“How is it a tax write-off?” the Sheikh asked, stepping up to the counter, his eyes focused on hers.
He put his hands on the bottle she was holding, and Nat gasped when she felt their hands touch. Suddenly she realized his fingers were intertwined with hers, their eyes locked in a gaze that felt like . . . something.
“Well,” she whispered, doing her best to control the electricity that was ripping through her body from the way they were touching, the way he was looking at her, the way she knew she was looking at him. “A corked bottle of wine is officially defective, so it gets tossed. And defective inventory is a tax write-off.”
“I do not see how a little bit of flavorless cork can ruin a bottle of fine wine,” said the Sheikh, his hand moving over hers, their fingers slowly locking tighter.
“Well, it does. That’s how it’s always been.”
“That does not mean it always has to be that way. Sometimes tradition has to be discarded in favor of what makes sense.”
Nat blinked and looked down at their hands joined around that corked bottle of wine. She frowned as she wondered if the Sheikh was talking about the wine or something else. She tried to pull her hands away, but Zameer held them in place, his green eyes steady and focused. What the hell was happening here, Nat wondered as she felt the heat rise between them as they stood there in momentary silence, the sun beaming down through the skylight of the winery building.
“Are we talking about the wine here or something else?” she asked without thinking.
The Sheikh laughed. He glanced back at his helicopter, nodding once and then turning back to Nat. She heard the engines of the chopper fire up again, and a moment later it had taken off.
Nat blinked as she processed what was happening here. He was here. The chopper was gone. Oh, God, he was here! Now what?! Oh, shit, now what?!
“I do not know,” he whispered.
“What?” she said.
“I do not know if I am talking about the wine or something else,” said the Sheikh. “All I know is that I am here, and so are you.”
“Very perceptive,” Nat said, again without thinking. “What other insights do you have for me?”
Zameer shook his head. “No insights, Ms. Norwood. Just unfinished business.”
“What business is that?” she said softly, her head beginning to spin as she wondered if she’d be able to stop him this time, if she’d be able to stop herself.
And then it hit her that she didn’t need to stop him. She didn’t want to stop him. And she certainly didn’t want to stop herself. Perhaps they were both corked in some way, both tainted in some way, and perhaps the Sheikh was right. Perhaps there was a way to salvage the wine, to uncork it, uncork each other.
She felt him draw close, and her eyelids fluttered as she waited for his kiss. “What business is that?” she whispered again, taking a breath and smelling his subtle cologne, those hints of tobacco leaf and red spice mixing with his natural scent in a way that was making her hot and cold at the same time.
“The business of shutting down this place,” he whispered back.
“What?” she gasped, her eyes flicking open as both anger and panic rose up so fast she almost choked. She’d assumed that he’d only showed up here because he was going to give her the chance to change his mind, to give her the week she’d asked for. “What about—”
Zameer shook his head, his hands clamping down on hers even as she tried to pull away. “I am shutting you down today. I have to do it now, because I do not want to mislead you. I do not want to set false expectations. I do not want you to think for even a moment that you will be able to change my mind after what I do next.”
Nat blinked as she tried to process what he was saying. “What you do . . . next?”
The Sheikh nodded, his jaw tightening, his fingers locked with hers around that bottle so tight Nat wondered if the glass would shatter. “Yes,” he whispered. “What I do next.”
And then he leaned in and kissed her. By God, he kissed her.
9
The Sheikh felt her try to pull away even as she kissed him back, but he held her hands firm around that wine bottle as he pushed his tongue into her warm mouth. She tasted sweet, and for a moment Zameer wondered if she’d already had some wine that day. If so, it would mean he had just consumed alcohol and broken an oath he’d taken almost ten years ago!
Too late, he thought, fighting his conscience as he kissed her deeper, harder, with a desperation that almost scared him. She was kissing him back now, but he could somehow feel her anger, her shock, her own conflict between mind and body. He’d made the decision to shut her down immediately on the helicopter ride over. It had seemed the honest thing to do—after all, there was no way she was going to change his mind; but at the same time, he knew he wanted her, and the Sheikh never lied or misled the women he slept with. He never made them think they had any influence over him, any power over him.
But am I being honest with myself, the Sheikh wondered as he took one hand off the wine bottle and grasped the back of her neck, pulling her in hard as he felt her gasp. I just kissed this woman without knowing if she’d consumed wine today. Is my commitment to my oath so weak that a woman I barely know can cause me to discard it? Or is my attraction to her so powerful that I am questioning the very reasons for my oath?!
The Sheikh could feel himself get erect beneath his trousers, and he forced himself to break from the kiss and look into Nat’s brown eyes. She was looking back up at him, her eyes misty and unfocused, her mouth wet from his saliva, her face flush with both arousal and what looked like a potent mix of shock and anger.
“Have you had any wine today?” he asked her, blinking as he wondered what he would do if she said yes.
“What if I have?” she asked, a faint smile appearing on her face. “Will you still shut me down?”
“I am asking the questions here.”
“Clearly not, because I just asked you a question.”
“Well, I am not answering any questions.”
