For the Sheik's Pleasure (Sheiks in Love Book 2)

by Mary Jo Springer

  A flicker of yearning rekindled within her and transported her back to his heroic actions on the plane. He’d put himself in danger to save her from possible injury. The only other man who’d done anything as chivalrous was Bobby. He’d paid the ultimate price for his actions. Sweet, sweet Bobby. She closed her eyes, fighting to recapture the memories. The lure of his scent, his smile, his feverish fingers searching in the dark. But the horrific recollections of the night he died crushed the good remembrances. She sighed heavily. Had it really been a whole year? At moments like this, it felt like yesterday. One moment she had a husband and they were on the verge of starting a family, and in the blink of an eye, she became a widow with drums and agents marching, winding their way into the cemetery. The three-volley salute. Her last glimpse of his flag-draped coffin as it was lowered into the ground. Her entire world blown to smithereens. She still wept on nights when she rolled over in bed and her fingers sought his comforting warmth only to find a cold empty space. He’d been the love of her life, her partner in every sense of the word. They’d grown up together. Knew everything about each other, finished each other’s sentences and thoughts.

  A team.

  In comparison, she knew nada about the unpredictable sheik except his beguiling ability to transfix her with a kiss. If he decided to flex his masculine prowess . . . The mere notion of what could occur sent a tremor of both delight and terror whooshing up her spine. Despite the sultry temperature of the night, a shiver shook her.

  A second later, the hair on her arms and neck stood, trumpeting his presence, long before she caught a glimpse of his tall, darkened silhouette on the terrace. Her eyes searched the entire balcony that snaked around the second floor. He was there . . . somewhere within the darkness, she could feel him. Beneath the snug fabric of her black tank top, her nipples puckered into taut buds as the primitive siren song of his body summoned hers. Closing her eyes, she struggled against the lure of his nearness . . . and failed miserably.

  Cloaked in the night’s shadows, he prowled toward her, his commanding air a dominating force. The baiting scent of his exotic cologne, mingled with the night’s sensual fragrance, created an aphrodisiac deluge. A whiff of apprehension blasted up her spine. Careful, careful, she cautioned herself.

  The escalating wind molded her silk pajama bottoms to her thighs, the soft fabric rubbing sensually against her skin . . . teasing her with the hedonistic slide of the cool satin material.

  Run! Don’t be a fool. Get the hell away from him! Barricade the door, jump beneath the covers, and hide from his fierce carnal warrant. He’d sworn he wasn’t finished with her, and it was not a threat, it was an affirmation.

  “Be strong,” she whispered into the night’s breeze as it rushed out to sea. Don’t entertain any thoughts of becoming involved, no matter how virile and irresistible his persuasive powers. Yeah right, she affirmed, trying to convince her needy body, pulsating with his nearness.

  “How’s your suite? Is there anything I can get you?”

  Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sea and highlighted the dangerous man next to her.

  His voice, a low, penetrating tone wrapped in elemental sensuality, imprisoned her. A hot ache churned in her body, centering in her womanly core. His exacting gaze inched over her, lingering on her tank top. He was wearing the same faded jeans from earlier, and she marveled at how the thick material slanted just right to expose the clear-cut line of his hips.

  Whoa!

  The button at his waistband was undone. SOS! SOS! Flashed through her brain. And to make matters even worse, his erection strained the front of his jeans, stretching the denim material to the limits.

  He leaned forward, placing a quick, tender kiss upon her lips. That simple action hydrated her anguished soul. Simple? Him? Never. He pushed back, staring into her eyes. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, savoring the salt, wind, and sinfulness taste of . . . him. His gaze tracked the motion as an incoherent sound escaped him. Before she could move, his arms ensnared her, dragged her closer to the incinerating fervor of his body. She softened against him. His skin, a thousand degrees of pure testosteronic heat, personified his virility. A wrecking ball of desire slammed into her as she softened against him.

