Never Resist a Sheikh (International Bad Boys) (20 page)

Felicity turned and met his gaze. “You don’t allow yourself much, do you?”

“I do not need it.” He reached up and pulled off his keffiyeh, discarding it onto the chair near the desk. Then he advanced on her. “There is only one thing here I need.”

Her eyes glittered silver. “Stop, Zakir,” she said.

The order was unexpected and much to his own surprise he obeyed it. Which irritated him.
“Do not think you can play games with me. I am—”

“I’m not playing games with you.” Slowly, she walked toward him.

And he found himself staying where he was, waiting for her to come, getting closer and closer until she was right in front of him, as close as she’d been outside the tent. The scent of flowers and musk wound around him, the warmth of her body making every part of him ache.

“I’ve
never kissed you before,” she said, tilting her head back and looking up at him. “I mean, I know you’ve kissed me, but I haven’t kissed you.”

He wanted to take her right now, right here, roughly, on the floor. And yet he wanted to give her this as well. “Then kiss me.” His voice held a hoarse edge. “Do it fast, little one, before I take it myself.”

She moved without hesitation, taking another
step and closing the remaining distance between them. Rising up on her toes, one hand reaching up to slide around the back of his neck, bringing his head down to press her lips to his.

Ah, holy God, but she was sweet. So sweet. Her mouth opened, her tongue touching his, only a little hesitant. And he found himself clenching his hands in his fists again, fighting the urge to take. To devour and
ravage.

Do not break her. She is precious.

Her tongue swept deeper into his mouth, her body arching against his as she gained in confidence. She tasted of the wine they’d shared at dinner, a rich, deep red, both tart and sweet at the same time, making the beast inside him roar with hunger.

Then she lifted her other hand, pushed her fingers into his hair, kissing him harder, deeper. With more
insistence.

He should be able to hold back. He should be able to control himself. And yet he found his arms around her, his palms sliding over her buttocks, crushing all that soft heat against him, desperate for it.

“You should not do this, little one,” he murmured harshly against her mouth. “I am not a man you want to push.”

“Why not?” She moved her head, kissing his jaw and down the side
of his neck. “You push me all the time.” Her breath was warm on his skin, her lips like fire. “Can’t I push you for a change?” And she touched her tongue to the base of his throat, licking him as delicate as a cat.

He growled, the sound escaping from him before he could stop it, the feel of her little tongue on his skin like a match to dry tinder. “No more questions, Felicity. Have you taken
what you need?”

“No.” She rose higher on her toes and this time it was her teeth he felt against his skin, biting down on him. The nip sent a bolt of pure electricity down his spine, snapping the leash he had on himself.

Without thought, he moved, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling off her white silk veil with the other. Her hair was loose so he plunged his fingers into it, twisting,
gripping on tight to the soft, silky strands. Pulling her head away from him and back, covering that maddening little mouth with his.

And she met him, her response just as hot and hungry as his. Kissing him back as hard as he was kissing her. She angled her head, delivering a nip to his bottom lip, sending his blood pressure skyrocketing.

Ah, God, she had no idea what she was doing.

He jerked
her head back, his breathing ragged, so hard he could barely think. “I told you not to push,” he said roughly.

“And I asked why not?” There was a triumphant look in her quicksilver eyes, as if she was very pleased with his response. “What are you afraid of?”

He tried to ease his hold on her and failed. “I am not an easy lover, Felicity.”

“Easy? What do you mean by easy?”

So many questions.
She always had so many questions. Too many. Perhaps he would show her instead.

He kissed her again, harder, deeper. Ravaging. Devouring. Hot and wet and carnal. Stopping all those questions, stopping everything but this, the taste of her sweet mouth and the silky feel of her hair around his fist. The heat of her body up close to his.

He’d hoped to scare her, make her think about what she was
doing, but instead she took everything he gave her then returned it, kissing him back, her fingers digging into his nape, her short nails delivering their own exquisite bite of sensation.

It was too much, too intense. She wanted to know why she shouldn’t push him?

Then it was time she found out.

F
elicity held onto
Zakir for dear life, her heartbeat going like one of those tribal drums, her blood like fire in her veins. She’d never felt so hungry for another person in all her life.

He growled again, deep in his throat, and she felt herself picked up in his arms and carried over to the big bed in the center of the tent. Then he dropped her down onto it and systematically
began ripping the robes from her body.

The look on his face was fierce, dark, and predatory. And she loved it. He was exciting, thrilling. And so sexy she almost couldn’t handle herself.

Silk tore and she trembled, loving the roughness of his desire. Loving how hungry he was for her that he was nearly out of control. Because this need didn’t come from the deadly desert king who wanted a queen.
This came from a passionate man desperate for a woman.

And not just any woman. Her.

As the last of the silk came off, she lay back on the bed, staring up at him. She was naked now and he was still fully clothed, towering over her in his black robes, looking at her like he wanted to eat her alive. Then he slammed his hands down on the mattress on either side of her head, leaning over her, surrounding
her with that insanely addicting scent of sandalwood and spice, with the heat of his body, his intense, black gaze inches from hers.

“Why are you not afraid?” he demanded hoarsely. “You should be.”

“What? Afraid of you?” She stared right back at him. “Why should I be? Because you’re not an easy lover? Well, you’re assuming I want easy. And I don’t think I do.”

“You are inexperienced. You have
no idea what you want.”

“I know what I want,” she said. “I want you.”

“I will break you, little one. I will hurt you.” He was breathing very fast and she could see something like desperation in his eyes. Something like fear.

