For the Sheik's Pleasure (Sheiks in Love Book 2)

by Mary Jo Springer

  She’d been so determined from the beginning to keep this professional. So determined. What the hell happened? She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. He’d been right about one thing. They had no future together. His destiny was set in stone since his birth. He wasn’t going to change that for her, no matter how badly they both wanted it. He would be king. He would claim his queen. She would go home. Alone. Broken.

  “As you already stated in the hospital, this can’t continue.” Transfixed by the engrossing expression in his eyes, she stepped forward.

  He turned from her, walking precariously along the edge of the pool, slamming his hands through his hair. “Again . . . I want the truth. I want to know what you’re feeling right now.” He turned and all but stomped back to her.

  This wasn’t working. She tried to scoot past him. His arm reached out and snagged her upper arm, his grip strong, unbreakable. Her gaze flew to his and for a long moment, they stared into each other’s eyes, the virescent core of his eyes burning like hot coals, searing her with his bigger-than-life presence. Again, she shivered, not from the temperature but from his paramount masculinity. Rage engulfed his face, warping his features into hewed stone. Before her stood a ruthless warrior with the entire regal facade ripped away. His smoldering inspection crushed her with its intensity.

  “Now,” he growled, the tone of his voice deepening.

  She jumped at his barked question, took a protective step back. She could no longer put him off. Swallowing her pride, she began, “I was feeling abandoned. Left to fend for myself.” She scrutinized him from his head to his toes.

  “I’m listening.” He’d released her, but his fists clenched at his sides.

  “I was to plan your sister’s wedding and prevent the assassination of your father. But something got in the way of my completing either of those tasks.”

  He cocked his head to the side, concentrating on her every word.

  “Obsession.” Even that word didn’t fit the depth of her feelings.

  He shrugged his massive shoulders, “And you don’t think I feel the same way?”

  “You made yourself very clear in the hospital that you didn’t share my feelings.” Defeat infused her bones.

  She expected him to laugh, but he didn’t. His long fingers tangled in her hair, curling the long tresses around his fingers, nudging her face up to his. Without saying a word, his lips descended. Hot, soft flesh devoured her. A deluge of heat consumed her . . . suffocating, arousing, and mind-blowing. Him. Her breath stalled in her lungs. His body pressed forward, every hard, masculine angle of it. With that simple action, he melted her defenses.

  Heaven and Hell blended with the movement of his fingers.

  “Let me show you obsession.” He ripped the towel from her as his body bucked into hers. He adjusted his body closer, so close the soft silk of his shirt teased the bare skin of her abdomen, provoking a familiar sexual detonation. She surrendered, body and soul, to his finesse. He’d won, she couldn’t fight against his expertise. Her will, her strength, faded. She leaned into the kiss, frantic for his touch, giving him her body and soul. They were doomed. They couldn’t be together, and yet they couldn’t stay away from one another. A dark cloud of despair swirled around them like a witch’s curse. He eased away, the expression in his eyes shattering her once more, and without another word, walked past her. For a brief second, her fingers trailed after his retreating form, then, without so much as a “good night” he continued on, up the stairs and into the mansion.

  “What was that?” She called after him.

  He offered no response, just continued up the stairs without a backward glance.

  She wanted to die, her intense feelings for him a deepening barrier to her happiness. Dropping to her knees where she stood, she cried, deep choking sobs coming up from her ravaged soul. How long she remained there she had no idea. Blowing sand pelted her, the sharp edges cutting into her skin like small knives. She was dying inside. Finally, the core of the storm slammed into her, and she rose on shaky legs and made her way to her room, holding on to the wrought iron stair rail for support. Her heart was not as lucky—her heart was on life-support.

  ~ ~ ~

  Standing in the darkness inside her room, he waited like a spider seeking prey. When she entered, he remained silent, greedily taking in her naked body as she dropped her swimsuit on the rug. Coming up behind her, his body gave evidence to how much he wanted her. He pressed into her back as he muttered, “Candace.”

