Diamond in the Desert (12 page)

‘You bet it does.’

He had left at the right time and, though he wouldn’t betray Tyr’s part in the business, he wanted to reassure her. ‘Well, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It seems I must learn to explain myself in future.’

‘Damn right you should,’ she said, crossing her arms.

‘I’m just so glad you’re here—and in one piece.’

‘Thank you for reminding me,’ she said wryly. ‘You know I can’t be angry with you now.’

They were both in the same difficult place. They wanted each other. They both understood that if you laid the bare facts on the table theirs was not a sensible match. The only mistake that either of them had made was wanting more than sex out of this relationship.

‘So maybe we can be friends?’ she said as if reading his mind. ‘Except in business, of course,’ she added quickly.

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘Maybe business too.’

After a long pause, she said, ‘So, tell me about the tent. Do your people always provide you with a harem tent—just in case?’

‘In case of what?’ he prompted, frowning.

‘I think you know what I mean—’

‘Come and sit with me so I can tell you about it. Or don’t you trust yourself to sit close to me?’ he added, curbing his smile.

She chose a spot as far away from him as possible. Again he was reminded of his finely bred Arabian ponies, whose trust must be earned. Britt was as suspicious as any of them. ‘Remember the deer,’ he said.

‘The deer?’ she queried.

‘Remember the deer in Skavanga and how relaxed we were as we watched them?’

‘And then you’ll tell me about the tent?’

‘And then I’ll tell you about the tent,’ he promised.

She hardly knew Sharif, and they sat in silence until—yes, she remembered the deer—yes, she began to relax.

‘This pavilion is a priceless artefact,’ he said. ‘Everything you see around you has been carefully preserved—and not just for years, but for centuries by the people in this camp and by their ancestors. It is a treasure beyond price.’

‘Go on,’ she said, leaning forward.

‘You may have guessed from the lack of seating that this pleasure tent is devoted to pursuits that allow a man or a woman to take their ease. Pleasure wasn’t a one-sided affair for the sheikhs. Many women asked to be considered for the position of concubine.’

‘More fool them.’

‘What makes you say that?’ he asked as she removed the veil from her hair.

She huffed. ‘Because I would never be seduced so easily.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘It’s a shame your nipples are such a dead giveaway.’

She looked down quickly and, after blushing furiously, she had to laugh.

‘Shall I go on?’

‘Please...’

‘After yet another day of struggles beneath the merciless sun,’ he declaimed as if standing in an auditorium, ‘fighting off invaders—hunting for food—the sheikh would return...’

‘Drum roll?’

He laughed. ‘If you like.’

‘How many women did he return to?’

‘At least a football team,’ he teased. ‘Maybe more.’

‘Sheikhs must have been pretty fit back then.’

‘Are you suggesting I’m not?’

She met his eyes and smiled and he thought how attractive she was, and how overwhelmingly glad he would always be that he’d found her in time to save her. He went on with his storytelling. ‘Or, maybe there could be just one special woman. If she pleased the sheikh one woman would be enough.’

‘Lucky her!’ Britt exclaimed. ‘Until the sheikh decides to increase his collection of doting females, I presume?’

She amused him. And he liked combative Britt every bit as much as her softer self. ‘Your imagination is a miraculous thing, Britt Skavanga.’

‘Just as well since it allows me to anticipate trouble.’

‘So, what’s the difference between my story and the way you have treated men in the past? You think of yourself as independent, don’t you? You’re a woman who does as she pleases?’

‘You bet I am.’

‘No one forced any of the sheikh’s women to enter the harem. They did so entirely of their own accord.’

‘And no doubt considered it an honour,’ she agreed, flashing him an ironic look.

‘But surely you agree that a woman is entitled to the same privileges as a man?’

‘Of course I do.’

Where was this leading? Britt wondered. Why did she feel as if Sharif was backing her into a corner? Perhaps it was his manner. He was way too relaxed.

