The Oil Tycoon and Her Sexy Sheikh (5 page)

He had done all of that. She’d spent a couple of hours looking him up online and found lists of publications and conference presentations. She knew how influential Khaled’s work was and how highly his fellow academics rated him. She could only guess how much more he would achieve if he had the freedom to continue.

“What was your side of the bargain?”

“That I would spend part of every year in Saqat, and that when he needed me, I would go home.”

“But you don’t want to.”

He sighed. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It is my duty.”

“I see. That’s why this deal matters so much to you. You need to show your people that you will do your duty to them.”

“Yes.”

“We can negotiate.”

He let go of her and walked down to the edge of the water. “You know there aren’t any substantial negotiations to be done,” he said eventually, without turning to face her. “The lawyers are happy with the contract. It’s a fair deal, and MCI Oil is the right company.”

“But?”

“But this.” He gestured expansively out to sea.

She took a moment to take in the familiar view of the gray water, choppy with white foam, sparkling in the sunlight. Birds circled overhead, calling to each other with loud, rough sounds. In the distance, a fisherman’s trawler chugged slowly out into the deep waters. The North Sea didn’t have the tranquil beauty that city dwellers demanded of their holiday destinations. It was wild and harsh, with a raw appeal that took her breath away.

“Nature is resilient.”

“That does not give us license to abuse her.”

“No.”

“I was hoping that coming here would help me get things clear in my head. Being on the water usually helps me work out what to do.”

“You’ll do the right thing.”

“I have to do the right thing.” He paused. “I just wish I knew what it was.”

Chapter Four

Olivia still wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing, but it was Khaled’s last night in Scotland and something fundamental had changed between them out on the island. The deep pull of physical desire was still there, but it was more than that. He bore so many burdens that she had not known about. He cared so much for the world, but he didn’t appear to have anyone who cared for him. At least for one night she could do that.

They barely spoke in the boat on the way back. Occasionally, Khaled rested his hand over hers on the rail, or hooked an arm around her waist when the waters grew choppier. Easy contact that went beyond friendship. He wouldn’t pressure her to abandon her scruples, but his invitation was there in every gesture. One night that no one else would ever know about. She could give him that.

She made up her mind.

She took a deep breath and knocked on his bedroom door.

Khaled opened it so fast she knew he must have been waiting for her. He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to enter.

“I brought two glasses.” She handed them over along with the decanter of whisky.

“You can pour while I build the fire.” He built a pyramid of logs, with practiced skill. Long fingers placed the kindling deftly in the gaps and added crumpled newspaper around the base. She smiled at the concentration in his face. He would be like this with his work: intensely focused and supremely competent.

When he was satisfied, he glanced over his shoulder at Olivia. “Do you want to light it?”

“It’s your fire,” she told him. “You should light it.”

“Are you sure? It’s the fun part.”

“No, you can do your caveman thing.”

Khaled grinned and took the box of matches. He struck one right on his first go, and held it to the corner of the newspaper. Bright orange flames shot up immediately at each point where Khaled held the match. He tossed the remnant of the match onto the fire and sat back on his haunches to monitor its progress.

“The chimney’s drawing well,” she said after a few minutes, when the fire had well and truly caught.

“Seems to be. Come and sit with me.” He was the very image of temptation, grinning up at her from the flickering light of the fire, inviting her into the circle of sensuous pleasure. She was on the point of refusing when he added, in a low husky voice, “I promise not to bite.”

That wasn’t what she was afraid of. Still, she went to join him on the carpet in front of the fire and handed him a cut-glass tumbler with a good inch of whisky. She clasped her hands around her knees and rested her chin on top. Next to him, but signaling her inaccessibility. They sat in companionable silence, watching the fire burn deeper into the pine logs. Occasionally, Khaled took the poker and rearranged the wood, letting the oxygen fuel the flames. He laid the poker aside and shifted so that he was behind Olivia, his long legs stretched out on either side of hers. He took her empty tumbler from her hand and set it beside his.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

His arms circled her lightly, enough that she felt wanted, but not so much that she felt trapped. His breath was warm against the exposed skin of her neck. His scent was deep and rich and masculine with whisky and smoke. Olivia leaned comfortably against the hardness of his chest and relaxed.

“Did you grow up in this house?”

Surprised by the question, Olivia twisted her head to look at Khaled. “Yes. Why?”

“It’s very big. And cold.”

“I suppose so. I’m used to it, though.”

“Were you lonely here?”

She turned away again, staring into the depths of the fire. “Not when I was little.”