“Well, I’m not answering any questions either,” Nat said, her smile widening.
Ya Allah, she is pretty, the Sheikh thought as he felt himself begin to smile too. He glanced down at her. She wore a black dress with a high neckline that nonetheless could barely contain her bosom. It was not a tight dress, but it still highlighted her curves in a way that made him so damned hard his head spun. The dress went down to her knees, and he could see she had sheer stockings on beneath. He wanted to pull them off with his teeth, he thought. All the way off, and then push his face up in there, right between her legs, spread her wide and breathe deep.
“Then I will do my own investigation,” he growled, grabbing a fistful of her hair from the roots, holding her head in place and then kissing her hard and rough. He pushed his tongue back into her mouth, swirling it around and then pulling back and raising an eyebrow.
“Toothpaste, mouthwash, breath mints,” he said. “And a hint of what I believe is teeth whitener.”
Nat shrugged. “That red wine leaves stains, and my smile is my livelihood.”
“I thought your tongue and taste-buds are your livelihood.”
“I’m a vintner, not a sommelier. There’s a difference.”
“If you say so. I wouldn’t know.” The Sheikh raised the other eyebrow. “Show me.”
“Show you what?”
“Your smile.”
“Show me yours.”
The Sheikh laughed, his smile breaking spontaneously. Then suddenly they were both laughing, both smiling, both kissing. That corked bottle of wine stood between them, and the Sheikh finally pushed it aside and placed his hands firmly on her breasts, pressing hard as Nat arched her neck and moaned.
“No,” she whispered, grabbing his hands by the wrists and pulling them off her. “Not until you agree to give me the week you promised b
efore shutting me down.”
“I promised no such thing,” the Sheikh growled, feeling his blood rise as his cock grew to full mast and his arousal spiraled upward to a place where he knew he would not be able to control it soon.
“You may not have said the words, but your actions are a promise.”
“What actions?” the Sheikh said, annoyed at having his hands pushed away. He could not remember the last time a woman had resisted him this long. For a flash he saw himself twisting her around, pushing her face down on the counter, spanking her big bottom until she spread her legs for him like the king he was. But he held off. He was going to play her game, he decided.
“Showing up here,” Nat said. “I invited you here for one week, to see what I do, to see what happens here before you decide to shut me down. So your act of showing up here is a promise. If not, you’re trespassing.”
Zameer shook his head and laughed. He reached for her breasts again, but she slapped his hands away. “You forget that I own this land and everything on it.”
“Not everything,” she whispered, glancing down at herself and then up into his eyes.
The Sheikh almost came in his pants when he looked down at her. The sexuality in this woman is overwhelming, he thought. She is so comfortable with her sexuality that she is willing to play with it, to play with me, to dare me to play with her.
“I simply want to make sure that whatever happens between us is independent of my decision to shut down this place,” the Sheikh said, looking her up and down.
“That’s impossible, and to pretend otherwise is ridiculous. Who I am and what I do is irrevocably linked. And I’m not going to have anything to do with a man who destroys my life’s work for . . .” She cocked her head to the left and frowned up at him. “Why are you so hung up on this idea that you can’t be associated with alcohol in any way, shape, or form, anyway? I’ve had Muslim clients. Arab clients. I’ve had folks who abstained from drinking for religious reasons who visited the winery with friends and had no problems being around it. They were even interested in the process. They understood that the creation of wine is as natural as childbirth, that—”
“Enough!” roared the Sheikh, pushing Nat away so hard she stumbled and would have fallen if not for the counter. “What do you know about childbirth? About what is natural and what is not? You are just another whore like the rest of them. You want me for what I can do for you, not for what I am. Just another drunken whore!”
10
Nat gasped as she hit the glass-topped counter and held on so she wouldn’t fall. She turned quickly, the fire in the Sheikh’s green eyes sending a chill through her as she wondered if she’d have to defend herself. But Zameer made no move toward her, and when Nat looked up into his handsome face she saw that there was something going on in there, something more than just religious devotion, something deeper, something personal.
So she swallowed her pride and ignored the insult, taking a breath and standing up straight even though she barely came up to his broad shoulders.
“Another drunken whore?” she said, smiling as she raised her chin and looked at him dead on. “Tell me about the first drunken whore, Zameer. The one who clearly got to you. What did she do? Break the king’s heart? Leave him for another man?” Nat laughed, a perverse feeling coming over her when she saw how her words were affecting the Sheikh. “Another woman?” she whispered, almost sneering as she felt the need to hurt him just like he’d hurt her by calling her a whore not once but twice.
“No woman leaves me unless I permit it,” the Sheikh said, and Nat could see the change in his expression as Zameer regained his cool and glanced down at her with an icy stare.
Nat snorted. “Except for women you never really had in the first place. Like drunken whores who only wanted you for what you could do for them, not for who you are. Boo hoo. The king is sad because no one loves him!”
The Sheikh’s eyes widened, his brown face turning dark as he stared down at her. He looked big and powerful, but also like an angry child for a moment, and Nat knew she’d gotten to him once again.