‘So if you agree,’ he said with all the silky assurance of the desert lion she thought him, ‘can you give me a single reason why you shouldn’t take your pleasure in the sheikh’s pavilion...like a man?’

Her mouth opened and closed again. The only time she was ever lost for words was with Sharif, Britt realised with frustration. He was as shrewd as he was distractingly amusing, and was altogether aware of how skilfully he had backed her into that tight little corner. He was in fact a pitiless seducer who knew very well that, where he might have failed to impress her with the fantasy of the harem tent, with its billowing curtains and silken cushions, or even the rather seductive clothes they were both wearing, he could very quickly succeed with fact. She had always been an ardent believer in fact.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
HE
COULD
HARDLY
believe that Sharif had just given her a licence to enjoy him in a room specifically created for that purpose. Crazy. But not without its attraction, Britt realised, feeling her body’s eager responses. But she would be cautious. She had heard things about Kareshi. And she liked to be in control. What if she didn’t like some of these pleasures Sharif was hinting at? Her gaze darted round. She started to notice things she hadn’t seen before. They might be ancient artefacts, as Sharif described them, but they were clearly used for pleasure.

She drew in a sharp, guilty breath hearing him laugh softly. ‘Where are you now, Britt?’ he said.

Caught out while exploring Planet Erotica, she thought. ‘I’m in a very interesting tent—I can see that now.’

‘Very interesting indeed,’ Sharif agreed mildly, and he made no move to come any closer. ‘So I have laid you bare at last, Britt Skavanga?’

‘Meaning?’ she demanded, clutching the edges of her robe together.

‘Have I challenged your stand only to find it has been erected on dangerously shifting sand?’ Sharif queried with a dangerous glint in his eyes. ‘I’ve offered you the freedom of the harem—the opportunity to take your pleasure like a man—and yet you are hesitating?’

‘Maybe you’re not as irresistible as you think.’

‘And maybe you’re not being entirely truthful,’ he said. ‘What do you see around you, Britt? What do your prejudices lead you to suppose? Do you think that women were brought here by force? Do you look around and see a prison? I look around and see a golden room of pleasure.’

‘That’s because you’re a sensualist and I’m a modern woman who’s got more sense.’

‘So quick sex in a corner is enough for you?’

‘I deplore this sort of thing.’

The corner of Sharif’s mouth kicked up. ‘You’re such a liar, Britt. You have an enquiring mind, and even now you’re wondering—’

‘Wondering what?’

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘You don’t know.’

‘That’s no answer to that.’

‘Other than to say, you’re wondering if there can be pleasure even greater than the pleasure we have already shared. Why don’t you find out? Why don’t you throw your prejudices away? Why don’t you open your mind to possibility and to things we
modern-thinking
people may not have discovered if they hadn’t been treasured and preserved by tribes like this.’

‘There can’t be much that hasn’t been discovered yet,’ she said, gasping as she snatched her hand away when Sharif touched it.

‘Did you feel that?’ he said.

Feel it? He had barely touched her and her senses had exploded.

‘And this,’ he murmured, lightly brushing the back of her neck.

Her shoulders lifted as she gave a shaky gasp. ‘What is that? The sensation’s incredible. What’s happening to me?’

‘This is happening to you.’ Sharif explained, gesturing towards the golden dish of cream the women had used to massage her skin. ‘This so-called magic potion has been passed down through the generations. Not magic,’ he said, ‘just a particular blend of herbs. Still...’

They had a magical effect, Britt silently supplied. The scratches she had acquired during her ordeal in the desert had already vanished, she realised, studying her skin. She shivered involuntarily as Sharif’s hand continued its lazy exploration of the back of her neck, moving through her hair, until she could do no more than close her eyes and bask in the most incredible sensation.

‘They put lotion on your scalp as well as on your body, and that lotion is designed to increase sensation wherever it touches.’

And they touched practically every part of her, she remembered, though the women had taken great care to preserve her modesty. She looked at Sharif, and saw the amusement in his eyes. So he thought he’d won again.