  Instantly, everything changed. His tongue plunged inside, coiling around hers, and fabricating a sexual cocktail so addictive, the hunger for him overrode everything else. Job. Duty. Loyalty. It was heaven . . . it was hell. A seasoned pro in the art of seduction, he manipulated her like a rag doll. Oh, the things he could teach her. Man, how he could teach her. How easy it would be to fall into bed with a man of his mastery. Too easy. But he stole her capacity to think, to rationalize, and she required some space to keep her wits about her before she did something stupid. Really stupid.

  Again.

  Using the palms of her hands, she pushed against his toned chest, her fingers curling when his skin scorched the pads. She squirmed to get out of the circle of his arms. Immediately, he dropped his arms to his sides, his brow wrinkling, marring his imposing features.

  Her gaze moved at a snail’s pace up to his. “Diyari, I don’t want to be just another number in your long list of conquests.” Her voice sounded fragile . . . confused.

  He blinked, once, twice, disbelief flooding those mesmerizing emerald eyes of his.

  Stiffening, he stepped back. Standing perfectly still, she watched as the escalating sea breeze played havoc with the onyx layers of his hair, spilling a few strands across his forehead. With a swipe of his fingers, he smoothed the wayward locks back into place. She’d shocked him with her words.

  A taut muscle ticked away in his jaw. “No . . . never.”

  The huskiness of his voice reignited the firestorm within her. A tangled blend of formidable potency and exquisite silk, the sound ricocheted through her, landing in the area around her heart. Unlike an unsuspecting fly, she willingly flew into his unescapable spider’s web.

  His shoulders slumped slightly as his lips pressed into a tight line, “You are a prize worth fighting for. I ache for you like the desert yearns for the rain.”

  Oh my God! The things he said to her, his carnal words as stimulating as the tropical night surrounding them.

  He rotated, his profile flinty, controlled. A salt-tinged breeze continued to blow, ensnaring the tails of his unbuttoned tailored white shirt and wafting it out behind him like wings, exposing the tautness of his six-pack abs. Every inch of him solid . . . hard . . . a powerhouse of strength and authority. Acres and acres of smooth, sun-kissed skin were displayed to her hungry gaze. In the teasing hollow of his well-developed pecs dangled the golden medallion of a black scorpion, duplicating the one on his hip. Her breath hiccupped at the sight, but her eyes traversed his chest before drifting down once again to the unbuttoned waistband of his jeans. She was staring. Hard. Gawking as if eyeballing the display window of a candy store and discovering she wanted a taste of everything. She tore her gaze away, but his beguiling magnetism forced her to peer at him.

  He shifted from one foot to the other. “If you continue to stare at me like that . . .” His voice betrayed a velvety gentleness that as Sheik, he was forced to keep hidden. One long, tapered finger raised her chin until their eyes met. Within their sea-green abyss, she spied a ravenousness yearning that stole her breath. Smiling that hot-as-the–desert-at-high-noon smile, the one that made her legs shake, he began, “You are making it so hard for me to be a gentleman.” Retracting his finger, he sunk his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “And I guarantee you this reprieve won’t last for long.”

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she planted her feet firmly and raised her chin. “Your Royal Highness, I don’t think mixing business and pleasure is such a good idea.”

  He rubbed the nape of his neck, shaking his head. “Ms. Danvers, I don’t think you comprehend the depth of my desire, but I certain
ly am willing to show you.”

  “Don’t you think you can call me Candace? I mean after the plane . . .”

  A torturous sigh erupted from him, “I’m afraid if I say your name, it will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back so to speak.”

  What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I baiting him?

  A flash of something amatory lit up his eyes as he inched closer. Erogenous steam radiated off him, dueling with the faint, sexy smile quirking the corners of his mouth. She forced herself to remain standing in the same spot. A step closer and he’d invade her personal space.

  A strong gust of wind off the sea nudged her into him. To prevent herself from falling against him, she stabilized herself by bracing her hands against the bronzed rock of his chest. Unable to resist the overpowering temptation to touch him, her fingers flared out over his smooth, lustrous flesh, skimming her way around his back . . . pressing lightly . . . exploring.

