ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance (119 page)

His hands crept up her body, slowly, his fingers touching her and then moving on, leaving behind a sensation of warmth and, oddly, sunlight. She closed her eyes, feeling the passion in his touch and the quiver of desire through his fingertips. She touched him, stroking his chest, reaching behind her and taking his cock—she couldn’t help but giggle a bit when it sprang to life in her hand, and he groaned as the tip began to weep.

He fumbled with her bra, clumsily, stupidly—being blindfolded he had to undo it by touch anyway, and being aroused she could sense that all of his awareness was concentrating at one point.
And what a point
.

Away fell the last of her garments, and she pushed him back down on the bed, stroking his shaft with the lightest of touches, taking a delight in his gasping whimpers of unsatiated desire. His teeth were clenched, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

She leaned over him, letting her nipple fall into his mouth. The connection was immediate, the sensation electrifying. She managed to rip off the blindfold—his reward—just before he raised his hips and rolled on top of her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Let go—”

And she felt him inside her, hot and hard and big, so very big—there was a delight to the pain, an ecstasy that surged through her when he thrust, as if somehow he managed to crack open the gates and unleash the flood that had been building up inside that warm spot. She felt hot, liquid, gelatinous—as free-flowing as water, as airy as the wind, her mind flitting about, sensing only colors, strangely, and lights. She knew, intellectually, that she had a body, and that he was fucking her with an animal desperation, groaning and almost sobbing as he finished inside her. But she felt, oddly, above everything—an odd sense of freedom, of release, as she gave him pleasure and took from him, everythig.

***

The next morning she woke up, certain that everything was just a dream. That there had to be a more rational, logical explanation for why her body felt drained, and why there was that delicious soreness between her legs—that there had to be a reason why she was looking into Malcolm Raines’s sleeping face and feeling like it was all perfectly normal.

Yes, she was still naked.
So it had been real
, she thought. She wondered what her short-lived transformation into the dominant meant. It’d felt good—right, somehow. And yet the surrender to his power had taken so little time, and was so absolute, so complete. He trusted her, and she trusted him, absolutely, and completely. It was a thought that should have brought comfort to her, but for some reason it only made her feel confused.
There must have been others
, she thought, staring at him. His eyes were deep-set, his hair tousled, his face slack—in this light he seemed more cute than handsome, a college student who’d succeeded in banging the hot TA, not the business mogul who could buy escorts by the hour—escorts who could indulge his fantasies.

The thought turned her stomach. Whoever the maid was had been thoughtful, though—she found a bathrobe in the bottom shelf of the nightstand and pulled it on. She went to the chest of drawers where he’d taken the blindfold on.

“Don’t,” his voice said.

She stopped. He was still lying in the same position she’d left him in, turned away from her.

“Don’t,” he said, again. “I know you’re curious, and last night went—good God, but—oh,” he moaned. He rolled over onto his back, his entire body doing its best impression of an eighty-year-old man. “I promise, I will never ask you for more than you’re ready to give, but you must trust me when I say that you’re not ready for what’s in that drawer.”

“How do you know?” she asked, going over to him.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded. “Then trust me,” he said, sitting up. He twisted his back. Vertebrae cracked like fireworks. His demeanor changed instantly. “Wow,” he said. “I don’t know what you did last night, but damn…”

“Are you all right?”

“My back may beg to differ, but yes,” he said. He glided to his feet, found his own bathrobe, and asked, “So, to Scotland or not?”

She gasped, wondering how he could be so blase about this whole thing. She’d just slept with him—on a first date that she never intended to go on.
I am not that woman
, she wanted to say, except that she kind of was, now, wasn’t she? “What is it?” he asked. “You’re feeling guilty about something, aren’t you? Let me guess—you’re not the kind of woman who sleeps with men on the first date?”

She could only nod mutely.

“And do you think I care about that?” he asked.

She shook her head, no.

