Bought by the Sheikh

by Diana Fraser

  “Not in traditional gatherings, but you know that our country is a mixture of the west and east. We manage it by using our discretion.”

  “And I guess there’s nowhere quite as discrete as being in a cave while the desert wind whips up the sand all around us, making it impossible for us to exit, or for others to enter.”

  “Exactly.” He took another sip and let out a long sigh, his eyes grazing over her. “Now, where were we?”

  She shook her head. She didn’t want to remind him, but by the look on his face, he didn’t need reminding.

  “You know I thought it would be different, kissing you. But it wasn’t. It was as if the intervening time had evaporated—disappeared—and it was only yesterday that we were together.”

  She had to resist. This whole set up had been to seduce her, but she didn’t want that, did she? “Maybe, but that’s irrelevant.”

  He smiled, and her eyes slid to his lips as inappropriate thoughts blasted into her mind.

  A silence descended as he looked thoughtful. “Tell me, Gabrielle. What is it you want?”

  She nearly choked on her sip of wine. “You ask me what I want? I thought this was all about what you wanted.”

  “I repeat, what is it you want?”

  “I want to be… free,” she said simply, from between dry lips, the words wrenched from her.

  “Free of what?”

  She looked up and caught his gaze. “Free of feeling things I don’t want to feel.”

  He sat forward, his face more intense if anything. “There, you see, we both want the same things. The only difference between you and me is that I want to free myself of this obsession by indulging it.”

  She shook her head instinctively. “No, that’s not the way. Only by absence, by depriving ourselves of what we had, can we recover.”

  “Recover,” he grunted. “You make it sound like a disease.”

  “I think it is. It’s certainly the opposite of ease.”

  He nodded. “And how do you treat a disease? With a small amount of it, until the body moderates its response.”

  She opened her mouth to speak but was unable to contradict him. It was science. And it was science that she believed in, wasn’t it?

  “You think a little more passion will ease the need?” she asked tentatively.

  “I’m counting on it.”

  “It’s been the same for you, too, then?”

  “It gets worse over time, my need for you.”

  “And you don’t want it,” she ventured.

  “No.” It was a brief answer, but it was all she needed.

  She closed her eyes and nodded. She turned away, not wanting to witness the raw need in his eyes, which reflected her own. She jumped up and rubbed her arms. He followed her.

  “Are you cold?”

  She shook her head, not trusting her voice.

  “Then what is the matter?”

  When she looked into his eyes, she saw the shock as he registered her tears. “The matter is that I want you to hold me. The matter is that I’ve never stopped wanting that, not a day since I left you.”

  His kiss robbed her of the need to speak any further. He felt… like bliss, she realized as her mind lifted. Her thoughts and fears simply evaporated under the magical caress of his lips against hers, teasing her lips apart. As his tongue explored hers, ratcheting up the response elsewhere in her body, she breathed him in. He tasted of wine and sand; he tasted of everything she’d been needing since she’d left him.

  She moaned as his hands cupped her face and held her steady. As he continued to explore her mouth, his intense focus was on that kiss, of what he was giving her and of what he was finding in her. She didn’t know what that was, but she knew she wanted more of it. Her heartbeat pounded, and she thought that he must hear it, that it filled the intense quiet of the cave, the noise outside deadened by the thick walls.

  Her fingers splayed around his hips, shifting until they reached his muscled stomach. But with each new sensation of her fingers against his skin, she wanted more. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to mimic what she wanted elsewhere. Her thoughts had moved from the kiss to sex in the split second his lips had touched hers, and it seemed he knew. Because he drew away and held her face firmly in his, his thumbs sweeping over her cheeks.

  She leaned closer to him, to capture those lips once more, but he stood back and slipped off his jacket. He paused as he dropped it on the chair.

  She followed his lead and pulled off her abaya. Then she unbuttoned her shirt. His eyes followed her fingers, lingering on her breasts as she drew back the fabric and slid it off her shoulders and tossed it onto the chair, alongside his jacket.

  She stood only in her bra and jeans. She inhaled sharply before continuing to undress. She had no intention of waiting for him to take off the rest of his clothes. She wanted to show him what she felt, and there seemed no better way.

  Within seconds she stood naked in front of him. His throat convulsed, and then he tore off his shirt. He stepped toward her and kissed each breast in turn before dropping to his knees. He pressed a kiss against her naked stomach, his eyes closing as he trailed kisses further along her stomach, his hands caressing her behind as his mouth lowered. She gasped, gripping his head with her hands as his tongue found another target.

  She thanked God for his ability to focus with steely strength, as his complete attention was given to tasting her as if she were all he wanted in this desert. He wasn’t only intent on giving her pleasure, but she could sense how much he was enjoying it, too. It was in the way his tongue explored her, and his eyes closed as he focused entirely on her, his hands moving around her bottom and her sex, turning her legs to jelly and her heart into overdrive.

  With each lap of his tongue, each slide of his fingers around and inside her, the coiling tension inside her tightened. She dug her fingers into his hair, terrified he’d stop. But he did the opposite, escalating his ministrations until she couldn’t stop herself, but called out his name as she pulsed around his finger.

