To Tempt a Sheikh (9 page)

Before she knew what hit her, Harres was lounging with his back to the dune, his endless legs open with her between them, her hips in their V, her back to his chest, her head on his right shoulder. Then he cocooned them both in the
blankets and crossed his arms over her midriff, plastering her to him.

After the first stunned moment, she tried to fidget away.

He tightened his hold, groaned in her ear, “Relax.”

Relax? Was he insane?

And he wasn't only that, he was rubbing his lips against the top of her head, inhaling her and rumbling enjoyment as he talked. “Rest. Get warm. It's far colder than yesterday.”

“W-we have enough blankets,” she protested weakly. “We can roll in them separately.”

“This
is
the best method of body temperature preservation.”

“And to think I reminded you of that!”

His chuckle, reverberating beneath her ear, sent more waves of distress crashing through her. “Conserve your energy, my Talia. Sleep, and I'll wake you up in an hour, maybe two.”

“I—I don't want to sleep.”

“I don't either. I'd rather be awake, experiencing this with you.”

And though she was far from cold, a tremor rattled through her.

He'd just put into words what she felt.

Though his arms were pressing beneath her suddenly aching breasts and her buttocks were pressed to what she suspected, if couldn't credit, was a massive erection, it wasn't sexual. Or not only so. She'd never felt this close to anyone. This intimate. Even during her now almost-forgotten sexual encounters, she hadn't been any closer to experiencing what she did with Harres than she was to one of the stars above.

She sighed, feeling as if her bones had turned to warm
liquid and the rest of her senses had melted in the sluggish heat of her blood. “Stars. They
are
still up there.”

He nuzzled her cheek with his lips. “You don't see them much where you live, eh?”

She sighed in deeper contentment. “Make that don't see them at all. Not for years. But even when I did, I never saw so many. I didn't think there
were
so many. Scientifically speaking, I know there are endless numbers of them in our galaxy alone. But I never thought we could actually see them. There are millions of them.”

Her voice sounded intoxicated to her ears. And she was. With the overpowering mixture of the virility enfolding her and the desert's magnificent menace.

His voice poured directly through to her brain, frying more synapses. “Actually, only about eight thousand are visible to us poor earthlings in any given hemisphere, no matter how clear the skies are. And you won't find any clearer anywhere in the world.”

That piece of info she hadn't known. She turned in his arms languidly, looked up at him. “Don't tell me you counted them.”

“I tried. Then had to borrow good scientists' findings.”

“They seem so much more. But I'll take your word for it. I'm just glad they all showed up tonight.”

“I ordered them to be present especially for you.”

Coming from any other man, that would have sounded like an outrageous—and annoying as hell—line. But somehow, from Harres, this force of nature who seemed to be as one with the powers of this land,
his
land, it didn't seem far-fetched. She did feel as if he had an empathy, an understanding with their surroundings, as if they let him divine their secrets and share their strengths. And then, coming from the man who'd risked his life to save her, who'd lavished such care on her, showed her such admiration and
restraint and solicitude, she could easily believe his wish to please her, to gift her. So even the sentiment behind the claim seemed right, sincere. Profound.

And if an inner voice told her it was his need to learn her secrets that fueled all of the above, she couldn't listen. No one could be that good at hiding ulterior motives. And she had experienced him through the worst that could be thrown at a person. He'd shone through with gallantry and resourcefulness, with kindness and control.

She at last sighed again. “I wouldn't put it past you. So they're your subjects, too?”

“Oh, no. They're just old friends. We have an understanding.”

Just as she'd thought. “I sort of believe you.”

“I could get used to hearing you say that.”

The rolling
r
's of the accent that caressed his perfect English thrummed that chord of ready desire that seemed to have come into existence in the core of her being. Instead of agitating her, it lulled her. She suddenly wanted to sleep. Like this. Ensconced in his power and protection.

She yawned. “You're comfy.”

“
I
certainly am not comfy.” His chuckle vibrated through her. But it was the powerful jerk against her buttocks, what she could no longer doubt was his hardness, seeming to be getting bigger, if that was possible, that lurched her out of her stupor.

He pulled her back against him. “Don't move.”

“But you're…you're…”

“Aroused? Sure. I've been hard as steel since I laid eyes on you. And no, I'm not like that by default. But I don't mind.”

“I thought men didn't mind anything more.”

“I'm not ‘men.' And even though it started out as uncomfortable, veered into painful and is now bordering on
agonizing, I've never enjoyed anything more. I've never felt so alive.”

She squirmed with his every word, only to be struck still when she realized it only made him harder. She'd never known mortification like this. Or arousal.

Her heart rattled her frame, until he pressed her closer to his body and whispered against her cheek, “I'll never do anything you don't invite me to, Talia. Beg me to.”

She believed him. And she sagged back, savoring the way their bodies throbbed in unison. She'd probably be horrified later. But who cared about later when now was here? And like this?

She melted into him, felt her breathing and heartbeats match to his.

Endless minutes of shared tranquility and silent communion later, he kissed her forehead and sighed. “See that star? The one winking azure-blue? I'll call her Talia.”

She nuzzled into his kiss, inviting a few more down her cheek, her core now so hot, so drenched and cramping she was breaths away from inviting more. Begging for it.

She pressed her thighs together, alleviating a measure of the pounding, and choked a thick murmur. “It must already have a name.”

“I don't care. It reminds me of your eyes.”

She giggled. “Maybe you should call it Talia's Eyes.”

“Since it's only one, better yet Talia's Eye. So which will it be,
ya nadda jannati?
Talia's Left or Right Eye? I can foresee the myths that would one day be woven around such a name.”

“Hmm, if I were a Cyclops, we wouldn't have this dilemma.”