And she knew why. “No, you won’t. You won’t break me because I’m stronger than I look. And you won’t hurt me because you’re not your brother.”

“Felicity, you do not understand—”

“No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand.” She looked up into his black eyes, seeing the flame that burned there. “What I want is your passion, Zakir. And I don’t care how that comes.”

“Passion is dangerous.”

“Show me then,” she whispered. “Show me how dangerous it is. Show me how dangerous you are. I’m not afraid. I want it all.”

The flame leapt in his gaze. He looked almost savage and that,
too, she loved. And it made her even more determined to show him that he had nothing to be afraid of. That the man who’d lain her on the bed that afternoon with a cool cloth over her, who’d gotten her a drink to help her with the heat, wasn’t a man who would needlessly hurt anyone.

She didn’t know why it was so important that he believe her. She only knew that it was.

He said something harsh
in Arabic. Then, with one powerful movement he flipped her over onto her stomach.

Her heartbeat accelerated and then again as he pulled her arms above her head. There was a pause and then all the air left her lungs as cool material was wound tight around her wrists, binding them together. She glanced up. White silk. He was tying her hands with her veil.

“This is so you don’t touch,” he said
harshly in her ear. “Only I can do that.”

Excitement caught in her throat and then his hands were on her body, sliding down her sides, over her hips, to her thighs. Stroking, shaping. He caressed the curve of her rear, making goose bumps rise everywhere over her body, and then his hand slipped between her legs.

Felicity gasped as his fingers began to explore her, sliding over her wet flesh,
finding then circling her clitoris in a movement that made her shudder and gasp again.

“You want this?” His voice was a dark growl from behind her, his breath hot on the back of her neck. “You want me to take you like this?”

“Yes…” She pushed herself back against his hand, desperate for more.

He slid a finger inside her, pushing deep. “Beg me for it, little one. I want to hear you say it.”

Pleasure was a white-hot burst of energy inside her, the edge of it getting sharper as he added a second finger, stretching her. “Please, Zakir,” she murmured, her voice thick. “Please…”

His hand withdrew from her and as she trembled against the bed, she heard the rustle of fabric, the sounds of him undressing. They were measured, unhurried.

She blinked. He was still trying to stay in control,
wasn’t he? Well, that wasn’t what she wanted. Wild and passionate, that’s what she wanted. This was a point she was trying to prove and she couldn’t prove it when he insisted on remaining in control.

Felicity rolled over, her arms twisting above her head.

And all the breath left her body.

Because Zakir had discarded his robe and was standing there naked. And he was beautiful. She couldn’t stop
staring. She’d seen naked men before, but not in the flesh. Not right in front of her. And definitely not a man like him.

All bronze skin and sharply cut muscle. Hard. Strong. Powerful. Her gaze travelled down over his chest where the graceful lines of the tattoo traced across his pectorals. Down farther to the defined ridges of his stomach. And then down even farther to where he was hard and
ready for her.

“Who said you could move?” His voice was so deep and rough it sent another shiver through her.

“I wanted to look at you.”

“Turn over.”

“No.”

“Do as I say.” He moved, his hands reaching for her, no doubt to flip her over again, his warm fingers on her hips.

But she met those black eyes. Held them. “Don’t be afraid, Zakir.”

His mouth hardened and he bent over her. “I am not
afraid.”

“Prove it then.” And she lifted her bound hands, slipping them over his head and tightening. Pulling his mouth down so he had no choice but to kiss her.

Heat and desire engulfed her, the desperation in his kiss reaching all the way down to her soul. So she held on, kissing him harder, deeper. Spreading her legs for him, inviting him to take whatever he wanted from her.

So he did.

He made a raw sound deep in his throat, unhooking her arms from around his neck and pushing her back down onto the mattress. Then he reached for the drawer on the nightstand beside the bed and pulled it open. He must have got his gotten his staff to get him a supply of condoms because there was suddenly one in his hand. He tore the packet open and protected himself, and then he hooked one of her legs
over his shoulder, opening her wide. And pushed inside her, hard and deep.

She cried out because it felt so good. Because it was rough and intense and passionate. He held her hands above her head while he ravaged her mouth. While he drove into her, a hard, fast rhythm that had her meeting his thrusts with her own. Showing him she was strong and that she was as hungry for him as he was for her.

Then things became even more desperate.

He nipped at her bottom lip, licked down her throat while she arched beneath him, chasing the intensity of the pleasure. He bent farther, finding her breast, taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking hard.

She cried out as everything drew tight inside her, the driving movement of him inside her, stretching her, becoming too much. She called his name
as the climax took her, twisting beneath him as the pleasure short-circuited every nerve ending she had.

Then he began to move even faster, even harder, finding his own pleasure, burying his head in her neck as it took him, too.

Afterwards she lay there in a kind of daze, content not to move as the aftershocks pulsed through her. Content not to move ever again.

He covered her, his body a heavy
weight on hers, but that was okay. It felt good. Like he was the anchor that held her down and without which she’d just float away.

She didn’t know how long they remained like that, but eventually he shifted. Withdrawing from her, he didn’t say a word as he moved off the bed, disappearing through a tent flap to what was probably the bathroom area. Seconds later, he reappeared, coming back to
the bed and she sat up as he reached for the white silk around her wrists, untying them. Then he took her hands in his, chafing lightly at her skin.

“Are you all right?” he asked, a hoarse edge to his voice.

“Yes.” She pulled her hands away from his, placing her palms on his chest, feeling the smooth oiled silk of his skin and the heat that warmed her all the way through. Then she looked up
at him. “I’ve never felt better in my entire life.”