  He continued to hold her steady as her limbs trembled, and licked her arousal, tasting it as if it were the most costly, desired wine that he could have asked for. Then he rose and, without a word, slid one hand under her, the other around her shoulders, and carried her to the bed.

  There, he laid her gently on the silk coverlet, richly printed with bold geometric Bedouin designs. As he finished undressing, she watched him, just as he’d watched her.

  Zavian was impressive when he was dressed, but without clothes, he was awesome. His powerful body was no longer hidden behind the trappings of royalty. The strong lines of his bones and muscles, honed by years of sport and riding in the desert, revealed his innate power. She reached out to touch him.

  As her fingers made contact with that part of him she craved, he closed his eyes and breathed in sharply. The sudden awareness of her power over him made her bold. She stroked up his length before circling and caressing its base. Then she rose and went on tiptoe and kissed him, feeling his erection pressing against her.

  All it took was for her to raise a thigh and rub it down his hip for him to groan and swiftly lift her until she had both legs around his hips. He took a few steps until her back was pressed against the lush velvet of a wall hanging. She tilted her hips, and he entered her with one long thrust.

  He held her there for a long moment, pinned against the tapestry, speared by his erection as if she were a butterfly and he were the pin. He held her in place so he could admire her beauty, and revel in his sense of possession of her—a sense of possession which she knew she’d never be able to give him in any other way. But here, naked, making love, she wanted to give him everything it was in her power to give.

  He rolled his forehead against hers, kissing her nose, her cheek, nose again, lips, and then her neck, nuzzling her with kisses and nips until it was she in the end who moved first, lifting herself off him, desperate for another thrust.

 
It was as if he was awakened. He drew away from her, his eyes narrowed and dark as he took her, thrusting into her with a regularity with which she couldn’t argue. It took her to the place of annihilation where she was not herself, she was more—she was someone who existed only in relation to him, someone who needed him to take her to the place of no thought, only pleasure.

  It was only after the blast of shocking sensation shot through her body—causing her muscles to flex around him, milking him for what she needed from him—that he allowed himself the same release. His buttocks tensed, and he thrust into her with short sharp thrusts, his eyes narrowed to slits of obsidian. When he closed them, the spell broke.

  He allowed her legs to slide through his hands and fall, quivering, to the floor. Together they fell to the bed, her sex sensitive and wet as his seed leaked down her thighs. She touched it, and his gaze followed her as she brought her sperm-soaked fingers to her clitoris and made herself jerk as her sensitive bud responded to the stimulation. Gone was the shy, demure academic. Zavian had unleashed a wildness in her, matched by his own essential nature.

  He entered her slowly this time, making sure she felt every inch of him against her sensitive skin, as he penetrated her. She tilted her head back, and he kissed her neck and lower, as they found a new rhythm, slow and languorous, sensuous and captivating.

  “Gabrielle.” He mussed her hair with his lips.

  She softly grunted as no thought, no response, came to mind.

  “Gabrielle,” he repeated more urgently, as he lifted himself from her and began to increase the rhythm, to awake her from her stupor of sensation. She kissed him, and the kiss continued as he thrust into her until they came together, crying out, their mouths against each other.

  Finally, their breathing subsided, and their bodies came to rest. The cave was filled with only the faintest movement of wind from the storm outside. Inside the candles’ flames rose perfect, undisturbed by any breeze. There was only their heartbeats and breathing growing more regular as Gabrielle drifted off to sleep, lulled from thought or recriminations by the total relaxation of her body and mind, as well as the touch of Zavian’s fingers over her body—caressing, marveling and worshipping all at the same time.

  * * *

  Zavian continued to trace his fingers over Gabrielle’s sleeping body. She was beautiful; he’d remembered that. She was tender and yielding to his touch, completely in tune with his body and mind; he remembered that also. What he hadn’t remembered was how she made him feel. It was as if he forgot himself when he was with her. That together, they were more important than either one of them. It was a loss, but there was no doubt that it wasn’t lack which now filled his veins, but a deep sense of peace. He felt “right” for the first time since she’d left him. And at that moment, he realized that making love to her wouldn’t cure anything. It merely showed him how much he needed her, to be the person he wished to be. Without her, he was nothing.

  As he gentled his hand on the small of her back she shifted a little and lifted her face to his. He brushed a kiss across her lips and settled back, his other hand under his head.

  The wild night raged all around them, scarcely touching them within the womb of the mountain, which held them safe and secure. He closed his eyes as the last of the candles sputtered out, leaving complete darkness.

  No, what making love had made him realize was that he needed to adjust his plans. There would be no future without Gabrielle. He just needed to make her see. And he would.

  A smile flickered over his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  A repetitive thud awakened Gabrielle. She sat up suddenly, wondering where she was in the semi-darkness. But a hand on her back restricted her movement. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked around.

  Zavian’s arm lay over her protectively. He opened his eyes and smiled at her with a warmth which made her stomach flutter. He pulled her to him until she rolled on top of him, and she could feel he was fully awake.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, pushing away her hair.

