Never Seduce a Sheikh (International Bad Boys Book 2) (20 page)

He realized he had his hands in fists, the terrible slick feeling against his fingertips.

“I cannot do this again,” he said thickly. “Because it is not enough. I want more.”

She turned to look at him. “More?”

“I want you to be my lover. I want you whenever and wherever I can get you.” The slick feeling wouldn’t go away. He clenched his fingers tighter. “But I cannot do that. It is selfish and it is wrong.”

“How is it selfish? If I want that too?”

“Because I would be using you. To give me freedom from this control. To give me what I cannot get from anyone else.”

“So? Why can’t we have that? I don’t mind you using me, Sheikh. I’d be using you too.”

“It would not be enough for me, Lily. And I do not think it would be enough for you either.”

She didn’t deny it. “So you’d rather have nothing at all? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.”

“And why do you get to make that decision? Does what I want not matter?”

His throat felt tight, pressure building in his chest. “Of course it does. But I am sorry,
Habibti.
This is the way it has to be.”

Lily stared at him a moment longer, anguish flaring in her gaze. “Why?” she demanded suddenly, fiercely. “Why does it have to be that way? Why can’t you give me more than that?”

“Because I cannot,” he said, rough and harsh and unable to make himself sound less so. “There is too much darkness in me and you deserve better than that. You deserve more.”

Her head went back as if he’d slapped her, dark eyes blazing. “That’s crap, Isma’il. It’s just another excuse. You’re letting something that happened years ago ruin your life and I don’t understand it.”

Anger began to boil up inside him. “And you haven’t been doing the same for the past twelve years?”

Lily’s jaw tightened. “Yes, okay, I admit it. I let what Dan did to me have far too much power for far too long. But at least I had the guts to acknowledge it and move past it.”

The anger spilled over and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to her, gripping her upper arms, hauling her close so she could see. So she could understand. “You think this is easy for me? You think this is simple? I am tainted, Lily Harkness. Khalid’s DNA is mine and I can feel it inside me. I can feel the darkness and violence of him in my blood, in my bones. Staining me.” He took a ragged breath. “I can never get rid of it. I will never be free of it. All I can do is control it and hope to God it never gets out!”

His shout hung in the air, pain and anguish dredged from the bottom of his soul. And he wanted more than anything in the world to take it back. To unsay it. To not make it real.

Lily had gone white and he realized he was holding her far, far too tightly. He released her, trying to hide the way his hands shook. “So now you know why,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “I do not wish to speak of it again.”

*     *     *

She tried not
to tremble at the desperation in his voice. At the terrible honesty with which he’d said the words. That he believed everything he’d said she had no doubt. But he was wrong. So very, very wrong.

“Don’t do this Isma’il,” she said, trying not to make it sound like a plea. “Don’t hurt yourself like this. Punish yourself like this.”

He turned away from her, slipping from the bed, reaching for his clothes. “It is not punishment. It is necessity.”

“It’s not. There’s nothing to be gained from thinking that way about yourself.”

“I told you I do not wish to speak of it again.” He began to pull on his trousers, his back to her, every tall, powerful inch of him taut with suppressed emotion.

She swallowed, her throat constricting with pain. With sorrow for him. For what he refused to see. “Nothing I can say will make a difference to you will it?”

He didn’t reply, bending to pick up his shirt.

Which was all the reply he needed to make, she supposed.

The pain in her throat grew more intense, the ache in her heart sharp, cutting. She could still feel the impression of his fingers on her skin and she knew the feeling would never go away. He’d imprinted himself on her, on her body, on her heart, on her soul. And it hurt. Hurt that he couldn’t see what she did. That he refused to see.

“So that’s all you wanted from me?” she said starkly. “Rough sex and now it’s goodbye?”

Isma’il stilled but didn’t turn around. “You know that is not all I wanted from you.”

“But I mean nothing to you, Isma’il. That’s right, isn’t it?”

He turned round sharply, anger blazing bright in his eyes. “Did you not hear a word I said to you?”

“Oh yes, you wanted more. You wanted me. I heard that. But I also heard that there’s nothing I can say to change your mind. That you won’t even listen when I tell you that you’re not the man you seem to think you are.” She took a harsh breath. “And you know what? That makes me feel worthless to you. That my opinions and my feelings mean nothing.”

“That is not true!”

“Then, why won’t you listen to me? Why won’t you believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to be afraid of?”

A savage anger crossed his features and he took a couple of steps towards the bed. “Why should I believe you? How could you possibly know what it feels like to have blood on your hands? You with your father who loved you. Who cosseted you. Who protected you from the world. You didn’t fight, Lily. You just stood there and took it. So what you would know about violence? About blood? Nothing.” He spat the word at her, radiating fury like the desert sun radiates heat. “You know nothing.”

