Never Seduce a Sheikh(39)

“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you, Isma’il.”

For a second, he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Thank you for what?”

“For giving me exactly what I wanted. For not holding back.”

A hard, knotted ball of tension began to unravel inside him. “I did not hurt you?”

“No.” Her mouth curved. “Well, maybe just a little bit. But I liked it.” She lifted a hand to his chest, stroked her fingers lightly over his pectoral. “Fighting you was so bloody exciting. And now I feel . . . I feel free.”

The tension unravelled still further, leaving a curious lightness inside his chest. “I’m glad. Because it is not over, Habibti.”

He could have this couldn’t he? One night of total freedom with this woman, the only woman who’d ever given him permission to break the boundaries he set around himself. That was allowed surely?

Isma’il leaned down, brushed her mouth with his, letting the lightness of her touch shiver over his skin. The clean, fresh smell of her cut with the musky perfume of sex was an aphrodisiac all on its own, his body insistently reminding him of what it wanted.

Lily sighed, moving restlessly beneath him. “Yes . . . I did wonder. I thought there might be more to it than that.” Her fingers tangled in his hair and tightened as he moved lower, licking one pink nipple before taking it into his mouth. She arched as he suckled on her, giving a soft, ragged gasp. The taste of her skin, salty and sweet at the same time, was delicious.

“There is more.” He nuzzled against her breast. “A lot more.” And he would give it to her. Give her an experience that would obliterate all memory of her bastard coach.

“Are you ready for me?” he whispered.

“Yes.”

“I know you have not done this before.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Her mouth curved a little more. “I’m aware of the mechanics.”

She was all soft and amused and teasing, and he wanted to reciprocate, because he’d never seen her like this. But he couldn’t. He felt too on the edge, as if one push would send him over.

“Lily . . . ” Her name, scraped raw.

Perhaps she saw how close he was. Because although her smile slowly disappeared, the warmth in her eyes didn’t. A warmth he’d never thought he’d ever get from another person.

“It’s okay, Isma’il,” she said softly. “I trust you.”

The immensity of the simple statement slid into him, piercing him. Breaking him.

Freedom. Oh, he was a fool to think he could have that, even for one night. This woman, this moment, was too precious to put at risk for his own selfish need.

He would never be free. Never escape what he’d done to Khalid. Never escape who he was.

And the sooner he accepted that the better.

“You should not trust me. You should not.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Sheikh.” A trace of the cool, poised CEO. “I’ll do anything else you want, but where I give my trust is my own decision.”

He had no answer to that. Because to tell her why that was a bad decision would involve the truth. A truth that would bring violence to this bed. Darkness and blood and pain. And she’d already had that once before from one man. He wouldn’t be a second.

“Stay there, exactly like that,” he murmured. Ordered. “I have to get something.”

He went into the small bathroom and found the condoms that his well-meaning staff included in all of his many bathrooms, wherever he went. This was the first time he’d ever found himself availing himself of the opportunity here, in the desert.

Taking one, he returned to the main room of the tent and stopped.

Lily lay on his bed, her hair spread out on the sheets. She’d put her hands up over her head, her thighs fallen open. A picture of complete and utter female surrender. A picture made all the sweeter because it was her.

Eyes the color of black coffee held his. “Is this how you want me?”

He could barely speak. “This is exactly how I want you.”

His hand shook as he got rid of his trousers and he had to take a breath to calm himself. Get a little bit of control back.

“Isma’il?”

He put one knee on the bed and bent, leaning over her. She frowned at him, concerned. “It’s all right, Lily,” he said thickly, and put one hand on her thigh, running it higher, her skin like silk beneath his fingers. Her muscles tensed and when he eased his hand between her thighs, she let out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering closed.

Slick, wet heat against his fingertips, the softness of her parting, yielding as he stroked. Her body arched and he dipped his head, licking the hollow of her throat, tasting her skin. Tasting the desert on it and the clean saltiness that was all Lily.