Sheikh's Purchased Princess (8 page)

Instead, she simply sat and tried to keep her mind off of Adnan and what he was doing, what danger he could possibly be in where he needed a gun.

She would never have thought that she would be able to sleep in this condition, but somehow, between a frantic worry that ate at her mind and a fear that threatened to drive her mad, she did.

She awoke to find the hotel room bathed in darkness and the sound of boisterous men in the hall.

That's a surprise,
she thought, reaching to turn on the light.
It's been close to silence since I’ve been here.

The noise got louder, and then before she could figure out how she wanted to react, the door slammed open. For a moment, she was stiff with terror, but when she realized that two men had Adnan's arms around their shoulders and his bulk slung between them, she lost all caution.

“Oh my god, Adnan,” she cried, rushing to him. Surely he was too limp. Had he been hurt?

“Ah, the little beauty!” he said, and there was a slurring to his words that made her pull back.

“Put him on the couch,” one of the men said shortly. “He's too damn heavy to carry further.”

For some reason, Adnan seemed to think that that was hilarious, protesting that he could walk. When he straightened, he tugged the two men holding him along, and they restrained him only with difficulty. When he landed on the couch, he seemed content to stay there, his head lolling back. The one who had spoken before shook his head before turning to Emily.

“He demanded that we bring him here. The medic on site cleared him after patching him up and giving him a painkiller, but at this point, we are very pleased to make him your problem.”

“
My
problem…” said Emily helplessly. “Who are you? For that matter, who is he?”

The man who had been speaking looked at her with a frown.

“The men in front of you—some of us are military, some of us are Nahr's secret service. The man who made today's operation a success while also making it about as dangerous as it could be to himself, is Adnan ibn Arif al-Mahsi, sheikh of Nahr.”

Emily was certain that she looked as appalled as she felt, but the men in question had apparently had as much of Adnan as they wanted to deal with for the moment. With the reassurance that they were leaving two guards outside the door, they left, off to do some apparently well-deserved carousing. Which left her alone with…

When she turned around in the sudden quiet, Emily realized that Adnan was watching her with a smile on his face.

“Well then, Sheikh Adnan,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, “you came back.”

He grinned at her, gesturing her closer. When she went, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her hips. Despite the painkiller, he moved almost as quickly as he ever had, with a speed that would have been disconcerting if she felt any threat from him at all.

“I have returned to you, beautiful little one,” he said, his tone extravagant. “Are you pleased to see me?”

“I am,” she said, not bothering to hide the relief in her voice. “Will you tell me what you were doing today, finally?”

He shrugged, and for a moment, she was taken by the breadth and strength of his shoulders. He was a powerful man, it seemed, in every sense of the word.

“Razorback. A slaver. We knew we could lure him out. After he thought I could be trusted with one girl, he was willing to show me others.”

Emily's eyes widened as she realized what he meant. She hadn't actually been bought? It had been a trick of some kind?

“Adnan…”

“I would have bought you,” he said, gazing up at her, a strange light in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asked, startled.

“If I had seen you. Like the sheikhs of old. Saw you in a slaver's caravan, I would have seen your hair, and then your eyes, and then…and then you probably would have opened that sweet mouth to bite me…and I would have been lost.”

Emily started to make a rather tart response to that, but then he leaned back, dragging her down on top of him.

“I was afraid,” he said quietly. “I was afraid that there was a chance I would never see you again.”

“I haven't gone anywhere,” she said, slightly nonsensically.

In that moment, all she could do was look into his eyes. They were so dark that they might as well have been black. Perhaps some time ago, she might have thought that would make a man seem cold, but now it only made her feel as if she were drowning in him, as if she could fall into him and never be seen again.

The ghost of a smile whisked across his face. “Good,” he whispered.

She felt his large hand cup the back of her skull, bringing her close. It felt like something important, like a bridge built between two souls who were nothing but different. Willingly, she bent her head down to kiss him. There was a strange solemnity to it, and it made her think of pagan marriage ceremonies, where there was no officiant but silence, no community but each other.