The accusation speared through her like a crossbow bolt straight to the heart. She felt herself shaking with her own growing rage. How dare he? How dare he say that, use her most vulnerable secret against her.

Lily sprang up from the bed and stood right in front of him, the urge to take a swing at him so strong, she had to clench her hands into fists. “No, I didn’t fight.” She stared right into the depths of his furious gaze. “But at least I didn’t run away into the desert like a coward!”

For a second, she thought he would touch her. Grab her. And her whole soul rose to meet him, wanting it like she’d wanted nothing else in her life.

But then the expression on his face wiped clean, shutting down like an iron door slamming in her face. Withdrawing from her so completely she may as well not have existed.

He said nothing, turning from her to pick up the shoes still on the floor with a slow, precisely controlled movement.

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. This denial was worse than anything she could have imagined.

“I love you,” she said into the silence, three desperate words that would of course mean nothing to him, but she couldn’t let him leave without saying them. Without saying something. An apology. A plea. “I love you, Isma’il.”

The expression on his face didn’t change. “I am sorry, Lily. But I will never love you.”

Her throat felt so tight she could barely swallow. “You’re no better than Dan are you?” she said raggedly. “I thought you were different. But you’re not. You don’t care who you hurt. Just like he didn’t.”

He straightened up, his turquoise gaze like chips of bright glass and just as cold. “Now, at last, you understand.”

She had nothing to say to that. Nothing else to give.

When he turned on his heel and left, she stared at the closed tent flap, fighting back the tears.

Everything in her wanted to go after him. Take his hand. Beg him to stay. But she wouldn’t.

She’d laid herself out for him, made herself as vulnerable as she could be to him. And he’d walked away.

She would never,
ever,
do it again.

*     *     *

Outside, the morning
was already hot, the desert sun heating up the air, the ground, the sand.

But Isma’il felt none of it. It was as if he walked within a sphere of ice. Nothing touched him. He’d cut away every single emotion, every single sensation, his control over himself more complete than it had ever been.

I love you . . .

That only made him more sure he had made the right decision in breaking this off between them. It had been a good decision. A necessary one. He was doing it for her. To keep her safe. To keep himself safe. It was a pity she could not understand that.

In his tent he sat down at his desk, because he had work to do. Much work. But he couldn’t concentrate on any of it, because no matter how hard he tried, little slivers of pain kept creeping under his control. Memories of the anguish in Lily’s eyes. The anger. The shock.

Yes, he
was
just like her coach in the end. Which is what he’d been trying to tell her all along. Finally, she’d understood. Maybe that would help her get over him. Move on. As would he.

A knife slid into his back, cold and sharp, under his ribs. Aiming straight for his heart. More pain. Oh, God, why did that thought hurt so much? She deserved better than him, a man with blood on his hands and the taint of violence in his soul. He didn’t want to hurt her, but all the words in the world would not make any difference to the feeling of taint inside him. To the slick feeling on his fingers.

The pen he’d been toying with snapped in half, the plastic cutting his thumb and he found himself staring down at the cut. At the blood welling from it.

At least I didn’t run away into the desert like a coward . . .

He was not a coward. He was not. Isma’il gave a savage curse, sweeping everything off his desk and onto the floor in one powerful movement. The crash made one of his staff come in, looking concerned. “Your Highness? Is there anything wrong?”

Isma’il shoved his chair back, got to his feet. He had to do something. Destroy Khalid somehow. Get rid of the blood. Scour away the taint of his father’s legacy. Burn it out of himself once and for all. And there was only one place in the world with enough heat for that.

No matter what she said, it was not running away.

“Get me the four wheel drive,” he said curtly. “I am not coming back to the palace.”

“Your Highness?” The man looked puzzled. “Where are you going?”

Isma’il turned away. “Into the desert.”

*     *     *

Lily looked out
through the tinted windows of the limo, staring at the sleek silver Lear jet that stood on the tarmac waiting for her. The Harkness jet ready to take her away from Dahar.

Away from Isma’il.

Her hand gripped the handle of her briefcase tightly. No. She wouldn’t think of him. He’d made his choice when he’d left her tent. When he’d driven out into the desert alone, much to the consternation of his security team and his advisors.

Running away again. The coward.

She set her jaw against the ache in her throat. The burning behind her eyes. No tears. Not for him. She didn’t need him. She was strong, a CEO with a contract for oil that would blow her competitors out of the water. That would consolidate Harkness’s position in the industry and herself at the helm. What could she possibly want with the Sheikh of Dahar? He was just a man, like all men. A man who refused to listen to her, who took what he wanted from her then left her. A man just like Dan.