  She jumped, alarmed by his sudden appearance.

  “Shh, it’s me. Sorry I scared you.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought . . .”

  His lips seared the skin on the back of her neck, brushing away the sand with his fingers. “You thought wrong. I want you. Here. Now. And the consequences be damned.” Was that really his voice? He sounded tormented, deranged, yes, that’s exactly how she made him feel. Irrational, unhinged, those were mild words for the emotions rocketing his body. She’d reduced him to a blubbering mound of need and he couldn’t fight it anymore. Hell, he didn’t want to fight it.

  She swung around and stared at him . . . speechless, giving him the view of a lifetime. His spirits lifted with the possibility of . . . maybe. Running his fingers over her naked flesh, savoring the softness of her skin, his lips curved upward into a lazy smile. He had his hands on his woman, and he wasn’t about to let go. Not tonight. Tonight was theirs. Whatever came with the sunrise, they’d face together.

  His breathing became labored, heavy, his chest rising and falling with strained effort.

  He spun her around, and using his hands, he whisked more sand from her until her skin felt, cool, smooth, and slick. To his surprise, she leaned her head back against his chest, her hair covering him with its silky, still damp strands. He savored the heavenly sensation of her against him. Sliding his hands around her waist, his hands molded every inch of her body as they drifted upward. Moonlight twinkled on her bared breasts. Cupping her, he glorified in the feel of her supple, buoyant flesh as her nipples hardened into tight buds for him.

  For him.

  The depths of the secrets her body held would soon be discovered, and he relished every moment of their time together. The experience of finally getting a chance to show her how much he loved her.

  “We won’t be able to go back to the way we were after this night,” she murmured, her voice tender, shaking with emotion, and he leaned in to hear her words. She sounded like she was in pain, or maybe it was regret. He didn’t dare wager a guess for fear of being wrong.

  “No, but I no longer have the strength to resist.”

  “Touch me, Baby. Make me yours.” His pulse hammered as pleasure coursed through his veins. One night. They might have just this one night, but he intended for it to be the night of her life.

  “Diyari.” Her voice sounded as mournful as the sand blowing against the diamond paneled windows.

  They were perfectly matched for each other.

  He saw the hesitation in her eyes. For an endless moment, they stared at each other, each afraid to speak. The crashing drum of the wind against the window rivaled the roar of his blood reverberating through his veins.

  Finally, she spoke, and he released a whoosh of breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  “I love you, Diyari, now and forever. Whatever happens with the dawn,” she whispered, her words zinging through him.

  Whenever she said his name, a strange sensation washed over him. More so now with the words of promise added.

  He tilted his head to the side, his very posture questioning her. “As I love you.” The word ‘cherish’ seemed to better fit the emotions scurrying through him. His hand encircled her neck, his thumb rubbing against her pulse.

  “But what will this cost us? My heart can’t take another hit like the one
you delivered in the hospital.” Within the deep blue sea of her eyes, he spied a vulnerability he’d never seen before. His stomach sank to his toes. He’d put that uncertainty there, him with his selfish motives.

  She walked out of the circle of his arms and stood before the window, her head in her hands.

  His soul lurched into his throat.

  Disturbed by her words, he pursued her, and coming up against her back, he countered with, “Your heart is safe with me.” Nuzzling her hair, the tangy fragrance of roses mixed with chlorine and sand saturated his senses. His head spun from the nearness of her—the touch of her, the exotic heat of her. He desired her more than he ever craved a woman before. He’d spoken too hastily when he almost lost her to that gunshot wound. She completed him as a man. He longed to have her by his side. Forever. His body literally trembled with desire, love, lust, hell, he didn’t know anymore. Pulling her up hard against him, his pulsating erection settled in the cleft of her buttocks. His eyes slid closed as he savored her softness against his hardness. His hands roamed over the satiny and cool skin of her back, her buttocks, and her perfect thighs.

