The Sheikh's Redemption. Оливия Гейтс
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for his completion.
“Cherie …” was all she could wheeze.
“Uh … I … God, I didn’t mean—” Cherie stopped, before spluttering again, “I never thought you’d … you’d …”
She’d never thought she’d find her cerebral friend beneath a lion of a man, naked and wrapped around him, in full view for her to see as soon as she walked in the door.
Haidar began to rise off her. She stared up into his face as it changed from ferocious lust to deprecating resignation.
“A flatmate, Roxanne? Seriously?”
“What am I doing still standing here?” Cherie babbled as she ran inside. “Sorry, guys. Please, carry on. I’m not really here!”
By the time they heard Cherie’s bedroom door slam, he was on his feet, buttoning his shirt. For one mad moment, she didn’t see why they couldn’t take Cherie’s advice.
Then sanity lodged back into her brain.
She scrambled up, pulled her bathrobe tight around her.
He shook his head at her far-too-late modesty as he turned away.
At the door, he half turned again, his eyes hooded with stillsimmering desire. “We’ll meet again, ya naari.”
She lurched. His fire.
She’d never thought she’d hear that again. From him. Or ever. She’d long thought her fire had been extinguished.
“But next time, it will be on my turf. And on my terms.”
He touched his tongue to the lip she’d bitten, as if tasting her passion. Then, with one last inflaming look, he whispered, “Until then.”
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