'And no doubt considered it an honour,' she agreed, flashing him an ironic look.
'But surely you agree that a woman is entitled to the same privileges as a man?'
'Of course I do.'
Where was this leading? Britt wondered. Why did she feel as if Sharif was backing her into a corner? Perhaps it was his manner. He was way too relaxed.
'So if you agree,' he said with all the silky assurance of the desert lion she thought him, 'can you give me a single reason why you shouldn't take your pleasure in the sheikh's pavilion...like a man?'
Her mouth opened and closed again. The only time she was ever lost for words was with Sharif, Britt realised with frustration. He was as shrewd as he was distractingly amusing, and was altogether aware of how skilfully he had backed her into that tight little corner. He was in fact a pitiless seducer who knew very well that, where he might have failed to impress her with the fantasy of the harem tent, with its billowing curtains and silken cushions, or even the rather seductive clothes they were both wearing, he could very quickly succeed with fact. She had always been an ardent believer in fact.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SHE COULD HARDLY believe that Sharif had just given her a licence to enjoy him in a room specifically created for that purpose. Crazy. But not without its attraction, Britt realised, feeling her body's eager responses. But she would be cautious. She had heard things about Kareshi. And she liked to be in control. What if she didn't like some of these pleasures Sharif was hinting at? Her gaze darted round. She started to notice things she hadn't seen before. They might be ancient artefacts, as Sharif described them, but they were clearly used for pleasure.
She drew in a sharp, guilty breath hearing him laugh softly. 'Where are you now, Britt?' he said.
Caught out while exploring Planet Erotica, she thought. 'I'm in a very interesting tent-I can see that now.'
'Very interesting indeed,' Sharif agreed mildly, and he made no move to come any closer. 'So I have laid you bare at last, Britt Skavanga?'
'Meaning?' she demanded, clutching the edges of her robe together.
'Have I challenged your stand only to find it has been erected on dangerously shifting sand?' Sharif queried with a dangerous glint in his eyes. 'I've offered you the freedom of the harem-the opportunity to take your pleasure like a man-and yet you are hesitating?'
'Maybe you're not as irresistible as you think.'
'And maybe you're not being entirely truthful,' he said. 'What do you see around you, Britt? What do your prejudices lead you to suppose? Do you think that women were brought here by force? Do you look around and see a prison? I look around and see a golden room of pleasure.'
'That's because you're a sensualist and I'm a modern woman who's got more sense.'
'So quick sex in a corner is enough for you?'
'I deplore this sort of thing.'
The corner of Sharif's mouth kicked up. 'You're such a liar, Britt. You have an enquiring mind, and even now you're wondering-'
'Wondering what?'
'Exactly,' he said. 'You don't know.'
'That's no answer to that.'
'Other than to say, you're wondering if there can be pleasure even greater than the pleasure we have already shared. Why don't you find out? Why don't you throw your prejudices away? Why don't you open your mind to possibility and to things we modern-thinking people may not have discovered if they hadn't been treasured and preserved by tribes like this.'
'There can't be much that hasn't been discovered yet,' she said, gasping as she snatched her hand away when Sharif touched it.
'Did you feel that?' he said.
Feel it? He had barely touched her and her senses had exploded.
'And this,' he murmured, lightly brushing the back of her neck.
Her shoulders lifted as she gave a shaky gasp. 'What is that? The sensation's incredible. What's happening to me?'
'This is happening to you.' Sharif explained, gesturing towards the golden dish of cream the women had used to massage her skin. 'This so-called magic potion has been passed down through the generations. Not magic,' he said, 'just a particular blend of herbs. Still...'
They had a magical effect, Britt silently supplied. The scratches she had acquired during her ordeal in the desert had already vanished, she realised, studying her skin. She shivered involuntarily as Sharif's hand continued its lazy exploration of the back of her neck, moving through her hair, until she could do no more than close her eyes and bask in the most incredible sensation.
'They put lotion on your scalp as well as on your body, and that lotion is designed to increase sensation wherever it touches.'
And they touched practically every part of her, she remembered, though the women had taken great care to preserve her modesty. She looked at Sharif, and saw the amusement in his eyes. So he thought he'd won again.
She stood abruptly, and became hopelessly entangled in her gown.
'I've heard of veils being used as silken restraints and even as blindfolds,' Sharif remarked dryly, 'but why would you need those when you can tie yourself in knots without help from anyone? Here-let me help you...'
She had no alternative but to rest still as Sharif set about freeing her.
She wasn't prepared for him being so gentle with her, or for her own yearning to receive more of this care. She wanted him-she had always wanted him.
She was still a little tense when he unwound the fine silk chiffon gown-exposing her breasts, her nipples, her belly, her thighs, with just a wisp of fabric covering the rest of her. She concentrated on sensation, glad that Sharif was in no rush. Everything he did was calculated to soothe and please her. He took time preparing her, which she loved. She loved his lack of haste, and his thoroughness, and knew she could happily enjoy this for hours. Sharif's hands were such delicate instruments of pleasure, and so very knowing where she was concerned.
'And now the rest of you,' he said in a tone of voice that was a husky sedative.
Each application of cream brought her to a higher level of arousal and awareness, so that when he slipped a cushion beneath her hips, she understood for the first time what they were for, and applauded their invention. And when he dipped his hands in the bowl of cream a second time, warming it first between his palms...
And when he touched her...
'Good?' he murmured.
'Do you really need me to answer that?'
And at last he touched her where she was aching for him to touch, but his attention was almost clinical in its brevity.
'Not yet,' he soothed when she groaned in complaint.
He sat back, and she heard him washing his hands in the bowl of scented water and then drying his hands on a cloth. 'You need time to appreciate sensation, and I'm going to give you time, Britt.'
She sucked in a shocked breath. Words failed her. Being on the ball in the office was very different from being...on the sheikh's silken cushions.
'Why confine yourself to once or twice a night?' Sharif said, his eyes alive with laughter.
She didn't know whether to be outraged or in for the journey. When would she ever get another chance like this, for goodness' sake? And with Sharif's dark gaze drawing her ever deeper into his erotic world, and the knowing curve of his mouth reassuring her, there was only one reality for her, and that was Sharif.
'And now you have a job to do,' he said, breaking the dangerous spell. Removing the cushions, he carefully eased her legs down.
'What?' she said, wondering if this was the moment to admit to herself that she would walk on hot coals if that was what it took to have Sharif touch her again.
She followed his gaze to the dish of cream.
Desert robes were intended to come off with the least amount of trouble, Britt discovered as she loosened the laces on the front of Sharif's robe. As it dropped away to reveal his magnificent chest she realised that she might have found the sight of such brute force intimidating had she not known that Sharif was subtle rather than harsh and, above all, blessed with remarkable self-control.
She was glad when he turned on his stomach and stretched out. She wasn't sure she was ready for the whole of naked Sharif just yet. This warrior of the desert was a giant of a man with a formidable physique. Using leisurely strokes, she massaged every part of him, though had to stop herself paying too much attention to his buttocks. They might be the most perfect buttocks she had ever seen on a man, buttocks to mould with your hands-to sink your teeth in-but there was only so much cream to spare, she reflected wryly as he turned. 'Did I say you could move?'
'Continue,' he murmured, settling onto his back.
Okay, so she could do this-and with Sharif watching, if she had to. Hadn't they both seen each other naked in the snow? And was she going to turn her back on Sharif's challenge? Because that was what this was. She had acted big-time girl-around-town, and now he'd called her bluff as she'd called his at the ice lake. He'd come through that with flying colours-flying them high and proud.