“If you were a Cyclops, they'd be the sexiest creatures to ever dominate men's fantasies.”

She snorted. “And among all your skills, you acquired a black belt in far-fetched flirting?”

“You're right. I should have stuck with the truth. That it would dominate
this
man's fantasies. The two-eyed, sexy bundle of cuteness I'm wrapped around right now already does.”

“I bet you wouldn't say that if you saw me in bloodstained scrubs with my hair spiked like a porcupine. Yeah, that ‘atrocious' haircut wasn't for my disguise's sake. That's how I keep my hair out of my way and off my mind.”

“You're talking to the man who found you overwhelmingly arousing when you were sporting a beard. I'd find you sexy if you were covered in mud. Oh, wait…now
there's
an idea.”

“Mud-wrestling fantasies, huh? How mundanely male of you.”

“I don't have those, no. But if it involves you and me, I'll definitely add them to my inventory of fantasies.” She twisted around to glare up at him and he only whistled. “Whoa. Maybe I'll call it Talia's Glare.”

“Since it's harsh and cold, huh?”

“Far from being either, this star, like your glare, is compelling, hypnotic, resolute, indomitable.”

She almost did something stupid. Like kiss the aftertaste of those delicious words off his lips, or swirl her tongue in that solitary dimple that winked in his left cheek when he grinned.

She gave him a pseudo-self-important glance instead. “I'll have you know this glare has my interns and junior residents in the E.R. jumping and remaining in the air until I say down.”

“I believe it.” Suddenly he gathered her tighter. “Would you consider doing that here?”

Her heart veered in her chest. She struggled to spin
around further in his arms, came to lie sideways over him so she could more easily look into his eyes. “You mean work in an E.R. in Zohayd?”

“Actually, I'd love for you to consider training my men and women in field and emergency medicine.”

“Oh…” The idea of remaining in Zohayd after they got through this, the fact that he esteemed her enough to offer her a responsibility like that, and elation at the thought of being where she could see him regularly erupted inside her.

Without thinking of the feasibility of such a scenario, she grinned up at him. “That sounds incredible!” It was only when his eyes blazed in return that she faltered. “I mean, we'll have to, y'know, talk this through when this is over…see if it's even plausible given why I'm here and all and—wait…women? You have
women
in your special forces?”

Impatience spurted in his eyes, probably since she'd changed the subject without giving him an answer. Then they softened again, perhaps in acknowledgment of the difficulties of their situation beyond the real and present danger. “Not many, since it doesn't seem to be one of the career options Zohaydan women prefer.”

“I'm staggered that it
is
an option in Zohayd. That you have any.”

His smile turned whimsical. “There
is
a difference between being a pigheaded, mulish ox and being a male chauvinist pig.”

She rolled her eyes. “I'll never hear the end of that, will I?”

“Do you want to hear it?” he teased.

She thought for a moment. Then grinned impishly. “Nah.”

With that, they both fell silent and snuggled deeper into each other as if by agreement.

After an hour of being melded together in deepening companionship, during which she'd simultaneously managed to remain molten and he to remain hard, they set off again.

 

The third day came. And passed.

At the end of the fourth day, their supplies had been all but exhausted. And there was no sign of the oasis.

On the fifth day, after sunset, as they'd set out on their cycle of hikes and rests, Harres had done something that had dread and desperation taking hold of her.

He'd dumped all their gear.

When she'd protested, he'd fallen silent for a long moment. Then he'd looked at her solemnly.

He'd said that she had no reason to believe he knew what he was doing anymore. But he could no longer afford to go at that pace. Would she trust him to know what they needed to survive, to reach the oasis?

And she'd trusted him.

But they hadn't reached the oasis.

Ten hours later, she'd been unable to go on.

She'd collapsed. Harres had managed to catch her before she hit the ground. He'd laid her down with utmost gentleness, held her in his solid embrace, raining on her soothing kisses and pleas for forgiveness.

She'd succumbed to unconsciousness thinking those would be the last things she felt and heard in her life.

But she woke up to find herself wrapped in the two blankets left with them. And Harres's jacket. She was parched and frying alive in the blistering heat of midday. Emphasis on
alive
.

And she realized another thing.

She was alone.

She struggled out of the tight cocoon, sat up. Harres was nowhere in sight.

He'd left her?

No.
She knew he never would.

But what if something had happened to him? What if their enemies had found them? Would the prince of Zohayd be a bigger hand to gamble with in their quest for the throne? How would they use him? What would they do to him?

She sobbed. No tears came from her dehydrated eyes. She drifted in and out of consciousness. And even in waking moments, nightmares preyed on her. Showed her Harres, abused and worse, and all because he'd come for her….

Oh, God, Harres…please…

Then, as if in answer to her plea, he was there. She knew he wasn't
really
there. She was hallucinating with dehydration.

For this Harres was not the sand-car-and-helicopter-riding modern desert knight, but one on a white horse. Galloping her way as if he rode the wind, as one with the magnificent animal, made of the same energy, the same nobleness and fierceness and determination. Her knight coming to save her.

But there was no saving her. This was the end.

Not that it was too bad. She had only two regrets. That she hadn't saved Todd, and that she had let everything stand in the way between her and Harres.

If she had her time with him to live again, if she had more time with him, she would disregard it all and just be with him, experience all she could of him, while she could.

Now it was too late, and she would never know his passion for real.

What a waste.

Her dream Harres leaped off his horse before it came to a halt, spraying sand in a wide arc with the sudden abortion of its manic momentum. Harres descended on her, the wings of his white shroud spread like a great eagle's, enveloping her in peace and contentment. She was so thankful her intense desire had given her such a tangible last manifestation of the man she loved…yes,
loved
…
.