After a moment, however, she felt the lightest touch of his tongue on her lips, gentle, sweet, and inquisitive. He was ready to hear a no, and that was why it was so easy for her to give him a yes. Of her own will, she deepened the kiss, opening her mouth so that he could slide his tongue inside. She expected a nearly violent desire, something that would break over her like a thunderstorm. Instead this was soft and sweet, something with a powerful fire, but restrained.

After a moment of hesitation, Emily gave herself up to the kiss, resting her body against his…and that was when she felt the bandage.

“Oh god, you're hurt!” she exclaimed, leaping back. He reached for her but missed, and that alone told her how much they had drugged him.

“A scratch and nothing more,” he said magnanimously. “The damned doctor refused to listen when I told him that there were others who needed his aid far more than I did.”

Emily snorted. “I have known plenty of men who would say similar things, and I know that they think that they can walk off broken legs.”

He started to answer, but then her hands were on his shirt buttons, undoing them with a sure speed. She might have been a virgin, but when it came to injuries, there was no time for shyness.

“I could get used to this,” he said with a grin, but she was already looking at the large wad of gauze taped securely to his shoulder.

“Were you shot?” she asked, her voice soft and horrified. She was relieved when he shook his head, but his next words removed that relief entirely.

“No. Big bastard came at me with a knife. I turned right into it—he was going to stab me in the back.”

Emily wanted to cover her face with her hands. It was too horrible to be real, but all too easy to imagine. The dark figure coming up behind Adnan, his sudden spin which saved his life but gave him this wound.

“You should be resting,” she murmured, and he shrugged. Despite his good humor, however, she could tell that he was slower than he should have been, far less alert. Whatever was going to happen between them, it could not happen now.

“Time to rest when I am dead,” he said, but at least he didn't fight her when she led him to the bedroom. If Emily were being honest with herself, she would have had literally no options if he
had
decided to fight her.

He watched her with a grin as she took off his shirt, leaving him bare chested. Then she paused, unsure of how to proceed.

“You will be more comfortable in nothing at all, I think,” she stated, and his grin, despite the haze of the painkillers, became slightly more predatory.

“You're welcome to remove whatever you like,” he said. “I certainly won't stop you.”

A rational woman might have told him that that was fine—he would simply be sleeping in his pants that evening. When she had come so close to losing him, however, she wasn't sure that she could bear to say that.

Emily knew it wasn't just that. When she went to remove his shoes and socks before tugging his pants down, she could feel her hands shake. With every inch of bronze skin she revealed, Emily wanted more. Finally, when he was stripped down to his silk boxers, she forced herself to back away.

“There,” she said, aware that her face was pink with far more than exertion. “Now lie down.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and it was painfully obvious that even in his weakened state, there was no way for her to force him at all.

“Only if you lie down with me,” he retorted, and she bit her lip.

“If I lie down with you, do you promise to try to sleep?” she asked. “And it's…not…not just a ploy to…”

“Ravish your innocence?” he asked. “I have thought about it…a great deal, but no. If you lie down next to me, I will, in good faith, try to get some rest.”

That seemed rational enough, and Emily was just crawling into bed when he spoke again.

“Provided, of course, that you get undressed as well. I am sorry, I would undress you myself…”

“That's quite enough,” she said, and for a moment, she simply looked at him. Just twenty-four hours ago, she would have felt a thrill of danger go through her. She had known this man for such a short amount of time. She would have said that there was no way for her to feel as safe with him as she did but…

But she did. She did feel safe with him, and that was why, never breaking eye contact with him, she started to strip. His dark eyes went wide when her white dress dropped down to the floor, and then, with as matter-of-fact a grace as she could muster, she undid her bra. She stood in front of him in nothing but her panties, resisting the urge to cover her soft, round breasts with her hands. Instead, she lifted her chin at him, forcing herself to speak calmly and clearly.

