Читать книгу The Sheikh Who Desired Her - Эбби Грин, Jennifer Lewis - Страница 13

SALMAN smiled, and it was feral, and it made something deep inside Jamilah shiver with anticipation. ‘I think I like you even more when you’re dominant and bossy.’

Before she could make a retort Salman was walking her back until she felt herself thud against the door again. His head descended, and nothing but delicious heat and sensation concerned Jamilah any more. She held him close, fingers tangling in his hair. Their tongues duelled fiercely, as if they couldn’t get enough of one another.

She’d hungered for him for too long. Desire was overflowing and all-encompassing, and she didn’t have a hope of resisting—not that she could have after her provocative little speech. Jamilah had no idea where that confidence had come from, but knew she’d gone that route in a bid to feel as if she was the one in control.

But that and every other coherent thought fled when she felt Salman’s hands on her back, pulling down the zip of her dress. His mouth left hers and followed the line of her jaw down to her shoulder, where she could feel him pulling down the strap of her dress. Her breath came jerkily, her hands dropped, and she sagged back against the door, her legs trembling. They’d gone from zero to a thousand in thirty seconds on the arousal scale.

Salman pulled the strap down her arm and she could feel her dress gaping open at the back. Nothing could stop it from falling down now, and exposing one bare breast. In the dim light he pulled back for a moment and looked his fill. All Jamilah could do was concentrate on not passing out with the intensity of the desire pulsing through her. She felt her breast grow heavy, and its peak tightened unbearably. She bit her lip to stop herself from begging Salman to touch her there.

She felt so wanton, and almost cried out when Salman cupped the fleshy weight and said throatily, ‘So beautiful … I’ve dreamed of this, Jamilah. I’ve dreamed of you.’

His thumb passed back and forth over the throbbing peak, and when he bent his head and licked around it before sucking it into his mouth she did cry out, holding his head with her hands.

Desperation mounted through her as the memory of the bliss only he could evoke was awoken within her core. ‘You …’ she said breathily. ‘I want to see you.’

Salman stopped his luxurious lavishing of attention on her breast and stood up. With sheer sensual grace and ease of confidence he tugged off his outer robe, and then the thinner under-robe. He kicked off his shoes, his eyes never leaving Jamilah’s even though she couldn’t help but look down and take her fill of his magnificent broad chest. He’d changed since she’d last seen him naked. He’d filled out even more and was truly a man. Broad-shouldered and leanly muscular.

The loose pants barely clung to his narrow hips, and his hands went there to undo the tie. Within seconds they’d fallen to the floor and he stood before her naked and proud, his erection making her eyes go wide. She’d forgotten how big he was.

He came close again, and tipped up her chin with a finger. Then he slid the other strap of her dress down the other arm until her dress fell to her waist. With a gentle tug from his hands it joined his clothes on the floor. Now all she wore were black lace panties and her high heels. Salman looked down her body. Jamilah could feel little fire trails wherever his eyes rested, and between her legs she was aching for his touch.

He reached and took the pin out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders, and then he said huskily, ‘Are you wet for me, Jamilah?’

Jamilah groaned softly in eloquent answer as Salman trailed his index finger down and through the valley of her cleavage. She’d been wet for him since the moment she’d heard the helicopter bring him back to Merkazad.

And then she groaned even louder as Salman dropped to his knees before her and slipped one shoe off and then the other, looking up at her, black eyes glittering wickedly. ‘I want to taste you.’

He pulled her panties down over her hips, down her legs and off. Then he gently pushed her legs apart before taking her right leg and hooking it over his shoulder, opening her up to him.

Jamilah was gone beyond any point of return, and had to put a fist to her mouth when she felt his breath feather through her dark curls. His tongue lashed out and laved her secret inner folds, finding where her clitoris throbbed for attention. She was a helpless captive to this sensual onslaught. She bit her hand, her body spiralling towards the most intense orgasm she’d ever had as Salman licked without mercy until everything exploded around her and went black for a second, her whole body throbbing in the aftermath.

