Читать книгу The Sheikh's Hidden Heir: Secret Sheikh, Secret Baby / The Sheikh's Claim / The Return of the Sheikh - Carol Marinelli, Carol Marinelli - Страница 11

STEPPING out onto the freezing grey street and heading for the underground, Felicity just wanted to get home.

Her clothes, as promised, had been laundered and delivered, and looked better than when she had put them on this time yesterday morning. She had set her alarm for six, determined to get out early and not to have to suffer the embarrassment of seeing him at breakfast.

She’d overreacted appallingly—she knew that.

A simple goodnight would have sufficed.

But it wasn’t his kiss that had terrified her, it was the thought of where it might lead—where, with a man like Karim, it would lead. She couldn’t stand the shame of a disappointing end. Better to just walk away now. Karim oozed sexuality—and she could hardly beat him down with a stick, hardly keep chatting her way through dinner only to dodge his caress at the end of the night.

‘Morning!’ She hadn’t noticed him jogging towards her, and she jumped when she did. He was dressed in grey sweats—a world away from the suited man she had dined with last night, but still impossibly gorgeous. Slightly breathless, he gave her a guarded smile. ‘Off to get your train?’

‘The line’s running, apparently—I just rang and checked.’

Karim couldn’t be bothered with small talk. He was annoyed, and glad that he’d caught her so that he could tell her so.

‘You really didn’t have to run off crying last night—saying no works very well for me.’

‘I just…’ She screwed her eyes closed in confusion and embarrassment—because she had kissed him back, for a moment had actually forgotten. He deserved some sort of an explanation—except it was impossible to come up with one. ‘I just felt things were moving along too fast.’

‘It was a kiss,’ Karim said. ‘And good kisses tend to move things along.’

He was still annoyed—but not just with her.

She was a nice girl. And nice girls wanted romance, kisses, flowers, phone calls—none of which Karim minded. But he wanted sex too. He stared down at her miserable face and it moved him—because if he’d had time on his side she might very well have been worth the effort.

Only he didn’t have time.

‘I’ve got to get going,’ Felicity said, and he had to get going as well—back to his last taste of freedom before he took on the full weight of the crown.

So why was he calling her back? ‘What if I want to take you for dinner tonight?’

‘You’d have an extremely long drive!’ Felicity attempted a smile, but it wavered when he shrugged.

‘I don’t mind travelling,’ Karim said.

‘Let’s just leave it.’ Tears stung her eyes as she stared at this beautiful man, who deserved so much better than her truckload of issues. ‘Look, it isn’t you, it’s me!’

The pedestrian crossing was bleeping, the little green man waving her over—she could see the underground and just wanted to dive into it, wanted to fade into oblivion in the crowd. She shook him off and ran—but she was wearing heels and he was wearing running shoes. The crowd swallowed her, and she hoped she had disappeared into a mass of dark suits as she took the escalator.

Karim was enraged—confused and enraged! Who was this woman who used his lines? Who was this woman who denied his kisses, his invitations? Did she know who he was? He plunged into the underground. Okay, she didn’t know just who he was, but that was part of the game—he won on charm alone.

Except with Felicity he wasn’t winning.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He was beside her, with people tutting as he stood where they wanted to walk. He pressed in beside her, taking the escalator with her.

‘Just leave it!’ Felicity hissed.

‘I don’t want to.’

‘And you always get what you want, do you?’ Felicity’s voice was curt—derisive, even—as she looked at him and saw him for the rich, spoilt playboy that he was. ‘Well, not this time.’

They were off the escalator now, and he took her wrist. ‘What are you running from?’

‘You!’ she said loudly. ‘You just assume that I’ll sleep with you because you bought me dinner—’

‘I just offered to drive for hours to take you to dinner again…’ Okay, he’d had no intention of driving—his pilot would have taken care of that side of things—but he had offered her way more than he intended and yet still she refused him. ‘What’s so scary about that?’

‘Nothing,’ Felicity snapped. ‘Can’t you accept that I’m just not attracted to you?’

It was a lie, an utter lie, and he dashed it with his mouth, kissing away her fibs. She could hear the tube train screeching into the station, feel the rush of wind around her legs, the thick flow of people walking past. But they all faded as he pressed hard into her. His tongue parted her lips and she felt flames lick around her stomach, felt a stroking deep inside that she’d never felt before, that none of Paul’s fruitless attempts had ever yielded. And still Karim kissed her, his mouth capturing hers so thoroughly she couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe, could only think about kissing him back.

‘I beg to differ.’ He pulled his head back.

She broke down then, in a way she never had before.

Karim stood for the longest time, then pulled out an immaculate handkerchief and flinched just a touch as she blew her nose on his royal coat of arms. He should walk away—because it wasn’t his problem, and clearly there was a problem. He was here for his final fling, his last taste of life before he took on full royal responsibility.

But he felt responsible now.

Tears rarely moved Karim. Hers did.

Walk away, a voice told him. He could not.

After a brief hesitation he took her in his arms, curiously relieved that she didn’t stiffen or shrug him off. Unfamiliar tenderness—compassion, even—was filling him as he led her away from the underground and further complicated his life.