  “We have to face hard facts. You will be the B’Quaraian king, you will do your duty and marry Princess Naomi. I don’t fit into your life.” Her voice rattled with tears.

  For a long moment, she allowed him to remain there, lost in her own thoughts. Then, she walked to the bed.

  Instantly, loss, emptiness consumed him. Disappointment and frustration twisted in his gut, as the flame of desire exploded into a bonfire.

  “You’ve already hurt me, Diyari, trampled on my heart when I offered it freely with no strings attached.”

  “Candace . . . Baby.” He moved to her, but her palm hit him square in the chest, halting him. A frisson of heat sparked like a live wire where her hand touched him. His breath hitched in his lungs.

  Continuing to hold him at arm’s length, tears streaming down her cheeks, she said, “No, you are not free to give your heart. That territory is already staked out.”

  The solemn sound of the wind and sand particles whipping against the windows smacked of solitude . . . loneliness.

  “Candace, in all my years of dating, I’ve allowed no one, no one I tell you, to enter the area of my heart.” He tried to by-pass her palm holding him at arms-length. But she held her ground.

  “I love you.” He placed her hand over his heart. “You own my heart . . . my soul, and I give it freely to you. I would have thought that was obvious.” Pushing harder against her palm, he leaned forward and touched his lips to her cheek, tasting the salt of her tears. He relished the taste of her on his tongue. The womanly scent of her body. He fought to contain himself, to move at a snail’s pace. If he scared her . . . he’d never forgive himself.

  “Never,” he reiterated, closing his eyes, “have I said these words to another woman. I swear. This thing between us—”

  “Is going nowhere,” she interrupted. “It can’t. You can put any spin you want on it, but when it comes down to it, you can’t take it to the next level. You’re committed elsewhere.”

  He reached for her hand, and she side-stepped him. “You’ve made that very clear on several occasions. Thank you very much. I think you said it was for my own good.” He let out a disgusted sigh, trying to block her escape.

  He rammed his hands through his hair, “I’m not in love with Naomi. How can I make you understand?” he barked out.

  She smoothed her hair over her shoulder, “No, you’re engaged to her. You’re going to marry her,” she fired back, tears playing havoc with her voice.

  Turning his hands up, he silently begged for her understanding. “Not for a long, long time.”

  She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “Diyari. We can split hairs all day. But the main fact remains. You’re not free.”

  He’d had enough. He reached out, capturing her with his hand. Pulling her up hard against him, he crushed her lips beneath his. The animal heat of her luscious skin antagonized him beyond his endurance. Her lips parted in invitation. He plunged inside, plundering the sweetness of her mouth, his tongue exploring her depths. He groaned, and deep in his chest, the sound rumbled, mimicking the fierce storm outside. Every element of her being fought against him. He’d have to convince her with his hands and lips that he was hers. Completely. She didn’t want to love him. Not anymore. Not after he’d hurt her so badly with his thoughtless words at the hospital. Even now, she didn’t even want to kiss him, but she was powerless to resist.

  He understood. He was powerless also. For a man raised to discipline his every move, he suddenly had to strain for self-control. The gods had fashioned them for each other. Before the planets were formed, before the oceans flowed, their bodies called to each other. In some prehistoric time, their spirits met and mated.

  Kismet.

  He comprehended the exact moment her desire overruled her circumspection. Her arms encircled his neck, he pulled her closer into a whole-body embrace, the heat flaring between them hot enough to melt the sun. The press of her delectable, naked breasts rubbing against the soft silk of his shirt heightened his arousal. Take it slow, take it slow, repeated over and over in his brain. One wrong move, and she’d bolt. She was as nervous as a frightened hare in the sights of a hunting hyena. He was that hyena.

