I Married a Sheik (9 page)

She was an adult, and accepted and expected sensuality to be a part of her life at some point with the right man.

But definitely not now, and definitely not with
this
man, a man who made her knees weak and her head spin just by his mere presence.

A man who seemed to have the ability to reduce her to what her mother had become.

A man she believed to be so like her father it was frightening.

A man she had absolutely no intention of getting involved with on a personal level.

But for the first time in her life she
almost
understood her mother's mistakes. Until now, she'd never experienced that heady rush of overwhelming sexual desire, like a living, breathing beast waiting to devour a woman if she was not careful.

And careful was something her mother unfortunately never learned to be.

She, however, had learned from her mother's mistakes.

Her mother had kept walking into the belly of the beast over and over again, taking her father back time and time again, no matter how many times he'd lied to her, cheated on her, until Faith had lost all respect for her mother. Then came the day her gorgeous, irresponsible father had finally left for good, taking every penny they had and her mother's spirit with him.

It had been devastating for her mother. And just as devastating for a fourteen-year-old girl who had worshipped her father, a father who left her to fend for herself, and left her with a mother who emotionally fell apart at his final betrayal and had to be hospitalized, and was never, ever the same again.

It was a lesson Faith had never forgotten. A lesson in how a woman who was not careful could get caught in a trap of her own making.

Faith knew from an early age she would never get caught in that trap.

Never depend, need or lean on a man. Never lose yourself in the emotional or physical connection to a man so that if he left, he took your joy, your spirit, your will to live with him.

From the moment she'd met Ali, Faith had secretly feared that fate had destined her to repeat her mother's mistakes.

What was it about Ali, she wondered, glancing up at him, that caused her to react so strongly?

Their eyes caught, held, and Faith's heart began a wicked thud. It was as if the music, the other guests, everything faded into the background as she merely lost herself in the depth of Ali's beautiful dark eyes.

She was suddenly so vividly aware of him and his touch, his hand at her back, the press of his chest against her breasts causing them to feel heavy, tight. The feel of his arms around her, holding,
protecting
her.

"You look enchanting this evening." His lips brushed her temple, moved to her ear, sending a ripple of sexual shock waves down to her toes.

Instinctively, she tightened her arms around him, letting her fingers caress the silky hair at the back of his neck.

Lifting a hand, he touched the fiery ends of her hair. It was as soft and silky as he imagined.

"Your hair is beautiful." He drew back to look at her again, his gaze slowly going over her face, an intense look in his eyes as they finally settled on her mouth.

Instinctively, Faith licked her dry lips, aware that Ali's gaze followed the movement of her tongue. It sent a thrill racing through her, weakening her knees.

She glanced at his mouth, that beautifully sculptured mouth. He was so close now his lips were just a heartbeat away.

She wondered what it would feel like to have that mouth on hers, hungry, demanding, fulfilling.

The thought utterly shocked her, and her palms grew damp, her body moist, as she tried to ignore the thought and focus instead on moving her feet, following his lead, but her attention kept drifting to the feel of him, his touch and what it was doing to her.

"You should wear your hair down more often," he whispered again, still watching her with those dark eyes. "It is enchanting."

"Thank you." Pressed against him, she could feel his arousal, feel the barely leashed power of his magnificent body.

Never taking his eyes off of her, Ali stroked a finger down her cheek, across her chin, lifted it to her mouth to gently, sensuously rub it against her bottom lip.

Her breath caught. She felt her reserves slip away and let her gaze linger on his lips. Her own mouth parted slightly, tingling from his touch.

She could feel her breath wither out of her; it was an effort to breathe. She wanted to taste his lips, to feel his mouth on hers. She wanted it with a desperation that shocked her.

As if sensing her desire, his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer until there wasn't room for a breath between them.

Her guard collapsed as she tilted her head up, knowing,
wanting
him to kiss her.

"Faith." Her name was a whispered caress as he lowered his head, and gently, lightly teased her lips with his.

