At the Sheikh's Bidding(7)

His unexpected  desire for Erin was an inconvenience. Her legal status   as Kazim's mother  was a much bigger problem. But there was a simple   solution. She had  sounded convincing when she'd stated that she loved   the child, but  everything had its price-even love.

‘We can deal with the  situation in one of two ways,' he informed her   coolly. ‘The first is for  me to gather the best lawyers I can find and   fight you through the  courts for custody of Kazim. The drawback is  that  any legal process  takes time, and my father is eighty years old  and  desperate to meet his  grandson as soon as possible. That is why I  am  prepared to offer you an  extremely generous settlement in return  for my  brother's son.'

Now  he looked at her, watched her beautiful grey eyes cloud with   confusion  as she slowly walked forward and took the cheque he held out   to her. Her  fingers trembled as she glanced down at it, and the colour   drained from  her face.

‘I don't understand,' Erin said huskily. Her brain  could not take in   the number of noughts he had written after the figure,  and she blinked   to clear her vision. When she looked again she realised  that she was   not mistaken. Disbelief quickly gave way to disgust, and  anger crashed   through her, so violent in its intensity that that her  whole body   shook. ‘Are you trying to buy Kazim?'

‘I am offering  you a chance to resume your life without the   responsibilities of caring  for a child who is not yours,' Zahir replied   with deadly calm-in direct  contrast to the fury flashing in her eyes.   ‘You are young and  extraordinarily beautiful,' he observed  clinically,  his voice devoid of  emotion. ‘And, since my brother's  death, single.'  Although he would bet  his personal fortune that she  would not remain so  for long, he thought  grimly, watching the faint  tremor of her lower  lip and imagining the  velvet softness of her mouth  beneath his. ‘I  imagine that dating with a  toddler in tow could prove   rather … inhibiting,' he drawled sardonically.                       
       
           



       

‘I  have no intention of dating anyone,' Erin choked, still reeling from    his description of her as beautiful. Astounding as it seemed, the   Sheikh  appeared to find her attractive-but from the coldness of his   tone he  clearly resented his awareness of her. ‘I haven't even thought   about  anything like that … ' Kazim was her world, and there was no room   in her  heart for anyone but him.

‘Perhaps not yet,' Zahir conceded. ‘It  is only three weeks since my   brother died. But at some point you will  want to satisfy your sexual   urges. I would guess that you possess a  deeply sensual nature,' he   remarked, in that same coldly clinical tone  that was so at odds with   the heat in his gaze as he trailed a blatantly  appreciative path down   her body. ‘Kazim will become an encumbrance, and I  refuse to allow him   to spend his childhood forced to vie for your  attention with your   latest lover.'

‘I don't want a lover!' Erin shook her head wildly, her temper heating to boiling point.

Zahir  made her sound like a rampant nymphomaniac, with his talk about   her  sensual nature and needing to satisfy her sexual urges. Little did   he  know! She was about as sensual as a limp lettuce, and she had never    experienced the faintest urge to have sex with any man-until today, a    voice in her head taunted. She ignored it and allowed her anger to  build   as she dwelled on his disgusting offer to buy Kazim from her.  She   stared down at the cheque, and the row of scrawled noughts, and  felt   sick.

‘Get out!' she breathed as she ripped the cheque into pieces with controlled savagery. ‘Kazim is not for sale.'

Zahir  showed no reaction, merely stood surveying her disdainfully from    beneath raised brows, his lip curled in a derisive smile that snapped    her control so that she flung the pieces of cheque at him. ‘How dare  you   come into my house and demand that I hand you my child?' She   emphasised  each word by jabbing her finger into Zahir's chest, uncaring   that he  towered menacingly over her. ‘Faisal begged me to adopt his   son, and now  I know why. You are an arrogant, overbearing bully, and I   will do  everything possible to prevent you from having any role in   Kazim's  life.'


‘Enough!' The authority in Zahir's icy command sliced  through her   furious tirade, and she gasped when he seized her hand,  which was still   raised to his chest, and jerked her so that her body  slammed hard up   against his. ‘You will not talk to me in that insolent  tone.'

‘I will talk to you in whatever tone I like, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.'

Zahir  fought to control the murderous rage coursing through him. Never   in his  life had he been so insulted. He couldn't believe Erin had   actually  prodded him. If she had been a man, retribution would have   been swift  and deadly. But she was a woman-a woman who needed a few   lessons in  respect.

She was glaring up at him, her grey eyes stormy and her  cheeks stained   with angry colour. Her wild red curls formed a fiery halo  around her   face and he pictured her lying beneath him, flushed and  furious, daring   him to kiss her …

With a savage oath he lowered  his head, forcing her slender neck back   as he captured her mouth in a  kiss that sought to dominate and   subjugate her to his will. This had  been building from the moment she   had stared at him across the library  and he had recognised the   undisguised hunger in her eyes. Sexual  attraction at its most   primitive-and they were both caught in its spell.

‘No!' Erin's cry of protest was lost beneath the punishing force of Zahir's lips as he ground them against hers.

How  dared he kiss her? How dared he slide his arm around her waist and   drag  her even closer against the rock-hard wall of his muscular chest?   His  other hand moved up to cup her nape and angle her head so that he   could  plunder her mouth with humiliating ease. Beneath his civilised   veneer  Zahir bin Kahlid al Muntassir was a barbarian: frighteningly   powerful  and supremely masculine. His arms felt like steel bands   holding her  fast, and when he forced his tongue between her lips she   moaned and  tried to turn her head to evade his ruthless assault.

Her  attempts to resist him were futile. The blows she rained on him   with her  bunched fists had no impact. Finally she laid her hands flat   on his  chest, unable to fight him any more. He must have sensed her   submission,  because he eased the pressure of his lips a fraction and   the stroke of  his tongue inside her mouth became a slow, sensual   exploration.

Suddenly  each of her senses seemed acutely alive. She could feel the   heat of his  body through his fine silk shirt, and the mingled scents of   his cologne  and male pheromones caused a curious weakness in her   limbs. Her anger  was dissipating, giving way to another emotion she had   never experienced  before: a slow, insidious excitement that unlocked   her taut muscles so  that she stopped trying to pull away from him and   instead melted into  him.                       
       
           



       

Her eyes flew open in shock when she felt the hard ridge of  his arousal   push insistently against her belly. What was the matter with  her? she   wondered, appalled at her shaming weakness. Zahir was a  tyrant-a man   used to always having his own way, according to Gordon  Straker. She   despised his arrogance. But the pressure of his hand on her  spine was   forcing her body into intimate contact with his, and nothing  else   seemed to matter except that he should carry on kissing her.

She  felt his hand slide down to her bottom and then round, over her   hip,  smoothing a tantalising path up to her ribcage, where it came to   rest  just below her breast. Heat flooded through her veins and she felt   her  breasts swell, felt her nipples tighten in anticipation beneath   her tee  shirt. He only had to move his hand a little further … In an   agony of  excitement she pressed closer to him, her body trembling with   desire.