The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7) (9 page)

His kiss became more urgent, even more insistent and she responded by snaking her fingers into his hair. She tugged at his hair with a sharp, almost shocking abruptness. Galvanic pleasure traced a line throughout his torso, and he felt himself harden, sensed pressure growing inside himself.

Zarif cupped her breast, feeling the firmness of it, enjoying the shape of it. Her shape. And he realized he wanted to explore her shape even more. He knew he had wanted to discover her delights every day these past two weeks. He wondered if now was the time, if they had reached a point when they could open up to each other.

Rachel pressed against him, answering his need with her own, and his mind emptied, all thought evaporating under the onslaught of sensation that her sudden eagerness had ignited in him.

Zarif wrapped an arm around Rachel's back and drew her hard against him. Her breasts pressed against his chest. He opened his eyes and gazed at her for a moment and saw that her eyes were closed. She seemed lost in a miasma of ecstasy. He moved his lips down to her neck and tasted her flesh there, inhaling the sweetness of her perfume, hurling himself into the same lost world that Rachel was now inhabiting.

Zarif heard her groan as he ran his tongue up the exquisite length of her neck, finding that delicate spot behind her ear. He felt her quiver in his arms. For a moment he was consumed by an insane wish never to let her go. She belonged here in his arms. His mind forced the truth into his awareness once again.

This was the only place he wanted to be. She was the only woman he wanted to be with.
 

Tasting, sensing, feeling.
 

Loving.

That thought stunned him momentarily with its abruptness, with its sheer, obvious truth. He felt a momentary hesitation. What if Rachel was as he suspected? What if she was wholly innocent? Unspoiled? Dare he step over that line? Dare he break down that barrier between them?
 

His mind flashed onto the consequences of that choice. A mixture of anticipation and hesitation seized him. He felt himself straighten, sensed a sudden distance.

However, in the next moment, the inevitable happened, and there was nothing he could do to combat it, to defy the urges that rose within him.

Rachel twisted in his embrace, gasping. She traced a hand down the front of his chest, curling fingers into his flesh and, once again, he was lost in pleasure, abandoning all thought, every hope of rational thinking.

He kissed her, crashing his lips down upon hers, a punishing, insistent need coursing through his body. He'd moved beyond a point of return and sensed within himself that now was the moment.

Zarif leaned away from her and twisted his torso. Rachel's fingers slipped away from his chest, her hand dropping down to her side and she gazed at him, her eyes drowsy looking with desire. Seeing her expression stiffened his resolve and he scooped her body up and lifted her off the seat.

Rachel squealed and smiled as Zarif stood upright, easing her weight into his arms. She felt light in his grasp, her body pressing against his midriff. Zarif smiled at her, and she gazed up at him, reaching one arm up, settling it across the back of his shoulders.

Rachel looked out across the balcony. "You going to throw me over the edge?" she joked.

Zarif felt his nostril flare, and he fixed her with an intense gaze. "That's not the edge I have in mind."

He saw her eyes widen as she realized what were his real intentions.
 

Zarif strode around the sofa and carried Rachel back into the sitting room. He glanced down at her and suddenly saw a change had taken hold of her expression. Her jaw had tightened into a firm line, and there was a clear thoughtfulness in her narrowing eyes. Maybe he'd miscalculated, he told himself as he strode across the sitting room, only one destination in mind. The doubts that had tugged at him moments before, flickered back into his mind.

Rachel still held onto him, still had one of her hands clutched firmly against his shoulder. But it was clear to him that her own mind had been seized by doubt, by hesitation. His simple declaration had broken the spell, he realized, cursing himself for his lack of sensitivity.
 

A few more steps and they were in the hallway. Zarif slowed, pausing in front of the bedroom door and glanced down at Rachel. Her eyes were averted as if she was trying to hide something from him. It was the first time all night that she had drawn her attention away from him, and the sight of it made emotion tighten his throat. Desire had drifted away to be replaced by a tightening knot of regret.

