Desert Jewels: The Sheikh's Undoing / The Sultan's Choice / Girl in the Bedouin Tent. Annie West
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‘Let’s go and sit down,’ he said abruptly.
Tugging her skirt back over her naked hips, he led her over to one of the low sofas on the far side of the office. Gently, he pushed her down on it, then slid next to her, his black eyes narrowed and questioning.
‘So why?’ he queried softly.
She guessed she could have pretended to misunderstand him, but she knew exactly what he meant. And that was the trouble—she knew Tariq far too well to play games with him. ‘Why am I a virgin, you mean?’
‘Wrong tense,’ he corrected acidly.
Slightly flustered, she looked at him, seeking refuge in flippancy. ‘Because you make me work such long hours that I hardly ever have the opportunity to meet any other men?’
‘Izzy. I’m serious. Why?’
She sighed. ‘Because…Oh, Tariq. Why do you think?’
Because no man had ever come close to the way he’d made her feel. Because it had been impossible not to let him make love to her once they’d started down that path. He’d warned her that there was going to be no long-term or commitment, and she wasn’t holding out for any. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be honest, did it? Just as long as she kept it cool.
‘Because nobody has ever turned me on as much as you do.’
He found himself slightly shocked to hear her talking to him in that way—but that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? The fact that she could see their lovemaking for what it was and not construct some romantic fantasy about it the way that women always did?
‘It was like that for me too,’ he admitted softly. ‘In fact…’ Hot and erotic memories flooded back. Of skin on skin as she welcomed him into her hot, slick body. He swallowed, acknowledging the potency of what had happened between them. And because of her innocence he felt he owed her the truth. ‘It was the best sex of my life.’
Isobel drew away from him, hating the sudden leap of her heart, angry with herself for wanting to buy into what was clearly a lie. And angry with him for feeling that she needed to be placated with a lie as whopping as that one. ‘Oh, come on, Tariq—with all the lovers you’ve had, you’re honestly expecting me to believe that?’
‘But it is true.’ He stared into her now smoky tawny eyes, wondering how much of the truth she could bear. ‘You see, never before have I made love to a woman without protection. It is a risk that I can never take—for all the obvious reasons. But a virgin who has never known another man cannot be tainted.’ He took her fingers and drifted them over his groin, enjoying seeing her eyes widen as he hardened instantly beneath them. ‘And a virgin who is on the pill cannot give me an unwanted child.’
Isobel snatched her hand away. ‘So you really hit the jackpot with me?’
He gave a low laugh as he recaptured her hand and brought it up to his lips. ‘You wanted to know why I found sex with you more exciting than with anyone else and I’ve told you. Don’t ask the questions, Izzy, if you can’t bear to hear the answers.’
‘You’re impossible,’ she whispered.
‘And you’re…’ His eyes narrowed as he kissed each fingertip in turn. ‘Well, right now you are looking positively decadent.’
Her indignation melted away as he slid her fingers inside the moist cavern of his mouth. It was as if even his most innocuous touch could weaken all her defences. ‘Am I?’
‘Extremely.’ He drifted the now damp fingers to the faint indigo shadows beneath her sleepy tawny eyes. ‘But you also look worn out, kalila.’
She loved him touching her like that. She loved him touching her pretty much anywhere. ‘Mmm?’
‘Mmm. So why don’t you just relax?’ He brushed back the heavy spill of curls which had fallen down around her face. ‘Go on, Izzy. Relax.’
With a little sigh, she let her head drift back against the sofa as he continued to stroke her hair, just as if she were some cat that he was petting.
Distantly, as her weighted eyelids whispered to a close, she could hear the sound of water splashing. For one crazy moment she could have sworn that she heard someone whistling. But then the emotion of what had just happened and the stupefying endorphins it had produced made Isobel drift off into a glorious half-world of sleep.
She was woken by the distinct smell of sandalwood and the lightest brush of lips over hers, and when she blinked her eyes open it was to see Tariq standing over her. His black hair was glittering with tiny droplets of water and he was wearing a stark and beautifully cut tuxedo. He must have showered and changed in his office’s luxury bathroom, she thought dazedly.
The crisp whiteness of his silk shirt contrasted against the glow of his olive skin, and his black eyes positively gleamed with energy and satisfaction. He looked like a perfect specimen of masculinity, she thought—all pumped up and raring to go. As if, for him, sex had been nothing but a very gratifying form of exercise.
She stared up at him. ‘What’s…what’s happening?’
Tariq swallowed down a surge of lust. She looked so damned sexy lying there that part of him wanted to carry on where they’d left off. To do it to her again—only more slowly this time, and on the comfort of a couch. But wouldn’t some kind of natural break be better—for both of them? Wouldn’t that allow them to put some necessary perspective on what had just happened—and allow her not to start reading too much into what could be a potentially awkward situation?
‘You know I have to go to the party at the Maraban Embassy,’ he said softly. ‘You were nagging me about it before we…’
Isobel kept the stupefied smile glued to her lips. He was still planning on going to the party!
‘Yes. Yes, of course. You must go.’ She struggled to sit up a little, but Tariq made matters even worse by leaning over her and stroking a strand of hair away from her lips with the tip of his thumb. For a moment his thumb lingered, tracing its way around the sudden tremble of her lips.
‘I’ll get my car to drop you off home,’ he said.
‘No, honestly. I can get the—’
‘Bus?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Without your panties?’ His rueful gaze drifted across the room to where her ripped knickers were lying in a crumpled little heap of silk. ‘I don’t think so, anisah. So go and quickly run a brush through your hair, and then we’ll go.’
It was rather a grim end to an eventful afternoon, and one which made Isobel question the wisdom of what she had just done. Quickly she availed herself of his bathroom, dragging the Titian curls into some sort of order and straightening her clothes before they went down in the elevator to his waiting car.
There was no back seat kiss, no telling her that she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever met and that he would spend the evening thinking about her. Instead all proprieties were observed as Tariq spent the short journey to the Maraban Embassy tapping on the flat, shiny screen of his laptop.
When the car pulled up and he looked up he seemed almost to have forgotten who he was with.
‘Izzy,’ he said softly.
She looked at him, aware that he looked impeccably groomed in comparison to the rumpled exterior she must be presenting. Was he regretting what had happened? Wondering how he could have allowed himself to get so carried away in the heat of the moment? Well, she didn’t know how these things usually worked, but she was determined that he should have a let-out clause if he wanted one.
Batting him a quick smile, she pointed to the car door, which was already being opened for him. Let him see that she was perfectly cool about what had happened.
‘Better hurry along, Tariq,’ she said quickly.