“Well?” she asked. “Are you ready to keep up your end of the bargain?”

His dark eyes slid along her curves. Adnan all but licked his lips, but he nodded.

“God in heaven, you drive a hard bargain, but yes. Yes, we should sleep now. Come here.”

The humor had gone out of his voice, and when she came to lie down beside him, he sighed with pleasure and turned to cuddle her. It was as if they had been sharing a bed for years. She relished the weight of his arm over her waist, the warmth of his breath against her ear.

“Good night, Adnan,” she whispered, and when he didn’t answer her, she knew that he was asleep.

He’s safe, he’s safe,
she thought, like a prayer, and exhausted by her own worry, she drifted off as well.

Emily was aware of an overwhelming feeling of warmth as she swam upwards into consciousness. Somehow, in the floating moments before she opened her eyes, she knew that she was safe. There was nothing in the world that could hurt her in this moment.

She blinked sleepily, and when she could focus, her gaze was full of Adnan, propped up on one elbow and looking down at her.

“Good morning,” she said softly, but in response, he only touched her hair, trailing a gentle finger down her face. There was something oddly possessive yet tender about the movement, as if they had done this for years.

“I dreamed of you,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble. “I dreamed of waking up to you. Is it strange to have a dream of waking?”

“I heard once it is good luck,” she murmured.

Without thinking of what she was doing, she reached up to trace her fingertips down the side of his face, echoing his touch. She could feel the softness of his skin, the brush of stubble under her fingers, his pulse beating out the rhythm of life under her gentle touch.

Afterward, she wasn’t sure who had moved first. All she knew was that the space between them shrank to nothing as they were pulled towards one another. There was a kind of gravity here that could not be denied, and she was tired of fighting it. His mouth on hers was gentle, but there was no stopping what was between them this time. She couldn't imagine stopping it.

The kiss went on and on. Emily pressed against Adnan, that feeling of warmth and safety mingled with the first sparks of a pleasure she knew was hers for the taking. It had danced between them for so long, and now that it was actually coming, she was afraid that she might burn to a crisp underneath it.

With a soft groan of appreciation, Adnan rolled her underneath him. He carried his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing her; instead, it only made her more aware of him, his body, the sheer bulk of his strength.

“I can't believe how good you feel,” he murmured, looking down at her. “I want to devour you…”

“I want you to devour me,” she whispered, and it was as if she had released a beast off his chain.

Suddenly, his mouth was on hers, rough and claiming, and when she reached up to touch his face, he pinned her arms to the bed beside her. Instead of making her frightened, it only aroused her more deeply, making her press up against him with need.

“So beautiful,” he murmured between kisses. “So utterly perfect and so utterly mine…”

He wasn't content to just kiss her mouth. Instead, his lips moved to her throat and then down to the gentle rise of her breasts. It was as if her flesh remembered how good he felt. She could feel those tingles of pleasure start again, traveling to the very core of her. His touch seemed to wake her up in a way that she had never considered before, and all she could do was moan and press herself up against him.

“I have wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured. “I worry that I cannot be as gentle as you need.”

“I don't need you to be gentle. I just need you,” Emily murmured, and her reward was a hand that slid down her side, over the curve of her hip. Adnan worked his way down her body, kissing her soft skin as he went. She could hear his rush of words, praising the softness of her skin, the sweetness of flesh. She wanted nothing more than to touch him, to make him feel what she was feeling, but his expert touch raised her pleasure to such a height that it was all she could think of. She could do nothing but writhe under him as he kissed the flat plane of her belly, the rounded curves of her thighs.

She barely knew what he was doing when he coaxed her legs open, parting them gently so that he could reach the heat of her desire.

Emily hazily thought that he might touch her as he did before, running his fingers along her inner thighs and higher, but when she felt his mouth graze over her mound, she whimpered with shock, trying to close her legs.