Zarif eased Rachel down, and she planted her feet on the soft carpet, straightening in front of him, tugging nervously at her dress. Her gaze flashed up at him, and he saw more than a hint of awkwardness, a flicker of the same regret that had flamed inside himself.

Rachel cleared her throat and tidied her tousled hair.
 

Zarif sucked in a deep breath and straightened himself, desperate to regain some measure of composure. He glanced at the closed bedroom door and suddenly felt that being anywhere would be better than standing here like this.

Zarif glanced back toward the sitting room. "Would you like another drink?" he asked awkwardly realizing just how cracked his voice sounded.

Rachel nodded quickly. Too quickly he thought.

Zarif headed back into the sitting room and turned, expecting to see Rachel following him. But, she was still standing in the hallway. Her features were set firm, brows furrowed, lips thin, jaw tight. He knew what she was about to tell him.

"You know what, Zarif? I'm a little tired," she said starting to move toward him. "I think it would be best if I get going," she added.

Zarif merely nodded, accepting the inevitable.
 

He watched Rachel pause, as if expecting him to make the next move.

"Of course, Rachel," he blurted out. "I'll call the limo." He looked questioningly at her. "Assuming you want the driver to take you home?"

Rachel nodded but said nothing.

He called the driver and watched Rachel fetch her clutch. He could see the tightness in her fingers with the way she held onto the purse.

Zarif moved toward Rachel. "Rachel. Can I explain...?" he started to say but she cut him off with a look.

"It's okay, Zarif. You don't need to explain anything. It's been a wonderful evening. I've enjoyed it very much," she said.
 

He could hear the emotion in her voice, see the lingering embers of desire that hovered in her gaze. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he knew they had moved beyond that with the idiotic way he had handled the whole situation.
 

He followed Rachel out of the apartment and along the hallway to the lift doors. Rachel pressed the button and turned to Zarif. "I think we have an appointment tomorrow, don't we?" she said.

Zarif felt his brows furrow. "Appointment?"

"That apartment in Mayfair?"

Zarif recalled they'd arranged a viewing for the next day. It all seemed so trivial now, especially after what had almost taken place back in his apartment.

"Unless you'd prefer that Abby shows you the apartment," she said.

Zarif frowned. "Of course, I expect you to carry out the viewing with me, as we arranged," he declared.

Was that relief he'd just seen flicker across her features?

Rachel nodded, obviously trying to restore some order to the proceedings.
 

The lift door opened, and Rachel glanced at him. Was she waiting for him to kiss her goodnight? He leaned forward and she twisted, transforming the gesture into a mere air kiss, just like the one they'd exchanged on her arrival.

Then she was inside the lift, and the doors were closing and all Zarif could think of was what a fool he had been, and what he had to do to truly claim the woman he'd just foolishly let slip through his fingers.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Rachel, I need you to get ready. We're taking a trip tomorrow," Abby announced.
 

Rachel looked up from her desk. "A trip?"

Abby nodded and dug a hand into her hip. "We're going to Paris to meet a potential client."

"Paris?" Rachel asked almost incredulous.
 

There was an edge to her boss' voice. Rachel wondered what could be causing that. She'd noticed it since arriving late this morning, but she'd done the only sensible thing she could think of by keeping her head down and working hard.

Rachel was puzzled about Abby's suggestion that she accompany her to Paris. On overseas visits, Abby normally took Alice with her. So, why was Abby taking Rachel?

Rachel knew she should have been excited at the prospect of a trip to Paris. But she wasn't. It meant she'd be separated from Zarif. She knew it would probably mean he'd return to Qazhar empty handed as far as properties were concerned. It meant there would be no more secret meetings, no more chances for her to get to know more about him; no more chances to be alone with him.
 

Her mind drifted back to the previous night. They'd come so close, she realized. She had almost crossed a line, one she had drawn for herself, one no man had ever been able to tempt her to cross.

But, Zarif was different. She'd realized that many times during the past two weeks. After last night, she was even more convinced that he was utterly unique, a man who had the potential to turn her world upside down.