Fire shot through her limbs, weakening them, and she clung to him, wanting more, knowing she was going to get burned and, for the moment, not caring.

Logic deserted her, every warning she'd ever whispered to herself like a mantra evaporated as Ali's mouth, softly, sensuously moved against her, making her ache with need, with desire.

She moaned softly, desperately dragging his head down to deepen the kiss for one riotous moment of undisciplined madness. Only one moment, she told herself. It was all she'd allow herself.

His mouth came down on hers. Not gentle, not coaxing, but possessive, demanding. Claiming all that he'd wanted, desired, needed.

"Oh God." Her words were a plea, a prayer, as she threaded her fingers through the silk of his hair.

Desire, hot and hungry, shot through her system, buckling her defenses. She clung tighter, tightening her arms around him to bring him closer, to hang on as the whirlwind caught her, flinging her into the wanton world of desperate, achy desire.

Need. Sweet Lord, he'd never felt this need, this all-encompassing power to possess a woman, to claim, to put his stamp on her. He was experienced, but had never experienced this jolt of such unbridled desire, hot, dangerous, demanding to be fueled, fed, sated.

He couldn't breathe. His lungs felt as if they were filled with cotton candy. His mind clouded, his senses blurred until all that remained were feelings, the feelings Faith had aroused in him. Wild. Desperate. Frantic.

It caught Ali, stunning him, nearly blinding him with the knowledge that he could be reduced to a mass of hard, aching flesh.

And only that.

By Faith. Plain, simple Faith.

She was not the kind of woman he'd ever imagined, but this moment, in his arms, her response was all he'd ever wanted. Unbridled passion and heat, given freely, unequivocally, with an energy and desire that matched his own.

"Ali."

She moaned his name, and he took the moan with his mouth, opening it slightly, letting his tongue tease her lips, hearing her soft moan again, as she pressed all of her feminine glory against him, standing on tiptoe to return the passion that threatened to engulf them in a blazing inferno.

His hand fisted in her hair, and he tilted her head to better devour, to taste, to savor, knowing that this would never be enough.

It was like waving a pitcher of glistening ice water in front of a man perishing from thirst and telling him he could only have a sip.

One little sip.

All this kiss had done was whet his appetite for more. More of her.

"Oh God." The words came out a husky whisper. With her senses reeling, her mind spinning, Faith struggled against the feelings that engulfed her, fighting for control, for some semblance of sense.

But desire dug in, clawed for purchase, then spread through her. Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her dress, and she rubbed against him, trying to ease the sudden ache, the throbbing that made her want to scream in utter, absolute frustration.

She had been reduced to all that she'd feared her whole life by one kiss.

"Faith." He dragged her closer, trying to absorb her touch, her taste, her scent into his senses.

This was Faith, a woman who, until now, he never realized was far more powerful with her simple clothes and her plain presentation. A woman who disdained him, his title, his bloodlines and even his bank account. A woman who had more feminine power than all of the beautiful women he'd ever encountered all rolled together.

She had the power to not only touch his body but, he realized with a fear he'd not known in years, his impenetrable heart.

His breath was gone, his legs wobbly, his mind reeling with the knowledge that Faith had the power to destroy him with just a kiss. A simple kiss.

But perhaps not so simple.

A kiss that changed the way he looked at her, saw her, thought of her.

And himself.

He felt weak, vulnerable, capable of being hurt.

It frightened him as nothing had since his youth. No woman had ever had such power over him, not since Jalila.

"Ali." Frightened, Faith pulled away from him, trying to take a breath. Her head was spinning. "We—This—" She shook her head, trying to clear it, to step out of the fog, but she was unable to put her tumbling thoughts together coherently.

Somehow the music had stopped, started again. Couples, oblivious to them on the crowded floor, danced around them.

Resolve resurfaced, and with it, the knowledge that she had done the unthinkable. The thing she'd sworn her whole life never to do.

Let physical or emotional need render her senseless. Witless.

Like her mother.