He held her legs when she would have collapsed in a heap, their support completely gone. When she’d recovered enough to focus again, he rose up in a smooth move and lifted her into his arms. Jamilah was boneless. But being held in Salman’s arms with her naked breasts against his chest was making little tremors of arousal start up all over again.

This was how it had been between them—intense and furious. Every time. Salman laid her down gently on his bed and stood up to look at her for a long moment. His intent gaze made her feel sensual and womanly. His obvious arousal made a heady pleasure wash through her in waves. But then she couldn’t stand it any longer. She held out a hand. ‘Salman … I want you.’

To her relief he came down on two hands over her and said gruffly, ‘I want you, too. So much it hurts.’

She twined her hands around his neck and pulled him down on top of her, relishing his heavy weight and that potent hardness between her legs. She spread her legs wide and said huskily, ‘Show me where it hurts and I’ll kiss it better.’ She wasn’t unaware of the symbolism of her kissing away his hurts, of wanting to heal him, and emotion made her chest full.

He touched a finger to his mouth. ‘Here …’

Jamilah reached up and pressed her mouth to his, her tongue darting out to lick and taste, teeth nipping gently at his lower lip.

She pulled back and Salman’s eyes glittered. He pointed to his chest, ‘Here, too …’

Jamilah ran her hands down the sides of his powerful torso, feeling a shudder run through him, and pressed her open mouth to his chest, moving down to find a blunt nipple and licking him there before tugging gently on the hard nub.

He shifted back and his erection slid tantalisingly along the moist folds of her sex. Jamilah’s hips lifted towards him instinctively. She ached for him so badly that she moaned in despair when he moved away for a moment to don protection.

But then he was back, pressing down on top of her, kissing her hungrily. With a powerful move he thrust into her, making her gasp at the sensation. It had been so long for her that she was tight, and she shifted to accommodate Salman’s length.

As Salman started to move, though, the tightness eased, and she could feel that delicious tension building and building. A light sweat broke out on her skin. She wrapped her legs around Salman’s back, causing him to slide even deeper, and she felt his chest move against her breasts with his indrawn breath. With ruthless and relentless precision he brought them higher and higher, until there was nowhere else to go. For a second Jamilah felt a moment of fear at the intensity of the climax about to hit, and when it did all she could do was cling on to Salman until she felt him tense, and then the powerful contractions of her orgasm sent him over the edge, too.

For a long moment there was nothing but the sound of their ragged breathing and the pounding of their hearts. Salman eased his weight off her and she felt suddenly bereft, and hated herself for feeling like that. She remembered from before that Salman had never really indulged in post-coital tenderness, so she was shocked when he reached for her and pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her, cradling her bottom with his thighs. She could feel him, still semi-hard, and blushed.

She lay there for a long time, listening to Salman’s breaths deepen and even out. She couldn’t sleep. She was too wound up in the aftermath. She recalled her blatant provocation of Salman and winced. He might have shown her a more vulnerable side of himself than she’d ever seen, and he might have revealed that he hadn’t intended to be so cruel in his rejection of her, but she knew that he would not welcome recognising that. He was too proud, had been invulnerable for too long. And he would lash out.

Wanting to be gone when he woke, dreading seeing his mocking visage at her easy capitulation, she carefully extricated herself from his arms and reached for a robe that was at the end of the bed. She pulled it on and tied it with shaking hands. She looked at Salman, lying sprawled on the bed like a marauding king or a pirate, and before he could wake walked out of the room and straight to her own, where she went into the bathroom, dropped the robe, and stepped into a hot shower.

She willed the tears not to come, hating herself for her weakness. Suddenly all her recent bravado was gone and she was the same soft-hearted naïve Jamilah, who hadn’t learnt a thing about self-protection. Suddenly she heard a sound, and whirled around to see a naked Salman standing at the door of her shower. Ridiculously she covered her breasts and spluttered, ‘What the—?’

