Never Seduce a Sheikh (International Bad Boys Book 2) (16 page)

“You like giving the orders. Being in charge. I just wanted to know why it’s so important.”

The arm around her waist tightened, his breath along the back of her neck. “Why do you want to know?”

She couldn’t stop the shiver that went through her. “Back in the car, you said passion was dangerous. I want to know why you thought that. Because you’ve just proved pretty conclusively that it isn’t.”

“We should not be speaking of these things.”

“Why not?” She turned in his arms “I told you about Dan. Can’t you give me something in return?”

“This is not a game we’re playing.”

“I know that.” Gently, she ran a finger along his jaw, tracing the strong line of it, unable to keep her hands off him. “But is it wrong to want to know more about you? You know everything about me.”

He didn’t reply for a long moment. Then he said, “My history is not a pleasant one. I did not want to bring such memories here, with you.”

She remembered what he’d said in the dunes. The look on his face as he’d told her. His father beating him. God . . . “Isma’il, it’s okay. If it’s too much, you don’t have to—”

“No,” the word was soft, but stopped her. “You are right to ask. You have shared things with me. Painful things. You have faced them. Perhaps I need to do the same.” He paused. “Turn over for me.”

Lily didn’t argue, turning again, the raw heat of him up against her back, drawn and held in the circle of his arms. She understood. Some things were easier to say when no one was looking at you.

Behind her, she felt Isma’il’s mouth against her shoulder, brushing a kiss along it before he said, finally. “I do not like to be helpless. I do not like being at someone else’s mercy. Khalid had absolute power and he used it without qualm. Against anyone who stood up to him or argued with him, it didn’t matter who.” A small hesitation. “He used it on me and on my mother as well. And we could do nothing. My mother especially was powerless against him.”

Lily put her hands over his where they lay on her stomach, feeling the tips of his fingers beneath hers. They were cold. Her throat felt tight. “I’m sorry, Isma’il.” Sorry. What a pathetic word to say. But she couldn’t think of anything else. “I’m sorry you had that man for a father. I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

He said nothing for a long moment, but she felt his breath against her neck. “He was not my father. He was not worthy of the name.” Isma’il’s voice was rough. “He was not worthy to be called sheikh either. Dahar suffered under his rule.”

She held his hands tighter, pressing down. Wanting to give him something, make it better for him. “And you’re fixing it. You’re healing what he broke.”

Another pause, longer this time, his body taut behind hers. “Sometimes,” he said hoarsely, “I do not know if what I am doing is healing anything at all.”

Lily closed her eyes. Pain in his voice. Doubt. Khalid may have left scars on his country, but the ones he’d left on his son ran far deeper and were far more painful.

“You are, Isma’il. You are. The fact that I am here, negotiating with your tribes is testament to that. You could easily have sold the oil to anyone and forced them to agree. But you didn’t. You’re giving them a choice.”

Slowly, the tension began to relax in the hard muscular body that lay against hers. “They may not choose Harkness,
Habibti.
”

“I know. But if they don’t, I can live with that.” It was odd to realize that what had seemed so important to her before, suddenly seemed less so now. Part of wanting the contract had been wanting to prove herself as CEO. Prove her strength and her power. Prove she wasn’t vulnerable. She could see that so clearly now.

Yet, it wasn’t the contract she needed to prove that. That strength and power had always been there. All she’d needed was Isma’il to help her find them.

A more comfortable silence fell between them. The hands on her stomach began to move, lightly stroking her. She let him, her body beginning to wake into life again.

“What does
habibti
mean?” she murmured, the breath leaving her body as his fingers stroked lower.

“Darling,” he murmured. “It means darling.”

“I’m not your darling, Isma’il.” Her breath caught as his fingers pushed down between her thighs.

“You are, Lily.” He kissed her neck. “You are.”

*     *     *

When she opened
her eyes next, it was to find the tent walls glowing with light and the other side of the bed empty. In fact the whole tent was empty. Isma’il wasn’t there.

She sat up, holding the sheet around her.

So, apparently she’d spent the night in Isma’il’s bed. It hadn’t been her intention. She’d thought she’d probably get back to her own tent at some point but really, there hadn’t been a moment. Not when they’d spent most of the night making love.

Shivers of heat slipped over her skin at the memory and she shifted on the bed, restless and hot, a delicious soreness between her thighs. Lily smiled.

Now, was probably not the time to be thinking about that though.

Now was the time to start thinking about the fact that she was in the sheikh’s tent, naked, and she didn’t quite know what to do next. They hadn’t exactly held back the night before, which meant people would probably be aware of what had gone on between them.

Last night, she’d been okay with that but now . . .

Actually, now she was still okay with that. Maybe being with Isma’il would hurt Harkness’s bid for the contract. Yet, she found herself comfortable with the thought. What had happened between them had been too special for shame or denial. And she was done with being afraid of her sexuality and her femininity. She was free now. Isma’il had helped her discover the woman she truly was and there would be no going back.

And speaking of . . . she frowned at the empty tent. Where was Isma’il? And, more to the point, where were her clothes?

Drawing the sheet around her, she slipped off the bed, scanning around for the tunic and trousers she’d worn the night before. There was no sign of them, but folded neatly on a nearby chair were another stack of clothes. Her clothes. A note sat on top of the pile.