Faith glanced around and realized they were in the middle of a dance floor at an elegant black-tie gala. And she'd been standing here kissing Ali with the abandon of a sixteen-year-old.

Embarrassed, she shook her head, trying to shake some sense back into it.

"I'm sorry, this shouldn't have happened." She had to swallow. Her throat was so dry it was difficult to speak. "We…we can't do this."

Regret, sharp and deep, streaked through her. She knew this man was a danger to her. Knew it, and had walked willingly into his arms.

Just like her mother had done so many times with her father.

The thought was like a splash of cold water and Faith tried to take a step back, to put some much-needed distance between them, hoping distance would quell the heat that was still rocking her body with aftershocks.

"Can't?" Ali looked at her, his face thunderous. Can't was not a word he was used to, people rarely denied him anything. Especially a woman. How could she stand here and deny the most elemental feelings that surged so gloriously between them?

If he wasn't so aroused, so unfulfilled, so filled with longing he would have been amused that she could think such a ludicrous thought.

"I believe it is too late for
can'ts,
Faith." He reached for her again, but she stepped back, out of his reach, holding her hands in front of her like an armor.

"Like it or not, it
has
happened." He would not let her deny something that had so profoundly affected him. Could not let her deny it, not when the evidence of their passion was so visible.

Her eyes were glazed, hazy with passion, a passion he knew had not yet fully developed, or exploded. When it did, he knew it would be a beautiful thing.

Two bright spots of color touched her cheeks, and her mouth—that beautiful, glorious, sensuous mouth—was parted and slightly swollen from their kiss. He wanted to cover her mouth with his again, to sip of her sweetness, to feel her body pressed against his, to feel her heat match his.

"I want you," he said simply, slipping an arm around her slender waist to draw her closer. He couldn't bear to have her so near and yet so far. "You want me. It is not a complicated thing. Do not be afraid of what you feel, of what is between us. It is the most natural thing in the world."

"No." She shook her head, and even though her legs were shaking, she stepped out of his embrace. She wasn't afraid of what was between them—she was terrified of it to the tips of her soul.

"I
don't
want you," she lied, raising her chin and letting her gaze defiantly meet his.

He looked at her long and hard for a moment. "Your mouth tells lies your body denies, Faith." A small, sad smile touched his lips. "Who is lying now, Faith?" he asked quietly. "Who is lying now?"

Ashamed that he'd turned the tables on her, she shook her head. Desire was still roaring restlessly through her. She wanted nothing more than to walk back into his arms, to hold him.

Which was precisely why she knew she couldn't ever go back to that place she'd just visited.

Not ever. It was far too dangerous.

"I'm not lying." She wished her voice was firmer, stronger, more believable. Even to her own ears she sounded weak. It infuriated and shamed her.

"I
don't
want you." Maybe if she kept saying it, it would be so.

"Ah, but I want you." He trailed a finger sensuously down her bare arm, making her body quake, and her blood heat, wanting to prove to her, to force her to see what was between them.

She jerked back, unwilling to admit that just his slightest touch could reduce her to mush. "You can't have me."

She couldn't succumb to passion, couldn't forget all that she'd learned growing up, all the pain and heartache a man like this could bring to a woman's life. To her life.

"Oh, but I will have you, Faith," he whispered confidently, only infuriating her.

"You arrogant…" Her voice trailed off and she caught herself before she said something she knew she'd regret. Her eyes darkened. Anger quickly smothered the passion, making her realize how foolish she'd been. She welcomed the anger; it was familiar, comfortable, something she knew she could handle. "I don't know who you think you are—"

"I thought you knew." His voice had gone soft again, laced with steely determination. "I am Sheik Ali El-Etra—"

"Auggh!" She wanted to smack him. "You're gonna start with that nonsense again? Tossing your title around like I should bow to you?"

"Nonsense?"
His brows drew together slowly as he tried to comprehend what she'd just said to him. No one had ever dared refer to his title as nonsense. He stiffened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "There are those who would bow merely because of my title, Faith."