He took her hand and squeezed it, looking into her eyes, holding her gaze. “I don’t care if you want to get back into bed with Reid today. I don’t care if you go out and fuck every member of Congress—which, by the way, is not a bad way to go about ensuring that votes go your way—”

How he knew that was something she decided not to dwell upon.

“I only care that you will be honest with yourself—and honest with me. You did feel it last night, didn’t you?”

Trust. Acceptance. Love?
She had never believed that love after one date was possible, and yet she couldn’t deny that the thought of flying back to LA in three days without him already made her more weepy than she even knew was possible.
How can it be love? You don’t even know what his favorite color is—where he buys his shoes from, how he takes his coffee
—

The color of your eyes, Milan, black
.

She blinked, wondering how those answers had popped into her head, how she’d known these things. He smiled and said, “You can take a shower first. I think I have enough eggs to make a couple of omelets.”

He seems to know me better than I know myself
, she thought. The bathroom was spare—the most notable feature was that the bathtub and sink were both carved out of one solid block of white marble, streaked with gray. Or at the very least, they were very convincing fakes.

The water pelted her body, hot and cleansing. When she was finished her hair smelled like his orange-mint shampoo and her body smelled like the cucumber-lemon body wash, but somehow the guilt had been washed away. She was a grown woman, there was nothing to be ashamed of—

But you liked it
.

And what if I did?

One wall was a full-length mirror, and she stood in front of it for a long time when she got out, wondering how she could have become the person she’d been last night and still look exactly the same as she did this morning. Her body was the same it’d always been, her face was the same it’d always been—

But her eyes—she realized that she’d been staring into her own eyes in the mirror for almost the entire time. There was an intensity about them that Malcolm had somehow managed to unlock, a strength that she found both extraordinary and yet unsettling. She dressed, feeling strangely out of place in her clothes, as if they belonged to someone else, even though they fit perfectly.

How can one night change me so much?

There was a new clarity of purpose, now, and as she walked into the kitchen her feelings about Reid and Rigel and Bill and Eco Energy became clear: she had control. That was what mattered. Malcolm was waiting for her in the kitchen, an omelet, perfectly folded and browned, on a plate. “I hope you like cheese,” he said, as he handed her a plate. His phone, which he’d left on the counter the night before, pinged. On it, she noted, was a news bulletin: the Matrix had failed to get Congressional approval.

“Aren’t you going to have some?” she asked.

“I already ate. You were in there for a really long time,” he added. “Is everything all right?”

She blinked at him. She didn’t think the changes were that obvious. But then again, he wouldn’t have offered himself the way he did if he couldn’t read her like an open book. “Everything’s fine,” she said.

He squinted at her as he poured her a cup of coffee. “Are you sure?” he asked. “You seem, well, different.”

“I feel different,” she said. “I feel like I’m in control of things for the first time in my life. It’s kind of scary, but—I think I like it,” she said.

Malcolm raised his eyebrow and smiled at her over his coffee cup.

“I want you to end your accounts with Rigel, or at the very least, get a new account manager,” she said, suddenly.

“Done,” he said. He tapped his phoneand in thirty seconds he’d sent an email that was probably going to fuck over Reid’s entire career.

Oh well—maybe if he’d been nicer
. Then again, if he had been nicer, she might not have been here. The universe worked in strange ways.

“And I want to go to Scotland.”

“Flight plans take about twenty-four hours to clear,” he said, tapping away at his phone.

“And I want to see what’s in that drawer.”

He looked up, surprised. But then, unexpectedly, he smiled. “You know what, I think I will,” he said. “Come with me. But I have to warn you: you’ll probably like it.”

“I’m counting on it,” she said, taking his arm.

THE END

She’d been fascinating from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Everything about her, from her pale skin to the dusting of freckles across her nose had intrigued him. There were nights when he stole away to hold in her in his arms, and he’d try to count those freckles. His Sara. The women that surrounded him bowed their heads in respect, but Sara was different. She wasn’t just American different, but she was simply unique. In his years studying abroad, he’d focused solely on his studies. But the moment she’d bumped into him in the coffee shop and spilled the searing hot liquid all over his books, he’d been smitten. It was like the start to a beautiful romantic movie.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” She stared at him and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I haven’t slept all night. I’m like a zombie.”