  That simple spark ignited an explosion.

  An elemental grumble vibrated within his chest. His rocketing pulse thumped against the pads of her fingers. Reaching down, he enclosed her fingers, extracting them from his exposed flesh and bringing them up to his lips for a kiss.

  “I want you to kiss me like you did this evening—with the same . . . abandonment.” His sultry accent adding to the seductiveness of his voice.

  Oh no! Oh no, no, no.

  He captured tendrils of her blowing hair and raised them to his nose, inhaling the fragrance. “Your hair captures the highlights of the sand of the desert. Vibrant, golden, its pigment entices me.”

  A heavy sigh whispered from his lips. “You’re confusing the hell out of me. You know that.”

  I’m confusing him? What? Not possible. The sailor knots in her stomach were the size of an oil tanker.

  For an elongated moment she studied him. “Diyari . . . I . . . I . . . can’t.” Her eyes scrutinized his face, focusing on the dark stubble lining his granite jaw that paid homage to his Arabian ancestry.

  Releasing his hold on her hair, he rifled a hand through his thick mane, further disturbing the wind-blown layers.

  He winced at her refusal. “Can’t or won’t?” He slipped a finger under the shoulder strap of her tank top, slid it back and forth, toyed with it, the rousing slide of the rough pad of his finger almost unbearable. Her eyes slid closed as she savored the moment.

  “Today on the plane,” she paused, searching for the right words. “That was a life or death situation. I lost control.”

  He pulled her more snugly into the circle of his arms. His firm erection pressed against her stomach. Their bodies blended from chest to toes, as his strong hands framed her face. “Lose it again,” he breathed into her ear, his hot breath compressing every nerve ending. “Here in my arms . . . in my bed."

  “You’re impossible.”

  His hands slid down her back, his fingers pressing into her skin, as he massaged the area where her spine and bottom merged. He cupped her buttock, anchoring her more securely against his erection. Her longing equaled the intensity of the lightning flashing out to sea. He mutilated her ability to think, to reason. He wasn’t offering her any quarter. How did one refuse a man like him? Especially when her body screamed . . . yield, yield! She was about to burst with desire. How easy to throw caution to the wind and give in to him! What would happen? Who would know? Just him, and her, and she certainly trusted him with their secret. But was it enough? With him this close, she lost her ability to reason.

  She pressed her hands against his strong forearms, escaping his imprisoning arms. “We both have commitments.”

  Ignoring her objections, he continued to press his suit. “If you’re referring to Princess Naomi . . .”

  “Yes . . . no.” She shook her head. God, she sounded like a shrew. “What I’m trying to say is that I’m only here for a short while. It would be incredibly stupid for us to destroy your chance of happiness with Princess Naomi. After all, you have your duty.”

  His incredible persona smothered her. Taking another step back, she focused on the storm-tossed sea, collecting her thoughts. For God’s sake, she had a job to do.

  Throwing his head back, his voice reeking with frustration, he barked, “Ha! Don’t preach to me about duty and honor! They’ve been my constant companions my entire life.” His lips compressed into a tight line as his temper flared. “Maybe . . . maybe . . . just this once I want something for myself. Maybe I want you so desperately, I’m willing to shatter all the rules.”

  Her cheeks burned at his words. Oh, why did he have to say such things? Didn’t he comprehend how impossible their situation was?

  Her determination faltered, her thoughts as serrated as a bread knife slicing through a fresh baked loaf. She understood his anger, but she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by him. No matter how much she longed to be with him, she had to put an end to this. She’d already crossed the line of propriety this afternoon in the plane. She didn’t need to add to her sins by allowing him liberties the entire time she remained in his country. She wasn’t mistress material. Never would be mistress material. Never. No matter how she tried to spin it, in the end she’d want more, and with Diyari, there never could be more. Disaster loomed on the horizon. Committed to another woman . . . this relationship had nowhere to go. Disappointment and sorrow consumed her.