“But you are now?”

She took a deep breath. “Since my mother died, yes.”

Khaled’s embrace tightened perceptibly and his hand stroked hers softly. “I am sorry. Was it recent?”

“I was eight years old.”

He stilled. “So young.”

Olivia blinked back her tears fiercely and continued with a steady voice. “It was a long time ago.”

“And you have been lonely ever since. You didn’t have any brothers or sisters?”

“No.” She’d done her best to be the son she thought her father would have preferred. She’d worked hard at school. She hadn’t bothered him with requests for clothes or makeup. She’d studied engineering because she hoped it would please him.

“I’m too warm here.” The fire warmed her front and Khaled her back. The whisky warmed her from the inside.

His long fingers tangled in the hem of her sweater. “You could take this off.”

This was her moment. This was
their
moment, and in that instant, Olivia determined to make the most of it. She pulled the sweater over her head and turned to face him.

“Olivia?”

“Mm.” She didn’t want to talk anymore. She leaned forward and showed Khaled exactly what she wanted, with her lips on his and her hands gripping his shirt for balance. He let her take the lead, exploring and tasting.

Kissing Khaled was as natural as she remembered from earlier. It felt as though it was what her body had been designed to do. She knew instinctively to arch her body in the way that helped his hand find the curve of her breasts and the hard, sensitive nipples that his fingers sought. She sighed into his mouth, and he responded with a deeper, harder kiss, focusing Olivia’s world into that one scintillating touch.

For a while it was enough. The connection between them expressed everything she felt and returned everything she wanted, but the more she took, the more she needed to feel. She pushed her hands under his shirt, skating her fingers over the hard, unyielding planes of his chest. He anticipated her needs, yanking his shirt over his head, and pulling her mouth back onto his before she had a chance to do more than glance at his naked torso. She let him kiss her again, but before long the impulse to taste every inch of the sculpted lines of his cheek and jaw took over.

“Olivia,” he muttered, “are you sure about this?”

“Mm,” she replied, hoping that would be enough to satisfy him. She tilted her head upward and caught his lips with hers to keep him quiet and help him get the message. But soon—too soon—Khaled was pulling away.

He clamped his hands around her head and held her so that he was gazing down into her eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Dry mouthed, unable to speak, she nodded.

He moved fast, swiftly claiming her lips in a possessive kiss. She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. Tangled in each other’s arms, they toppled sideways, pulling away each other’s clothes, until eventually they lay naked in the firelight.

He paused, raising himself on one elbow, to survey her. Olivia knew she was blushing furiously. No man had ever studied her like this, with all the curiosity and precision of a scientist. Under Khaled’s examination, she didn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. Her far from perfect body, with all its lumps and bumps, had never felt so beautiful as it did now, warmed by the flickering light of the fire and the heat of Khaled’s eyes. Olivia relaxed in his admiration and let him take his time. She had plenty of admiring to do herself.

The sheikh took her breath away. Tanned skin, dark hair, deeply chiseled muscles, and long lean limbs gave his body a physical perfection she had barely imagined possible. But it was the tiny flaws that Olivia found mesmerizing: the puckered scar of an appendix operation; the patch of dry skin above each elbow; the cluster of gray hairs beginning to show behind one ear. He was no fantasy prince, he was a real man, and she wanted him all the more because of it.

“Olivia.” His voice was husky and low. He stroked his hand lazily into the dip of her waist.

“Khaled.”

“Are you on the pill?”

She blinked. He obviously wasn’t quite so carried away in the moment as she had been. Not that it was a bad thing. Someone needed to take responsibility, and she was in no state to do it.

“No.” And even if she were, she’d still be insisting on a condom, just in case.

He nodded and bent to kiss her briefly. “I’ll be right back.”

Olivia drew up her knees and rested her chin on top of them as she watched the fire. It was one thing to sprawl shamelessly naked on the carpet with Khaled admiring her and quite another to do so on her own.

He returned and dropped to his knees beside her.

“Olivia.” It sounded as though he was practicing the name. “Were you always called that?”

“My mother called me Livvy.”

“Livvy,” he repeated softly. “I like it. It’s softer. Sweeter.” Like the kisses he was trailing across her collarbone and down her arm.

She had never thought of herself as soft or sweet. Cold as ice, hard as nails, that was the reputation she had at the office. Only Khaled drew out the tender side of her character. No wonder no one else had ever thought to call her anything but Olivia.

“What about you?”

He lifted his eyes and grinned at her. “I was at a boys’ boarding school. What do you think?”