He was grim. ‘I’d bet money right now that you haven’t slept with anyone in a long time. You were almost as tight as the first time we slept together.’

Water was getting into Jamilah’s eyes, and humiliation nearly made her feel nauseous. She spluttered again. ‘That is none of your business.’

‘Well, if it’s any consolation, I haven’t been able to sleep with anyone since I kissed you at the Sultan’s party last year.’

Salman stepped into the steam of water and it sluiced down his olive-skinned body. His admission took the sting out of Jamilah’s humiliation. ‘You haven’t?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Not until I saw you again have I wanted to touch anyone.’

‘But … the blonde woman in the castle that morning?’

He grimaced and said curtly, ‘She followed me and wouldn’t get out of my room. I hadn’t slept in nights, and I was too exhausted to carry her out.’

He hadn’t touched her yet, and Jamilah’s hands were still over her breasts. Salman reached out and took them down. His eyes turned sultry and dark, and all Jamilah’s recent feelings of recrimination dissolved like ice on a hot coal. She was mesmerised by his statement and by him.

He took some soap and started to lather it up, and then his hands smoothed over every part of her body, soaping and washing. She leant back against the wall, her eyelids heavy, and could only watch as Salman became more and more visibly aroused. He turned her round and came up behind her, snaking arms around her to cup her soapy breasts in his hands, his fingers trapping her nipples until she squirmed against him, his erection sliding tantalisingly between the globes of her bottom.

She felt him reach down over her belly and lower, between her legs, to where she was hot and slippery with renewed arousal. He muttered roughly, ‘I can’t wait … put your hands on the wall …’

She obeyed him wordlessly, and felt him pull her back more, then spread her legs. With a keening cry of frustration she felt him guide himself between her legs, until he could surge up and into her heat.

One hand touched her, flicking her clitoris, his other hand was on her breast, kneading and moulding the weighty flesh. Jamilah gasped for breath, struggling to retain some sanity as the water sluiced over them, heightening everything.

The climax came swiftly, rolling over them like a huge wave and throwing them high. Jamilah gasped, head flung back, as Salman pounded into her, every powerful thrust of his body sending her hurtling into another climax. With one final thrust he stilled, and she felt his release spill deep inside her. Only the faintest of alarm bells went off. She was too stunned, trembling all over in the aftermath.

Salman gently turned her around and gathered her close, settling his mouth over hers in a brief kiss. ‘Are you okay?’

Jamilah could only nod. She was speechless, and just let Salman lift her out of the shower and wrap her in a huge towel. She’d been wrong. It had never been like this before. It had been amazing, yes. But this … this transcended everything that she had experienced with this man before. It was as if she’d had an extra layer of skin before, but now it was gone. And in a way it was; she was no longer an idealistic virginal innocent …

He dried her, before drying himself, and wrapped her hair in a towel. He hitched another towel around his waist and led her out to the bedroom, to sit beside her on the end of the bed.

Jamilah’s brain was still numb from an excess of sensation and pleasure. Slowly reality trickled back, and Jamilah saw that Salman had his arms resting on his legs, head downbent. As if he could feel the weight of her gaze, he looked up. She saw that there was a grim set to his face.

‘I didn’t use protection.’

An old pain made Jamilah feel weak inside. She hadn’t even noticed that they hadn’t used protection. She forced out through numb lips, ‘It should be fine. I’m at a safe stage of my cycle …’

She looked away, to a spot on the floor, and knew in that moment that she had to tell him what had happened. She didn’t know if it was out of a desire to inflict pain because he’d made her feel so vulnerable, or out of a genuine necessity to let him know that for a brief moment he’d been a father.

She said quietly, ‘Anyway, I’d know if I was pregnant after a couple of weeks.’

She could feel his look, his frown. ‘What do you mean? How would you know?’

She took a shaky breath. ‘Because I was pregnant before and the symptoms hit me almost immediately. But about a month after I fell pregnant I lost the baby.’

He turned her to face him, but instead of seeing the dawning of understanding all she saw was compassion. ‘Is that why it’s been so long since you were with anyone?’

