Carrying the Sheikh's Heir(61)

                He was a man who’d lived an imperfect life, who’d experienced pain and loss and incredible sadness. He was also lonely, and that loneliness called to her because it was so familiar. He took care of everyone else first—his nation, his duties—and whatever was left over he gave to himself. But it wasn’t much.

                For a man who was rich in material things, he was sorely lacking in emotional fulfillment.

                “We have to start somewhere,” he said softly.

                Oh, how she wanted to accept, to let him know he didn’t need to be alone. But the risk...

                “I can’t go to bed with you now only to have you freeze me out later.”

                “I don’t want to freeze you out.”

                “But you do. You have.”

                “I know.”

                But he tugged her hand until she had to move right up against him. And then he speared his other hand into her hair and lowered his mouth to hers. She didn’t stop him. She closed her eyes, and then his lips met hers and she sighed. He kissed her sweetly, so sweetly, and yet the heat swelled inside her, rolled through her, intensified with each gentle stroke of his tongue against hers.

                “I won’t get up and go back to my room in the middle of the night,” she said between kisses. “I won’t, Rashid.”

                “I understand.” And then he kissed her deeper, harder, until the passion unfurled between them, until he pushed her back on the couch and shaped her body with his hands, exploring her curves endlessly.

                She thought he would undress her there, but he soon lifted her up and pulled her outside onto the terrace. It was a beautiful night, not too cool yet, with stars winking over the dunes. He took her to the railing and stood there gazing out over the darkened desert. Behind them, the city lights tinted the sky, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the vast darkness before them.

                “I left Kyr for many years,” he said, standing behind her at the railing and putting his arms around her, caging her in. “I gave up the expectation I would become king when I was a young man. I wandered the world, and I started my own business, which I built into the powerful oil company it is today. I became who I am because of my life here in Kyr. And one thing I vowed many years ago was that no child of mine would ever believe I did not love or approve of him. Or her.”

                He turned her in his arms then and she gazed up at him with eyes blurred with tears. “I believed you the first time you said it,” she said softly.

                “Yes, but I wanted you to know that I was certain. This child will not lack for love.”

                Sheridan swallowed the lump in her throat. She wanted to ask him if there could ever be love between them, but she knew it was not a question he wanted to hear. He’d told her he chose not to love, not that he was incapable of it, and so that gave her hope.

                She put a hand to his cheek and watched his eyes darken. “You’re a good man, Rashid. And I know you’ll be a good father.”

                He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. “You will want for nothing here, habibti. I know this is not the life you would have chosen, but I believe you will come to love Kyr as I do.”

                “I hope I do,” she said, her heart pounding at the realization she could love so much more than Kyr if he would let her.

                He kissed her suddenly. And this time he did not stop. This time, he kissed her until she was melting and pliant, and then he swept her into his arms—how many times had he done this now, and why did it thrill her every time he did?—and carried her into his bedroom, where he undressed her slowly, kissing and caressing each bit of skin he revealed, until she was quivering with anticipation, until she was ready to beg him for release.