“It’s okay,” he said smoothly as he tried to clean his books with the sleeve of his shirt. “Please don’t stress about it.”

“No, please. I need to make it up to you. I’d buy you a cup of coffee, but I’m already late for class.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a piece of paper. After scribbling furiously on it, she handed it to him. “This is my number. Please text me this evening and let me know when you’re free.”

Raising an eyebrow, he glanced over the paper. “Sara?”

“Yes, that’s my name.” Glancing at the clock, she gasped. “I am so late. I’m so sorry. Please. Call me.” She gave him one more apologetic look and bolted.

Women gave him their numbers all the time. Maybe it was his exotic dark skin or his prominent cheekbones, but finding dates had never been a problem for him. But she had barely glanced at him.

Staring at her retreating back, he folded the piece of paper and stuck it in his pocket. He was far too busy to call her, but maybe, if he found the time, he’d try to get to know this Sara a little better.

“Kamal, I am talking to you!”

Torn from his memories, Kamal pushed away from the window and turned to stare at his father. Nahid Al-Basir’s face was contorted in anger. “Have you not heard a word that I just said, boy?”

Kamal straightened. His culture dictated that he show his father respect, and he bowed his head in reverence. “I apologize father. I have much on my mind.”

Nahid sighed. “It’s fine, Kamal. Your head has been filled with dreams ever since you returned from America. I wonder if we did not make a mistake by sending you there.”

Kamal didn’t answer. If his father hadn’t sent him, he would have never met Sara. “Not dreams, father. My head is full of ideas for the future. And you would not be so quick to dismiss my time in America if you knew of the contacts that I had made there. I can expand our business two-fold.”

Beaming, Nahid clapped his son on the back. “That’s my boy. Now then, there is something I am here to discuss. As you know, you’re reaching your twenty-sixth birthday next week. There will be a special lady in attendance that I need you to pay particular attention to.”

Special lady? Kamal narrowed his eyes. “Who?”

“Jada will be there.”

“Jada? Your partner’s daughter?”

Nahid’s eyes widened in delight. “You remember her! Excellent!”

Kamal tried to catch his breath. “I have not seen her since we were children. I did not know she was back in Moracco.”

“She’s back, and she’s here to stay.” Nahid had a suspicious twinkle in his eye. “I’ve seen pictures. She’s grown into the attractive woman.”

“Father, what have you done?”

He only shook his head and grinned. “Your party will be the biggest event of the city. And you will be slayed when you feast your eyes upon her. Now then, your mother would like to see you before dinner tonight. I have a meeting that I have to attend, and I’m not sure I’ll be home in time to eat. Remind your mother to leave me some leftovers. You know she fusses when I miss dinner.”

Slapping Kamal on the shoulder again, he turned and continued down the hall. Kamal sighed and turned back to the window. His view was absolutely breathtaking. As one of the wealthier families in the city, the mansion overlooked the ornate and expansive architecture of the city below. Despite the sand and the sun, his mother kept an oases surrounding their home, and she made sure every leaf was in impeccable condition. The home was breathtaking. The view was incredible.

But Kamal had spent so much time looking at it that it didn’t even move him anymore. Secretly, he expected that he was meant for more than this, but when Sara had left him, he could only return home and face the life his parents had chosen for him.

Jada. His father’s business partner and his father had pushed Jada and Kamal to play as kids. They didn’t realize their expectations at the time. In truth, they’d barely gotten along. In his mind, Jada had been a stubborn brat that talked too much and tried to boss him around. Looking back, he realized now that the two men had hoped for a union. But then Jada had gone away to school at an early age, and he’d never seen her again.

It wasn’t good news that she was back now. He could only imagine the schemes dancing in his father’s mind. He didn’t care how beautiful she might be now. The woman that he loved was oceans away.