It took a long second for her to realise that he wasn’t putting two and two together. Could he really be so obtuse? Jamilah wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. And suddenly her desire to tell him the truth faded. What purpose would it serve when he clearly couldn’t believe for a second that she spoke about him? And after everything he’d told her last night? Treacherously, she didn’t want to give him something else to feel guilty about, and she hated herself for that weakness because it meant she was just as lost to him all over again.

She brushed his hand aside and said, ‘Something like that … Look, I’m really quite tired. I’d like to go to sleep now. Alone.’

To her intense relief, after a long moment when he clearly didn’t know what to do with the information she’d just given him, he said, ‘Are you sure you want to be alone?’

Jamilah nodded, and with a last look Salman got up and left the room. Jamilah got into the bed with the towels still wrapped around her hair and her body. She curled up in a ball as silent tears trickled down her cheeks and she grieved for the baby who’d never had a chance.

Salman lay awake for a long time, thinking about what Jamilah had revealed. Hearing that she’d been pregnant with another man’s child sent all sorts of ambiguous emotions to his gut. One in particular felt very similar to the jealousy he’d felt earlier.

He’d always vowed to himself that he wouldn’t bring a child into this overpopulated world. The main reason being that he was quite simply terrified that he wouldn’t be able to protect it from the terrors that were out there. From the terrors that he himself had witnessed, which he felt were indelibly marked in his blood and might possibly be passed down to a son or daughter. That was why he’d taken the drastic decision to have a vasectomy nearly ten years previously.

He’d mentioned his lapse about protection more out of a concern to keep them both safe from disease or infection. But Jamilah, understandably enough, had assumed he’d been concerned about pregnancy. He hadn’t corrected her as he’d never told anyone about the vasectomy. But just thinking of it brought his mind back to how it had felt to take Jamilah like that, skin on skin, and arousal flared all over again.

He grimaced and rolled over, punching a pillow before settling his head on it. He could see now what had added shadow and depth to Jamilah in the intervening years, and curiously Salman had to battle down an urge to find out more … to protect.

The following day Jamilah felt paranoid—as if everyone was looking at her. Could they see where it felt as if a layer of skin had been stripped off her body? Thankfully she was caught up in meetings for most of the day, so she didn’t have to cope with facing Salman. Eventually she went to the bathroom to see if there was something on her face, and grimaced at her reflection. Despite the fact that she’d not had a good night’s sleep her skin glowed, and her eyes were so bright they looked almost feverish.

Her lips seemed to be swollen, and they tingled at the memory of Salman’s kisses. As if on cue she felt her breasts tighten and her nipples harden against the lace of her bra. She wanted him even now. She stifled a groan of despair.

Just then an acquaintance came out of a cubicle.

Jamilah composed herself and smiled at the woman, and washed her hands. The other woman smiled back, and was about to go, but then she turned and said hesitantly, ‘I know it’s not my place, but I feel you should know that Ahmed, Sultan Sadiq’s aide, has been spreading rumours about you and Salman al Saqr …’

Jamilah flushed, mortification rising upwards. Stiffly she said, ‘Thank you for letting me know.’

The woman walked out and Jamilah faced the mirror again. She sighed. No wonder people had been looking. She couldn’t really blame the other man; that was effectively twice that Salman had upstaged him. But as of now her reputation was muck. Not that she was really worried about that; she wasn’t bound by the same strictures as a lot of women from her part of the world. She had no family, and one of her parents had been European, so she’d always been something of an anomaly.

But it would be all over the place by the end of the day that she was sleeping with Salman, and he would have another very public notch to his bedpost.

She stood tall and smoothed her hair, before leaving the bathroom with her head held high. She had nothing to feel ashamed about except for her own very personal regret that she’d let herself be seduced by Salman all over again, despite all her lofty protestations.

‘I have to go to a charity function tonight. I’d like you to come with me.’