That single thought made her feel a dangerous mixture of temptation and anxiety. She'd never before felt such a potent cocktail of emotions.

"Rachel. Are you listening?" she heard Abby demand. "Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into you these past few days," Abby stated.
 

Rachel squinted up at her boss. "I guess I've just been working so hard, Abby," Rachel said, trying to contain the hint of sarcasm in her voice.

Abby frowned, taking note of Rachel's brief moment of rebellion.

Rachel glanced across and saw Alice lower her head, a scandalized smile on her face. Rachel saw Abby glance over at Alice and scowl.
 

"What do you need me to do, Abby?" Rachel asked quickly. She seized a pen and pad, readying herself to take notes.

Abby paced back and forth in front of Rachel's desk, ticking off a list of tasks which Rachel would have to do that morning. Finally, Rachel couldn't resist the impulse which had been tugging at her since Abby had started to speak.

"What about Sheikh Zarif?" Rachel asked.

Abby froze on the spot and glared at Rachel. "What about him?" she blurted out sharply.

Rachel hesitated, trying to find a diplomatic way to broach the subject of the man who had been her secret companion these past few days. "Who's going to deal with him while we're gone?"

Abby waved a dismissive hand. "I've already dealt with that," she stated.

"Really?" Rachel asked, wondering why her boss looked so annoyed. Had something happened between her and Zarif? Had he finally made clear to Abby just what he thought of her? If that was the case, Rachel couldn't even begin to imagine how that conversation had ended except without at least some disappointment for Rachel's boss.

"I offered Alice as an alternative to you, Rachel. But, for some reason the Sheikh wasn't exactly happy with that suggestion," Abby said.
 

Rachel saw Abby's brows furrow. There was definitely more going on than Abby was willing to reveal to Rachel.

"What did he say?" Rachel asked.
 

Abby frowned at Rachel. "What does it matter to you what he said?" Abby said sharply.

"I only thought..." Rachel started to say, but Abby cut her off abruptly.

"I don't pay you to think, Rachel," Abby said. "I pay you to persuade clients to buy properties. Or, at least, that was what I thought you were doing with Sheikh Zarif."

Rachel glared at her boss, shocked at the tone of voice. For a moment both women stared at each other. Rachel was momentarily lost for words. Abby had never spoken to her like that before. Rachel saw Abby's jaw tighten, saw the deliberation behind her boss' eyes. There was definitely something more going on, Rachel told herself.

Rachel stood up. "If you're unhappy with my work, Abby, then why don't you just come out and say so," Rachel declared.

Abby's gaze locked on Rachel. "You seem to have been doing very well for yourself these past couple of weeks."

"What does that mean?" Rachel demanded. She moved around the desk and faced Abby.
 

Her boss stood her ground. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Rachel," Abby said.

Then Abby did something which triggered a wave of indignation in Rachel, an unsettling rush of outrage which Rachel struggled immediately to contain. Abby's gaze eased slowly from Rachel's face all the way down her body. There was disdain and contempt in that look. Rachel felt it in her bones, felt the barely disguised condescension in Abby's eyes.

Rachel refused to flinch, defiantly holding her ground as her boss tried so hard to belittle her. Rachel felt her jaw tighten and watched Abby's gaze move back up to Rachel's resisting glare.
 

Abby smiled sarcastically. "It seems you've been busy after all. Maybe not with what I had in mind." Abby scowled and glared at Rachel. "But, busy nevertheless."

"What are you talking about?" Rachel asked.

Abby exhaled disbelievingly. "You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Sheikh Zarif made it very clear to me this morning when I spoke to him."

"You spoke to him?" Rachel asked feeling panic take sudden hold of her.
 

Abby nodded and turned away from Rachel. She could see her boss was deliberating what to say next. Rachel felt her heart race faster, heard her pulse roar suddenly in her ears. What was Abby going to say? What had Zarif said? If he had spoken to Abby then sure he must know that Rachel was planning to leave London with Abby.

"Excuse me for a moment," Alice said quickly rising from her desk and grabbing her bag. "I've got some printing to collect."