She stood abruptly, and became hopelessly entangled in her gown.

‘I’ve heard of veils being used as silken restraints and even as blindfolds,’ Sharif remarked dryly, ‘but why would you need those when you can tie yourself in knots without help from anyone? Here—let me help you...’

She had no alternative but to rest still as Sharif set about freeing her.

She wasn’t prepared for him being so gentle with her, or for her own yearning to receive more of this care. She wanted him—she had always wanted him.

She was still a little tense when he unwound the fine silk chiffon gown—exposing her breasts, her nipples, her belly, her thighs, with just a wisp of fabric covering the rest of her. She concentrated on sensation, glad that Sharif was in no rush. Everything he did was calculated to soothe and please her. He took time preparing her, which she loved. She loved his lack of haste, and his thoroughness, and knew she could happily enjoy this for hours. Sharif’s hands were such delicate instruments of pleasure, and so very knowing where she was concerned.

‘And now the rest of you,’ he said in a tone of voice that was a husky sedative.

Each application of cream brought her to a higher level of arousal and awareness, so that when he slipped a cushion beneath her hips, she understood for the first time what they were for, and applauded their invention. And when he dipped his hands in the bowl of cream a second time, warming it first between his palms...

And when he touched her...

‘Good?’ he murmured.

‘Do you really need me to answer that?’

And at last he touched her where she was aching for him to touch, but his attention was almost clinical in its brevity.

‘Not yet,’ he soothed when she groaned in complaint.

He sat back, and she heard him washing his hands in the bowl of scented water and then drying his hands on a cloth. ‘You need time to appreciate sensation, and I’m going to give you time, Britt.’

She sucked in a shocked breath. Words failed her. Being on the ball in the office was very different from being...on the sheikh’s silken cushions.

‘Why confine yourself to once or twice a night?’ Sharif said, his eyes alive with laughter.

She didn’t know whether to be outraged or in for the journey. When would she ever get another chance like this, for goodness’ sake? And with Sharif’s dark gaze drawing her ever deeper into his erotic world, and the knowing curve of his mouth reassuring her, there was only one reality for her, and that was Sharif.

‘And now you have a job to do,’ he said, breaking the dangerous spell. Removing the cushions, he carefully eased her legs down.

‘What?’ she said, wondering if this was the moment to admit to herself that she would walk on hot coals if that was what it took to have Sharif touch her again.

She followed his gaze to the dish of cream.

Desert robes were intended to come off with the least amount of trouble, Britt discovered as she loosened the laces on the front of Sharif’s robe. As it dropped away to reveal his magnificent chest she realised that she might have found the sight of such brute force intimidating had she not known that Sharif was subtle rather than harsh and, above all, blessed with remarkable self-control.

She was glad when he turned on his stomach and stretched out. She wasn’t sure she was ready for the whole of naked Sharif just yet. This warrior of the desert was a giant of a man with a formidable physique. Using leisurely strokes, she massaged every part of him, though had to stop herself paying too much attention to his buttocks. They might be the most perfect buttocks she had ever seen on a man, buttocks to mould with your hands—to sink your teeth in—but there was only so much cream to spare, she reflected wryly as he turned. ‘Did I say you could move?’

‘Continue,’ he murmured, settling onto his back.

Okay, so she could do this—and with Sharif watching, if she had to. Hadn’t they both seen each other naked in the snow? And was she going to turn her back on Sharif’s challenge? Because that was what this was. She had acted big-time girl-around-town, and now he’d called her bluff as she’d called his at the ice lake. He’d come through that with flying colours—flying them high and proud.

How could she ever forget?

She took her time scooping up more cream in her hands and spent ages warming it until she really couldn’t put off what had to be done any longer. She began with his chest, loving the sensation as she spread the cream across his warm, firm flesh. She moved on down his arms, right to his fingertips where she spent quite a lot of time lavishing care and attention on hands that were capable of dealing the most extreme pleasure—and gasped with shock when Sharif captured her hands and guided them down. They exchanged a look: his challenging and hers defiant.

