast? I’ve lost track—’ She gazed at the mug in his hand and her lips curved into a cheeky smile. ‘What’s that you’re holding? Milk-sheikh?’ Glancing at his face, she shrugged. ‘Sorry. That’s my last sheikh joke, I promise. And I’ll behave. I know you want solitude so I’ll just stay here for the rest of the day and you can go and do whatever it is you do when you’re by yourself.’

  Zafiq looked up at the position of the sun and gauged whether he still had time to ride before the sun grew too hot for the horses.

  ‘We will eat and then ride together.’ He had no idea what made him make the suggestion but suddenly solitude seemed less appealing than having this gorgeous, spirited woman by his side when he rode.

  ‘Do you only ever give orders?’ Taking the milk from him, she knelt down on the rug with easy grace and helped herself to a date from the bowl he’d prepared. ‘Mmm. I love these. They’re completely different from the ones at home.’

  ‘Are you a confident rider?’

  She nibbled the rich, dark flesh of the date and licked her fingers. ‘Is that a serious question?’

  Blinded by a sudden vision of her straddling him, Zafiq tensed, shocked into silence by the sheer force of his response to her.

  She looked at him expectantly. ‘I won’t fall off the horse if that’s what’s worrying you.’ Her expression was slightly puzzled, as if she was trying to work out what he was thinking. ‘I’ve ridden since I was a child.’

  ‘Your last experience on the back of a horse wasn’t a huge success.’

  ‘The riding was fine—it was my sense of direction that was at fault.’ Her fingers closed round another date. ‘Well, the horse’s sense of direction wasn’t anything to write home about either, but I suppose that’s not her fault. The desert looks the same in every direction.’

  ‘On the contrary, it is a varied landscape if you keep your eyes open.’

  ‘That’s where I was going wrong…’ Bella finished her milk and ate a piece of the bread he’d prepared. ‘I collapsed unconscious and I haven’t yet learned to do that with my eyes open. This food is absolutely delicious, thank you.’

  Zafiq found it impossible to look away from her. Kneeling on the rug she was like some pagan goddess—lean and supple, fit and strong, her long limbs a warm honey gold under the hot desert sun. Even without access to a bathroom mirror and a bag full of cosmetics, she dazzled. And she was a woman who knew how to use her looks. The fact that, right now, she was too busy gorging on dates and licking her fingers to worry about seduction made her all the more seductive.

  Zafiq felt the heat streak through his body. And he’d ordered her to spend the day with him. Was he mad? ‘The trousers you were wearing yesterday are dry now. Put them on. It will be more comfortable and protect your legs.’ And his sanity. ‘And stay in my tracks.’

  ‘What happens if I don’t?’

  ‘Amira goes into deep sand and breaks a leg,’ Zafiq said bluntly and saw horror cross her features.

  ‘Right. I’ll follow you, then.’

  ‘So you will behave for the horse, but not for me?’ He was once again forced to rethink his initial assessment of her as selfish and shallow. Whether she realised it or not, she was constantly revealing glimpses of the soft, caring woman under the defiant, independent exterior.

  ‘I’ve always been better with horses than people. I find them more straightforward.’

  Zafiq paused with his hand on the stallion’s head, wondering what she meant by that remark. Curious, he turned to look at her but she was making a fuss of the horse, her profile revealing nothing. She looked young. Vulnerable.

  Reminding himself that there was no room in his life for a woman like her, Zafiq turned back to his horse. ‘You need to change your clothes.’

  He heard the soft tread of her footsteps as she walked away, but she was back only moments later, dressed in the cotton trousers she’d been wearing when he’d rescued her, her long hair now falling in a thick plait between her shoulder blades, secured by another strand taken from a date palm. For ingenuity, he couldn’t fault her.

  �
��Wear a scarf over your mouth and nose.’ Handing her a length of soft cloth, he showed her how to wind it around her face so that it protected her from the sand.

  Just when he was confident he had his reactions firmly under control, she lowered her eyelashes seductively. ‘Do I look mysterious? Is this where I do the dance of the seven scarves?’

  Heat ripped through him, sharp and dangerous as a blade. Gritting his teeth, Zafiq secured the fabric and stepped back from her. ‘You are obsessed with harems and dancing.’ But the scarf simply accentuated her beautiful eyes and he caught her by the waist, virtually flung her onto the back of the mare, before turning away abruptly.

  Never before had he struggled to stay in control. He’d taken it as an indication of his own strength but now he realised that his control had never been truly tested. Until now.

  Vaulting onto his stallion, Zafiq gathered up the reins and turned to look at her. She sat easily on the horse, as lean and athletic as she’d been in the pool. And she watched him with those dangerously beautiful eyes.

  ‘So what are we going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to show you that there’s a world beyond your laptop and your iPod.’ His eyes clashed with hers and for a disturbing moment the future loomed in the background, a stark reminder that this wasn’t his life. Or hers. Just an interlude. And then he reminded himself that the future had no place in what they shared. This was about the moment. This was about now. ‘I’m going to show you the desert.’

  Chapter Six

  BELLA urged Amira faster, screwing up her eyes as the horse’s hooves pounded the sand into a golden mist. Ahead of her, the Sheikh’s powerful stallion thundered across the desert and she gave a shout of laughter because each time she did this it gave her the most incredible high.

  It felt fantastic to be back on a horse, and riding in the desert was the most exciting, exhilarating experience to be had.

  She’d ridden out with Zafiq every morning and evening for the past three days and she couldn’t remember ever being so happy. When they weren’t riding they were making love or cooling off in the still waters of the beautiful pool or nibbling dates and talking.