“I should think you were teased mercilessly. Isn’t that what always happens?”

He laughed, but shook his head. “Not once I showed them what I could do on the rugby field.”

“So what did they call you?”

“The masters called me Saqat, because it is my family name. The boys called me Catty. Kitten. Pussy.”

“Ouch.”

“Never more than once, though.”

No. Khaled wasn’t the sort of boy to have been subjected to malicious teasing or bullying. He had the sort of quiet strength that always commanded respect.

“Livvy?”

She turned in response and found herself in his arms again. This time his kisses were more urgent, though his caresses were still gentle against her skin, leaving tingling trails of sensation in their wake. She let her hand slide down his chest until she found the hardness of his erection. She circled it firmly and grinned at his involuntary shudder.

“Too much?”

“Not nearly enough,” he said, removing her hand and dragging her so she straddled his lap. “In your own time,” he said teasingly.

She leaned forward to brush a delicate kiss across his lips, deliberately letting her breasts fall onto his chest. “What if I want to take my time?”

He groaned. “I’ll die, but at least I’ll die happy.”

She deliberately slowed her movements, teasing and tantalizing until she couldn’t bear it longer. She raised herself up. Khaled set his hands on her hips, helping her balance as she slid slowly, surely down where she most wanted to be. Where, if his groan was any indication, he most wanted her to be.

He sat up, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand pushing into her hair, dragging her up for another deep, intoxicating kiss. After that she remembered nothing, except for Khaled, hard, salty, warm and sleek against her body. Only the heat, the desire, the overwhelming need for more, and then the shuddering, crying, yearning, glittering explosion.

They clung to each other for long moments afterward until finally Olivia shivered. Khaled pulled away slightly and looked at her. “You should have said you were cold. Here.” He shifted them both so she was nearer the fire, with him lying behind her, his arms comfortably holding her against him.

“Mm,” she murmured.

“Better?” Khaled dropped a kiss on her temple.

“Perfect.”

“Again?”

“Oh, yes.” She reached up to kiss him, long and slow and deep. “Take me to bed, Khaled.”

He scooped her up in his arms and laid her in the middle of his bed on the crisp white linens. She reached to link her hands behind his neck. Kissing him, she uncurled her body and pressed it against his. “Show me what you want, Khaled.”

“You,” he whispered back. “I want you, now. All of you.”

“I’m yours.” It sounded like a promise. When Khaled rolled them over, positioning himself above her, she repeated the words again.

“Mine,” he agreed, and took hold of her in a way that left no doubt he meant it.

…

For the first time since he’d arrived in Scotland, Khaled was warm when he woke up. Olivia’s body was lying on top of his, acting like the most deliciously soft hot water bottle. Her hair was tickling his chin and he could feel her slow, deep breaths against his chest. He wondered idly what would happen if they stayed in bed like this all day.

But the first hints of the morning sunshine were sneaking through the gap in the curtain, and Olivia would never forgive him if he let her oversleep. Khaled reached down to curve his hand over her bottom then whispered into her ear. Olivia grunted and twisted away from him. He grinned to himself. He would never have guessed she was grumpy in the mornings. He’d have to find a more pleasant way to wake her up.

Khaled shifted them both so that he could reach her lips and kiss them lightly. Olivia’s mouth curled into a smile, but her eyes remained firmly closed. He trailed kisses across to her ear and then bit gently on her lobe. Her eyes shot open and she opened her mouth to protest. Then her eyes lit on his face and perceptibly she softened.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning,” she mumbled in reply.

“Time to get up, sleepyhead.”

Olivia burrowed back into his shoulder.

“Sweetheart, you can stay here with me all day if you want. But you’ll have to work out what to tell your father when he finds out.”

She sat up reluctantly. “What time is it?”

“Five thirty.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I could have had at least another hour’s sleep.”

Khaled shrugged. “You’re awake now.”

“Huh.”

“So we might as well make the most of it.” His hand slid up her body until it rested comfortably on her breast, with his thumb perfectly positioned over her sweet nipple.

“Khaled!”

“You don’t like sex in the morning?” He started stroking the nipple softly, enjoying her response.

“I like sleep in the morning,” she said, but she sat up, giving him access to her other breast.

It was his turn to take his time. Not teasing, but tempting, dragging her inexorably with him into deep, deep pleasure. At the end, Olivia slumped beside him, sated, but thoroughly awake.

“Time?” she muttered.

“Six fifteen.”

“I’ll go in a minute.”