  No, he’d pace himself, taking the time to let her relax against him—allowing her to feel comfortable with the thought of making love to him—of being his. This was nearly impossible for him. He wanted to be inside her so badly. Wanted to make her his. Covet her, own her, consume her, take her to heights she’d never experienced or imagined. He sighed heavily, his self-restraint stretched to the very limits. All of his hormones were pumping to maximum capacity. Take it slow . . . How the hell was that going to happen? Every cell in his body geared up for that exquisite moment when he made her his. His legs trembled, his hands shook, his throat was as dry as the desert surrounding them.

  To his surprise, she pressed her hand against him, unzipped his jeans, and enclosed him within her silken grasp. The growl that erupted from him was visceral, cellular deep. Elemental and primitive, it poured out from the very depths of his masculinity. From the first moment he met her, this woman totally wrecked him.

  Her hand stroked the length of him. Fisted him. He jerked into her fingers. His breath hammered out in quick repetitions. Her tortuous hand moved tantalizingly slowly up and down his shaft. He couldn’t breathe, swallow . . . function. If she kept this up, it would be over in mere minutes. His eyes rolled back into his head as her fingers continued the anguished pace. And then, his body bucked as her beguiling pace accelerated, the need to consummate their union a driving force. She tore at the buttons of his shirt. Becoming impatient, she ripped the material, scattering the buttons around the room. He was on fire. Anticipation drummed through him. One hand kept the up and down movement on his dick while her other hand fanned out over his chest testing the area around his nipples.

  He cupped her neck, pulling her closer for another earth-shattering kiss, drinking the very essence of her. His fingers slid over the soft skin of her body as she arched into him. Up, then down again, he couldn’t get enough of the feel of her in his arms. Silk and satin merged into one — her flesh smooth, slick, beneath his searching fingers.

  He slowed his fingers, wanting the sensations to last. He knew they wouldn’t, he wouldn’t. The explosion of passion within him ramped up to a new level. His hands found her delicious bottom, molding the soft, rounded mounds with his hands. He grasped her, pulling her against his solid flesh. The bump of her womanly heat against his erection sent him into a sexual melt-down. The musky aroma of her excitement filled his nostrils. He was lost.

  He stilled her hand movements with his fingers, fighting for breath. Then, he enclosed her hand with his and showed her the motion that aroused him even more. Reaching out, he cu
pped her sex, sliding fingers into her wetness. She moaned into his mouth.

  When she raised her leg, wrapping it around his hip, it was all he could do not to penetrate her. An animal grunt spilled from his lips. He waited, arousing her, waiting for her to give her consent to their mating, the moment when he was absolutely positive she was his for the taking.

  It came with her next breath. “Diyari, I want you. Want you to be inside me claiming me as yours, even if it’s just for tonight.”

  His mind blown, primitive urges rushed through him, forcing the heat of his passion into a blazing torrent, creating a virtual avalanche of covetousness. He was instantly conquered by her femininity. Her acute sexual appeal. His body screamed for completion. He answered the call by using his hand to glide himself into her warm depths. Her heated flesh wrapped around him. For a moment he went perfectly still as he adjusted to the overwhelming pleasure of being inside her.

  Moving onto the bed, he closed his eyes, panting to gain some control. Impossible. He slowed the motion of his questing fingers, arousing her to climax as he deepened his plunge. Her head fell back as a whispered little gasp escaped her. The sound so small yet so power-packed with emotion, it nearly undid him. Masculine mastery escaped him. He thrust into her. Hard. She welcomed his invasion. What was it about this woman that forced his emotions to be so acute? They united into one being . . . one moving mass of delirium, desperate in their love for each other.

  As her fingers serpentined across his chest, caressing his nipples, he withdrew and thrust into her again. Using his hand against the small of her back, he lifted her, sliding yet deeper, the sensation overpowering him, driving him on.

  His lips rested against the rapid pulse beating in her neck—his own duplicating her speed. He sucked on the sweet skin of the spot, before his teeth teased the soft tissue. He was going to leave a mark.