“What does a whore know about love?” he growled, taking a step toward her and stopping less than a foot away, so close she could smell his scent.
Nat laughed. “You like saying that word, don’t ya. You think I give a shit what you think of me? You think any woman who’s ever fucked you wasn’t thinking about your throne and your crown and your bank accounts?”
Zameer’s face twisted in a surprised smile. “You are saying every woman is a whore?”
“I’m saying you throw that word around like you think it’s an insult. The truth is, it’s . . . it’s . . . well, it’s the truth. Every woman knows deep inside that her sexuality is an asset, a source of strength, a weapon even. It’s just that most women are shamed into hiding that both from themselves and anyone else.”
The Sheikh snorted, stepping back and folding his arms over his mammoth chest. “Every woman except you, I suppose. How very modern and feminist. I am so impressed, Ms. Norwood.” He took a breath, his green eyes narrowing, his face darkening again. “And so if every woman is a whore, what about every man? What is the essence of man’s sexuality, since you are such an expert in everything from wine-production to business presentations to sexual psychology?”
Nat laughed. “You liked my presentation?”
“There were some good points in it. This place could be a flourishing business with the right levels of investment and marketing.” Zameer shrugged. “Too bad this is not about business.”
“It’s always about business,” Nat whispered, taking a step closer as she felt a sudden rise in her heat, sensed her wetness flow in a way that startled her almost as much as her actions and words surprised her. God, she was a whore, wasn’t she? And hell, it turned her on!
She looked up at the Sheikh and saw him blink twice. Without looking down she could see the movement in his pants. He was as turned on as she was, as aroused as she was, as hot as she was.
“You did not answer my question,” the Sheikh said, taking a step closer until the peak at the front of his trousers almost touched her. He grasped her upper arms tight, so tight Nat gasped at the pressure. “What is the essence of man’s sexuality?”
Nat blinked as she looked up at the Sheikh. She had no idea, really. She’d been making this shit up as she went along. “I don’t think man’s sexuality has really evolved beyond that of the animals. Case in point right here.”
“So I am an animal?” the Sheikh growled, his grip tightening on her arms as he caressed her bare skin, his hands slowly moving to her shoulders as he pulled her in. “The whore and the animal? The harlot and the beast?”
“Sure,” Nat whispered, feeling her resistance weaken. She wanted him, she knew. And she wanted something from him too. The two went together, just like who she was and what she did went together. “Let’s go with that. Now are you going to kiss me again or just stand there with your hard-on like a horny schoolboy who doesn’t know what to do with a girl?”
The Sheikh’s eyes widened, and then he roared with laughter, grasping her by the hair and pulling her in for a kiss that was so hard, so deep, so overwhelming that Nat almost went limp in his arms.
“Oh, shit,” she muttered as the Sheikh broke from the kiss just long enough for them to take a breath, and then he was on her again, kissing her long and deep, pulling her hair, rubbing her back, squeezing her ass as he pushed her against the glass counter.
“Do not think for a moment that this means I have yielded,” the Sheikh grunted as he reached up beneath her dress and grasped her panties and stockings, ripping them both down the middle and furiously pulling them down past her thighs. With barely any effort he grabbed her by the buttocks and thighs and sat her up on the countertop, yanking off her tattered panties and stockings and tossing them over his head.
“One week,” Nat groaned a
s she felt the cool glass against her naked bottom. “A man keeps his promises. That’s his job. To keep his promises.”
The Sheikh pushed her body down lengthwise on the thick glass counter, sliding her along until she was at the corner where it made a hard turn toward the wall. He stood before her and spread her legs as she looked down past herself, saw his face between her naked thighs. She didn’t feel any shame as her wetness flowed down her slit onto the glass, and she looked into his eyes and took a breath.
“One week,” she said again. “Keep your promise.”
The Sheikh looked up at her from between her legs. He glanced down and back up, his eyes narrowing, his dark red lips tightening. “I have never met a woman like you,” he said, shaking his head and then slowly nodding as his eyes moved down to that dark space between her open legs. “One week. I will listen to what you have to say. See what you have to show me.” Then he looked up one last time. “But I will take what I want, when I want, how I want. Like an animal. The animal you say I am. Yes?”
Nat shuddered as she felt his warm breath against the soft skin of her inner thighs. Slowly she nodded as she felt him lower his face and start to lick her with long, deliberate strokes. She was aroused beyond belief, and as she felt the Sheikh’s stiff tongue play with her clit and then slide into her cunt, she wondered what she was getting into.
Too late, she told herself as the Sheikh held her thighs apart and started to fuck her with his tongue as she felt her eyes roll up in her head. You started this game by inviting him here, and now you’re gonna have to play it out.
“What you want,” she muttered as he curled his tongue inside her.
“When you want,” she whispered as he tapped and flicked her clit with his thumb and forefinger, pinching it gently in a way that almost made her choke.
“How you want,” she moaned as she felt his other hand slide beneath her, splitting her buttcheeks and circling her rear pucker while he ate her out with a desperation that made her gasp as she felt her climax build so fast she could barely breathe.
Uncorked for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 14) Page 5