Jamilah looked at Salman. He was dressed in a tuxedo again, and he’d been waiting for her when she got back to the suite. She was trying not to succumb to his intensely masculine pull—especially when she remembered the previous night. She was about to say no—she wanted to say no—and yet she hesitated. There was a quality to Salman’s wide-legged stance which should have suggested power and authority, but which actually made Jamilah think of him as being vulnerable.

‘What charity?’

Salman’s face was unreadable. ‘It’s a charity I founded some years ago.’

Jamilah knew she couldn’t stop the shock from registering on her face, and she saw Salman note it and smile cynically. ‘You didn’t have me down for a philanthropist, I see.’

Jamilah blanched at the fact that Salman was constantly surprising her with his multi-faceted personality, and got out something garbled, her curiosity well and truly ignited now, despite her best intentions.

‘The charity is in someone else’s name. They head it up publicly, and lobby for funding, but essentially it’s my project.’

A thousand questions begged to be answered, but Jamilah held back. She couldn’t not go now. ‘Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready.’

Salman inclined his head and watched as Jamilah went to her bedroom. He’d actually been afraid she’d say no, and that realisation sent a feeling of nausea to his gut. He released a long breath, his heart hammering against his chest. He had no idea why he’d felt compelled to ask her. But some force had made him wait for her, and as soon as he’d seen her the words had spilled out. Frustration had been gnawing at his insides all day at being apart from Jamilah, and he didn’t like it. Yet here he was, ensuring she be at his side for the whole evening and, more than that, witnessing him in a milieu that he’d never shared with anyone else. But then, he thought angrily, he’d spilled his guts to her only the other night, so why stop there?

The earth was shifting beneath his feet and he couldn’t stop it. His desire for her burned even more fiercely now that it had been re-ignited, and in all honesty any woman he’d been with in the intervening six years was fading into an inconsequential haze.

He paced impatiently while he waited, and then he heard her. He turned around, already steeling himself against her effect, but it was no good. She was like a punch to his gut. A vision in a long swirling strapless dress of deep purple, which made her smokily made-up eyes pop out. Her hair was down around her shoulders.

Unable to stop himself, he walked over to her and cupped her jaw and cheek in one hand. He felt a delicate tremor run through her body, the hitch in her breath, and saw how her stunning eyes flared and darkened. Something exultant moved through him.

Words came up from somewhere deep inside him, and he had no more hope of holding them back than he would have of stopping an avalanche. ‘You’re mine, Jamilah.’

Her eyes narrowed, became mysterious. She was shutting herself off and he railed against it. ‘And everyone knows it, Salman.’ She smiled cynically. ‘After your little theatrics last night we’re the hot topic of the moment.’

Salman felt fire flare in his belly at the thought of that man touching Jamilah. He growled out now, ‘Good. Because we’re not finished yet, you and I.’

He bent his head and unerringly found her mouth. She resisted at first, but Salman used every sensual weapon in his arsenal until he could feel her curve softly towards him and her mouth opened on a delicious sigh. He plundered her sweet depths until she was clinging to him, and he was rock-hard and aching all over.

He pulled back and for a few seconds her eyes stayed closed, long lashes on flushed cheeks. He bit back a groan. But then her eyes flicked open and spat blue sparks at him. She trembled in his arms even as she said huskily, ‘One more night, Salman. That’s it. We go back to Merkazad tomorrow, and what we’ve had here is finished.’

Jamilah knew that after hearing the revelation of what Salman had endured as a child she wouldn’t be able to keep up a façade of being unmoved while they made love for long. She longed to take him in her arms and comfort him, soothe his wounds, but he couldn’t be making it any clearer that that was the last thing he needed or wanted.

Everything within Salman automatically rejected Jamilah’s ultimatum, and yet he felt the desire to protect himself, feeling vulnerable for the second time in the space of mere minutes. First when he’d asked her to the function, and now this … Her ultimatum shouldn’t be affecting him. He should be welcoming the prospect of his freedom. Hadn’t he told her what to expect? Why shouldn’t she want this to end? Any sane woman would …

He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘If that’s what you want …’

Her jaw tightened, and Salman longed to make it relax again, but Jamilah bit out, ‘Yes, that’s what I want. This ends here in Paris, for good.’