  They were interrupted by another pummeling at the door.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Not me. You. I doubt it’s me they want.” Shouts followed another bout of pummeling. “It’s you. And unless you go now”—she glanced down at his arousal—“we’ll be delaying them quite some time.”

  He kissed her, sighed and rolled on top of her, hesitated a moment, and then leaped up. He pulled on his trousers, pushed his fingers through his hair, and went out to the corridor and opened the door.

  Gabrielle pulled on a robe and retreated to a corner where she couldn’t be seen, listening while his men talked to him in an undertone.

  By the time Zavian returned, Gabrielle had dressed and done the best she could with her hair. She grimaced at herself in the mirror. A bath would have to wait until she could leave the cave and use the tent’s luxurious facilities.

  Zavian returned and closed the door behind him. “We must return to the city.”

  “What’s happened?” asked Gabrielle with a frown.

  “Something has come up which I need to attend to urgently.”

  She couldn’t prevent a sly smile. “So your plans are thwarted. It’s not just going to be you and me, out in the desert.”

  But he didn’t smile back. “My plans have changed, Gabrielle. You, me, last night… it has changed everything.”

  She pressed her lips together. She’d believed him when he said they would take what they desired and be able to leave. Not for her, but she’d believed that he would indeed have sated his desire for her.

  “It changes nothing, Zavian. Everything is exactly as it was twenty-four hours earlier. Nothing has changed,” she repeated, her voice low and urgent.

  He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, and held her firmly, as if to drive the seriousness of his message through his fingertips into her body. “I thought that by making love to you, I would rid myself of my obsession. But it’s proved the opposite. I want you, Gabrielle. Not just for now, not just for tonight but for tomorrow and always.”

  “It cannot be.”

  “It has to be. I will show you that this world is yours, as well as mine.”

  All she could do was shake her head. He might believe it, but she could not.

  Chapter 7

  The return trip was made in silence. It was like a wall had slammed between them. Zavian drove, his eyes fixed on the road in front, his mind miles away. Gabrielle felt his distance all the more acutely after such intimacy.

  It was only when they stopped upon entering the palace compound and he switched the engine off, that they both turned to see the helicopter readying itself for takeoff.

  She looked back at him. “You’re going somewhere?” She shook her head, bewildered. “What’s happened?”

  “Naseer wishes to discuss something of urgency, but after that I’ll be leaving. I won’t be gone long.”

  “But—” She stopped herself. He was king and could come and go as he wished. He’d had a night of sex with her and now couldn’t wait to leave her, even after what he’d said about wanting her for always.

  “But nothing. I will explain later after I return.” As he glanced out at the waiting helicopter, the palms moving madly under the breeze from the blades, his face was grim.

  “Right.” She stepped out the car and into the fierce sun, the heat magnified as it bounced off the buildings. “Right,” she muttered, this time to herself, as she watched Naseer exchange a few brief, urgent words with Zavian, before Naseer shot her a dark look and returned inside.

  King Zavian bin Ameen Al Rasheed—for that was what he’d instantly become from the moment he’d left their bedroom—stepped inside the helicopter, and it took off into the brilliant blue sky. What the hell was going on?

  “So,” said Sheikh Amir al-Rahman, King of Janub Havilah, his hands clasped in front of him, his face grim. “Our countries have twice had to be on alert to repel the invaders fro
m Jazira. The second time there was a fatality. Luckily it was theirs, but unless we get this pact with Tawazun signed and sealed, we can look forward to more of the same. And this time, our people may not escape so lightly.”

  King Roshan of Sharq Havilah entered the room, took a swig of his coffee, and slid into his seat. “Apologies,” he said. “I was delayed.”

  Zavian rolled his eyes. “Who was she?”

  Roshan grinned. “I couldn’t possibly divulge the name of the lady in question. I have her reputation to consider.”

  “I think her reputation must have been the last thing on her mind if she decided to get together with you!” pointed out Amir.

  Both Amir and Roshan laughed, but Zavian didn’t.

  Amir noticed, and his face suddenly stilled and looked thoughtful. “You called the meeting, Zavian. What is so important that you want us to meet, not two weeks since our last meeting?”

  Zavian looked first from Amir to Roshan and then back to Amir, trying to find the words he’d rehearsed in the helicopter ride from his city to here, their meeting place in the desert. But they eluded him still. How could he make sense of the emotion that had blasted into him with all the force of the khamseen, obliterating all traces of what had gone before, since his night with Gabrielle?

  Roshan pulled a face and shifted in his seat, casting a knowing glance at Amir. “Oh dear,” he said, with his characteristic insouciance, “This sounds serious.”

  Amir grunted but didn’t move his gaze from Zavian. Zavian returned it in full measure. Once, as boys, they’d been fiercely competitive, but they were now close, and would take a bullet for each other. The underlying strength of their relationship remained intact.

  “It is serious,” said Zavian. “I can no longer pursue marriage to the Sheikha of Tawazun.”

  Amir didn’t blink, but Roshan groaned and let his head fall back against the chair. He opened his eyes slowly and stared at the dark ancient beams that intersected the white-washed plaster ceiling.