For you, Habibti. From your tent. Torn silk is hardly appropriate work-wear.

Everything she needed was there. Underwear, shirt, trousers. A small, warm glow unfolded inside her. At least, she wouldn’t have to walk naked back to her tent.

Dropping the sheet, she dressed, only to notice something else once she’d done so. On the low table near the entrance of the tent was a tray, breakfast laid out on it. Coffee, fruit, flat bread, cheese and a small pot of jam. She went over to it and found another note.

I kept you up late last night. You’ll probably need sustenance.

Lily smiled, the warm glow settling deeper inside her. Clothes. And now food. He was very thoughtful.

She sat down on the cushion near the table, poured herself some coffee, and began putting some of the food on her plate.

At that moment, the tent flap opened and Isma’il’s tall figure stepped inside.

Lily’s heart gave a peculiar little leap. “Good morning,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I wondered where you’d got to.”

“I had work to do.” He didn’t smile, the expression on his face unreadable. “You are required at the meeting tent, Ms. Harkness. The chiefs have made a decision.”

Lily blinked. Both at the formality of her name after being ‘Lily’ for most of the night and at his news. “Already? But I thought you told me they’d take a few days?”

“So did I. Apparently not.”

She got to her feet, wanting to say something, wanting to have the closeness of the night before between them again. Yet, a strange sense of distance seemed to emanate from him.

“Isma’il? What’s wrong?”

But he was already turning away. “We will speak of that later. Right now, we need to hear what the chiefs have to say.” Then, he went back outside again, leaving Lily staring at the canvas.

The warm glow she’d had early began to evaporate, leaving a cold, empty feeling in its place.

She’d wanted more, she realized. Wanted that warmth in his blue eyes she’d seen the night before. Wanted the heat. Wanted to be ‘Lily’, not ‘Ms. Harkness.’

But now was not the time to examine why she wanted those things.

Leaving the coffee and the questions for later, Lily went out to see what the tribesmen of Dahar had decided for her company.

*     *     *

The speed of
the decision had taken Isma’il by surprise. The chiefs normally liked to take their time with a decision of this magnitude, especially because they liked to argue about it. But it seemed as if they’d had a strong enough consensus to make a decision far earlier than expected.

And they’d decided in favor of Harkness.

At the meeting table, he glanced in Lily’s direction as the eldest chief—as was fitting—made the announcement. A flush had crept into her face, her cheeks pink. She smiled, her dark eyes full of triumph. Reminding him of how she’d been the night before, standing by his bed, blonde hair loose down her back, a wild, reckless look in her eyes. Daring him. Challenging him. Beautiful and so seductive.

He looked away. No, he could not think about her in that way now. He’d allowed himself that one night with her. It was over and done with and he couldn’t go back.

That morning when he’d stepped into the tent to tell her the chiefs had made their decision, he’d hoped to find her cool and poised, once more the CEO in her armor. But she hadn’t been. She’d dressed in the clothes he’d got for her, but the look in her eyes as they’d met his had been full of warmth. And the smile she’d given him had been the one he’d seen by the fountain at the palace that night he’d caught her speaking to her father. The smile he’d wanted her to give just to him. A rare, beautiful smile.

It had been so hard not to smile in return, but he’d managed to stop himself. Putting back the distance between them had to be done. He had no other choice.

Rising from the meeting table, Isma’il made a small speech commending the chiefs on their decision. He had the right to veto it of course, but he made sure they knew he would not exercise that right. He also made a point of making clear his opinion of Harkness, how he thought they were a worthy choice for the rights to Dahar’s oil and he had no doubt with Lily at the helm, Dahar would soon see the benefits and so would the desert people.

He didn’t look at her as he spoke, though he was conscious of her presence. The way the tendrils of blonde hair had escaped her ponytail and lay against the back of her neck, highlighting its vulnerability. The soft hollow of her throat laid bare by the shirt she wore.

The curve of her mouth as she smiled her cool smile.

It would pass, this need for her. Desire always did in the end. In the meantime, he would simply do what he’d done beforehand, keep the need under strict control. Ignore it. Pretend it wasn’t there. Easy. Simple.

As the meeting broke up, Isma’il spoke with a couple of the chiefs, noting that Lily appeared to be waiting for him. She probably wanted to talk about the night before, and he was tempted to busy himself with the tribesmen until he felt able to deal with her.

But, of course, that would be the coward’s way out and he’d never been a coward.

“Was there something you wanted, Ms. Harkness?” he said as he finished his conversation with the chiefs.

Lily came to join him under the awning of the tent. “So, I’m back to being Ms. Harkness again?”

“We are dealing with business now. What happened last night is not something we should speak of here.”

She let out a soft breath, a frustrated look crossing her face. “Fine.” She lifted her hand, wiped it across her brow. “But we need to talk.”

“About the contract?”

“The contract.” Her dark gaze met his. “And other things.”

“Those other things have no bearing on the oil decision.”

“No, but it does mean that Harkness will have a presence in Dahar for some years to come. And . . . ” she hesitated, her voice softening. “And so will I.” The look in her eyes and the hesitation as she spoke said volumes.

Isma’il glanced away, not wanting to see what was so obviously hope. “What are you saying?”