Anger and something much more ambiguous rose up around them as Salman reached for Jamilah’s hand and took it. ‘Fine. Well, let’s get going, then. We don’t want to miss a moment of our last night together.’

Our last night together. Even now, minutes later in the car, Jamilah had to struggle to beat back the prickle of tears. The realisation that she was still desperately in love with Salman was not so much a realisation as more a kind of resignation to her fate. How could she have thought for a second that she wasn’t still in love with him? And, worse, falling even deeper all over again …

Her brave words that this would be finished in Paris still rang hollow in her head, because she knew it was just her pathetic attempt to make Salman think she was immune to him. She knew damn well that when they got back to Merkazad if he so much as touched her she’d be in his bed in a heartbeat. The only protection she could hope for was that if she went back to the stables and stayed there she’d be safe. Pathetic. She’d hide from him amongst the horses and take advantage of his fear, because she knew she wouldn’t be able to trust herself to be near him. When she thought of that, she automatically wanted to help him get over his fear. Pathetic.

At that moment he took her hand and urged her towards him along the back seat of the car. His face was in shadow, all dark planes and sculpted lines, and she couldn’t resist. When he bent his head and took her mouth in a soul-stealing kiss she gave herself up to the madness.

She was dizzy after Salman’s thorough kisses by the time they reached a glittering hotel at the foot of the Champs-Elysées, and it was only when they were walking in that Jamilah realised Salman was nervous. He was gripping her hand. She looked up at him but his face was impassive.

An attractive middle-aged brunette was waiting to greet them in an immaculate dark suit. Salman introduced her to Jamilah as the co-ordinator of the charity. Their French was rapid, but Jamilah could keep up as she was fluent, too. The woman was explaining that everyone had just finished dinner and were ready to start listening to the speeches, and then an auction would take place. Salman nodded, and they followed the woman in through a side door and took a seat at a table near the front of the thronged ballroom.

Jamilah was aware of the way the energy in the room had zinged up a notch when people noted Salman’s arrival, and of the intensely appreciative regard from women.

It was only when the speeches started that Jamilah realised which charity it was, and a jolt of recognition went through her. She’d read about it only recently when it had won a prestigious award. It was in aid of children who had suffered as a result of being drawn into conflict, and most especially for the notorious child soldiers of war-torn African countries. The charity was renowned for blazing a trail in setting up schools and psychological centres for those children, where they could go and be safe and get counselling to deal with their horrific experiences, with the view of either rehabilitating them with their families, if it was appropriate, or taking care of them till they could be independent.

Very few other charities offered such comprehensive, all-encompassing long-term care. No wonder Salman had set it up; he’d never had a chance of that kind of care to get over his wounds.

She watched dumbly as a young African man of about eighteen took to the podium. With heartbreaking eloquence he spoke of his experiences as a child soldier and how the charity had offered him life-saving solace. He was now living in Paris and attending the Sorbonne, having begun a law degree. By the time he’d finished talking Jamilah and many more in the auditorium had tears in their eyes. He got a standing ovation.

As he came off the podium he came straight over to Salman, who gave him a huge hug. He introduced the boy to Jamilah, who was too humbled to say anything more than a simple greeting. And then the crowd surrounded him and Salman sent him off with a wink. Jamilah could see how moved Salman was, too, with a curious light that she’d never seen before in his eyes.

He looked at her and she opened her mouth, questions and emotions roiling in her belly and her head. Still with that serious light in his eyes, he put a finger to her mouth and said enigmatically, while shaking his head, ‘I don’t want to talk about it—not tonight. But perhaps you can understand why I set it up …’

She could see the way his jaw had firmed, the determined glint in his dark eyes. She recognised his intractability. Eventually she nodded. And the obvious relief in his expression made her heart flip over in her chest. She’d just fallen a fathom deeper in love with Salman.