He won.

Thank goodness.

Sharif had creamed her intimately and she would do the same for him...

Maybe they both won.

She took her time to make certain that every thick, pulsing inch of him was liberally coated with the cream. She was breathless with excitement at the thought of having all of that inside her—

‘So, Britt,’ he said, distracting her momentarily. ‘You’re beginning to see the benefit in delay.’

‘And what if I am?’ she said carelessly.

‘Don’t pretend with me,’ Sharif warned, stretching out, totally unconcerned by his nudity.

As well he might be, she thought, admiring him in silence.

‘So what do you think of my golden room of pleasure?’ he demanded.

‘Not bad,’ she agreed. She’d come across perks in business before, but none like this.

‘So you like it?’ he said with amusement.

‘It’s fascinating,’ was as far as she was prepared to commit. ‘Okay, so it’s fabulous,’ she admitted when he gave her a look.

‘But?’ he queried.

‘It’s got such a vibe of forbidden pleasure—how can anyone be here without feeling guilty?’

‘Do you feel guilty?’

Actually, no. The cream was beginning to do its work. ‘It’s just that this is the sort of place where anything could happen...’

‘What are you getting at, Britt?’

Her throat tightened. ‘I’d like to hear about all the possibilities,’ she said.

And so Sharif told her about the various uses of the hard and soft cushions, and the feathers she had been wondering about. She blushed at his forthright description.

‘What about your sauna in Skavanga?’ Sharif countered, seeing her reaction to his explanation. ‘What about your birch twig switches?’

‘They are used for health reasons—to get the blood flowing faster.’

She wasn’t going to ask any more questions, because she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear Sharif’s answers.

‘Ice and fire,’ he murmured, staring at her.

They held that stare for the longest time while decisions were being made by both of them. Finally, she knelt in front of him, and, reaching up, cupped his face in her hands. That thanks she had intended to give him for saving her life was well overdue. Leaning forward, she kissed him gently on the lips.

Sharif’s lips were warm and firm. They could curve with humour or press down in a firm line. Both she loved, but now
she
wanted to both tempt and seduce. She increased the pressure and teased his lips apart with his tongue, but just as she began kissing him more deeply Sharif swung her beneath him and pinned her down.

‘All that trouble I’ve gone to with you, Britt Skavanga,’ he complained, smiling against her mouth, ‘and all you really want is this—’

She let out a shocked cry as Sharif lodged one powerful leg between her thighs, allowing her to feel just how much he wanted it too.

‘All you want is the romance of the desert and the sheikh taking you. Admit it,’ he said.

‘You are impossible.’

‘And you are incredible,’ he murmured, drawing her into his arms.

‘I do want you,’ she admitted, still reluctant to give any ground.

‘Well, isn’t that convenient?’ Sharif murmured. ‘Because I want you too.’

This teasing was all the more intense because she knew where it was leading. She knew Sharif wouldn’t pull back, and nor would she. Somehow her legs opened wider for him, and somehow she was pulling her knees back and pressing her thighs apart and he was testing her for readiness, and catching inside her—

And she was moving her hips to capture more of him, only to discover that the cream had most definitely done its work. One final thrust of her hips and she claimed him completely. When Sharif took her firmly to the hilt, she lost control immediately. She might have called his name. She might have called out anything. She only knew that when the sensation started to subside he took her over the edge again and again.

They were insatiable. No thrust was too deep or too firm, no pace too fast, or too deliciously slow. Her cries of pleasure encouraged Sharif and he made her greedy for more. He never seemed to tire. He never seemed to tire of drawing out her pleasure, either, and each time was more powerful than the last, until finally she must have passed out from exhaustion.

‘Welcome to my world, Britt Skavanga,’ was the last thing she heard him say before drifting contentedly off to sleep.