  Grinding her teeth against the heavy burden of resolve, she realized her affection for him already marred her judgement. The success of her mission depended on facts, and the bottom line was, he was a Black Scorpion. A Black Scorpion, her brain shouted. How far was she willing to go to protect him? Betrayal? Treason? No. Just no. This had to end . . . now . . . while she still had the will to walk away.

  “You want me?” Surprise turned her question into a tiny puff of air. “You’d throw everything away for me, a woman who you’ve known for a few hours.”

  His brows knitted together. Within the depths of his inviting eyes some disguised emotion flashed before he dropped his uber long lashes to conceal the hidden sentiment. But not before the blackness of his dilated pupils nearly consumed the greenness of those expressive glaucous irises. Oh yeah, he wanted her, maybe as much as she craved him.

  His head shook as he continued, his black hair reflecting beams of moonlight. “No, I’m not talking about throwing everything away. I’m inclined to explore my feelings for a woman who heats my blood for the first time in a long while. When you are in my arms, up against me, I . . .”

  She waved off his next words, “Stop. Just stop. I . . . I . . . can’t.” Her body was so revved up by the close proximity of him, having sex with him would be off the charts.

  His eyebrow arched inquiringly. “Are you still grieving for your husband? For if that is the case, I’ll back off. I won’t push a woman who can’t give me everything she has.”

  She shook her head. No, her grief for Bobby was no longer grounds for dismissing Diyari. If Bobby whispered in her ear right now, he’d say, “Go for it. Do what makes you happy.” And she yearned to “go for it” with Diyari. That was the problem.

  Bending his head a fraction, he closed the distance, his lips halting just a breath away from hers, his steamy breath punching a hole in her determination. “Good, then I’m not going to give up on this.” Those oh-so-sexy eyes of his raked her. Slowly, deliberately, producing a wave of sweet ecstasy that washed over her. “Whatever this is, it’s worth exploring.” His lips descended, the effortless kiss instantly becoming a surging vibration of fierce fervor. Sinful and silky, his lips engulfed hers. Mint . . . he tasted of mint mouthwash. His tongue pressed for entrance, ravishing hers. Helpless to resist him, she fisted the lapels of his shirt and dragged him closer, the need to touch him stronger than her will to walk away. Her knees weakened as a deluge of desire navigated through her. She was hopeless. Her eyes slid shut as primal sensa
tions of him rocked her. His hands cupped her face as he blazed a trail of kisses against her neck, sucking the tender flesh into the volcanic heat of his mouth.

  Every one of her cells cried out for him . . . his touch, the demanding urgency of his heart-stopping kiss, the indelible scent of his masculine body pressing against her so intimately. The heat! Oh my God, the heat! It sluiced through her with a ferocity she’d never known. No, no . . . no!

  Against her ear he whispered, “You wreck me, totally wreck me. Do you know that? I can’t think of anything else but having you beneath me. You’ve driven me insane since the first moment I laid eyes on you. And today on the plane only ramped up those feelings. I’m about to burst with desperation.”

  Taking a step back, away from the power of him, she pointed her finger directly at him. “We are only looking at heartache.” She inched backward, blinking, moving further and further away from him before she did something stupid like throw herself back into his arms, beg him to fulfill her —damn the consequences—and there would be consequences. A heinous battle raged inside her. She craved him and yet someone needed to use restraint before things got any more out of hand.

  Obviously, she hadn’t deterred him. He moved forward, a possessive swagger rolling his hips. Her eyes glued to every succulent movement.

  Give me a break! She begged the heavens, her gaze searching the night sky. He surveyed her, his eyes drifting at a snail’s pace over every inch of her, like a tender caress. God, the way he looked at her, like he could devour her.

  His hand dropped to his stomach. “Heartache? I don’t believe that, and neither should you.” His voice softened into a tender, coaxing tone.