The Sheikh's Hesitant Bride (Qazhar Sheikhs series Book 7) (5 page)

She squinted at him. "I know what Abby has told me about you. The rich sheikh, the good family, the connections in business. All the surface. But, I don't really know what's beneath the surface," she said. Maybe she'd had too much wine, but she was startled that she'd said such a thing to him.
 

Zarif's scrutinized Rachel. There was a long pause, and the room seemed suddenly very quiet. Was that respect she could see in his eyes? Had she issued a challenge? Was he unused to a woman being so direct with him? So honest and plain-speaking?

Zarif clasped his hands and looked down at them, as if gathering his thoughts. Finally, he looked at Rachel. "How much do you really want to know?" he asked simply.

Rachel met his gaze. "You've heard about me. My childhood. My family. Maybe you could start with that."

Zarif leaned his head to one side, admitting the fairness of that statement. "I didn't grow up in an idyllic, country village," he said with a grin. "But, you already know that part."

Rachel kept her impassive gaze on him, goading him to continue.

"My family are one of the most powerful in Qazhar. We have been instrumental in many of the changes in our country. We have wealth, as you know. Oil, mainly. My mother and father are still with us," he said looking at Rachel. She still refused to respond, needing to know more about him.

"I have two brothers. Together we help manage the family affairs. We each have responsibilities. None of us is married." Zarif looked at her, the pools of his dark eyes suddenly deep. "Yet," he added softly.

Rachel felt something flutter in her middle, but narrowed her eyes, signaling for him to continue. She couldn't exactly be sure, but she felt there had been something odd about the way he had said that last word. She urgently wanted him to speak.

"Two brothers? That's nice. How old are they?"

"I'm the oldest," he replied. "So, I have two baby brothers." He smiled. "They hate being called that," he added with a grin.

Rachel smiled, grateful that he'd shown a different side to himself.

Zarif paused. Rachel waited, but it looked like he already felt he'd said enough. He was withdrawing again. She reached out a hand and placed it over his clasped palms. Surprised at herself for doing that, it was nothing compared to the expression of puzzlement on Zarif's face.
 

It was too late. She'd already done what she thought would draw more out of him. Rachel had a sudden need to know at least something of his private, inner life. Her suspicion of a hint of something troubling lurking inside him hadn't shifted since earlier that day.

"That's it?" she asked.

He glanced at her. "Of course not," he replied. "You see what kind of life I lead."

"I see a part of it," she answered.

"I enjoy life's pleasures," he said. He quirked a brow at her. "To a certain extent. After all. I am a sheikh," he said trying to joke once more. He was trying to pull back again. She could sense it. What was he hiding?

"I'm sure you do." She paused. "What about friends?"

His brows rose. "What about them?"

She hesitated, unsure whether she should continue; whether she even had the right to ask anything personal. But, she'd shared something of her own life. Hadn't she? Maybe she could get him to do the same."Is there anyone special in your life?"

A dark shadow settled over his features. It obscured his thoughts, screened out any immediate reaction to her question. Rachel felt his hands shift slightly beneath hers. She thought he was going to pull away, but he didn't. Instead, he gazed at her, his eyes steady bottomless pools, inscrutable, unreadable.

Rachel was sure he was going to say something. But then, he suddenly slid his hand away from hers and glanced at his watch. "Would you like to continue this somewhere else?" he asked.

She was taken aback by the sudden change in him. She stiffened pulling her hands back onto her lap. "Where did you have in mind?"

He leaned forward, his gaze flickering down appreciatively to her mouth. "My place?" he murmured.

For a moment, she was lost for words. "I have to get up early tomorrow. For work, you know," she said eventually.

Zarif nodded. "For work. Right."

She laughed weakly. "Some of us mortals have to work for a living, you know," she said.

He smiled at that. "Of course."

Then, before she knew what was happening, they were both standing, and he was guiding her to the door, holding it open for her, and she was walking down the hall, wondering what on earth she had just done.

CHAPTER FOUR

They emerged from the club and paused at the top of the steps waiting for the limo to be brought around to the front. Darkness had fallen, although the night air still retained the warmth of the day. Rachel stood next to Zarif and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Are you cold?" he asked shifting as if to start removing his jacket for her.

"No. I'm fine," she replied.

The limo arrived, and they got inside. Zarif took his place next to her on the long soft, leather back seat. The car slid into traffic, its engines almost noiseless. They said nothing to each other for a short while.
 

She was keenly aware of his presence, just as before. He sat very still, peering out of the window on his side. There was an electric tension in the limo. It shimmered between them, made more tangible by the unsatisfactory end to their conversation in the club. She had come so close to unearthing something about him.
 

Why did she feel the need to know? She couldn't understand it. Perhaps he had exerted an unspoken fascination upon her. Maybe it was just something he naturally did with every woman he ever encountered. Was she just one in a long line of near conquests?

Then, Rachel saw Zarif flick a switch next to him, and a dark panel slid up, granting them complete privacy from the driver.

Zarif turned to Rachel. She caught the powerful odor of his scent, saw the easy grace of his movement. His gaze was intense, and she was convinced he wanted to tell her something. Maybe he'd reconsidered his decision to withhold from her.

Zarif slid closer to her, and she moved involuntarily to face him. He glanced down at her, his eyes widening at the sight of her cleavage. There was a sudden hunger in his gaze.

Rachel felt warmth at her core. The way he was looking at her had made something shift inside her body. There was a primal almost feral look in his eyes. She wondered how he had contained that inside himself in the club.

"Rachel," he murmured. His voice was a low growl. She'd never heard her name spoken like that before. Once again sensation curled inside her. She felt the back of the seat, sensed her thighs against the fresh leather. Almost in spite of herself, she moved her thighs together, her shoes pressing against each other.

Rachel saw Zarif's gaze drift down the length of her body, pausing at her middle. Then, it moved purposefully down the length of her thighs and her legs, settling finally at her feet. There was something fiercely erotic about the way he had taken in the sight of her body. It was as if he was drinking in the image of her, slaking his thirst on the details of her body, her dress, her legs, her feet.

He was still inches away from her, but she was sure she could almost feel the heat of him, sense the vital energy of his presence.

The limo shifted in the traffic, and she tumbled toward him. The distance between them was obliterated, and she felt his hands on her bare shoulders.

Rachel gasped and lifted a hand to his chest. Her fingers curled into the silky smooth fabric of his white shirt. She felt the heat of his skin beneath the material, but more importantly, she felt the beating of his heart. And it wasn't just beating. It was racing. The frantic pulsing was all the evidence she needed to uncover his need.

And then there was no point in hiding it any more. Rachel felt his hands take possession of her, his fingers owning her flesh as if he would not let go.
 

His gaze burned into her and she felt her heart race, sensed the pulsing of the blood in her body.
 

Zarif's eyes widened, an unspoken question lurking in his eyes. Rachel gasped as she saw the need in his expression. And then his lips crashed down upon hers. Cascading sensation vibrated throughout her body in an instant. His lips were firm and demanding. Hunger had taken over, as much in her as in him. Flame ignited in her core, and she shifted, feeling his body press against her.
 

He drew her against him, and for a moment it was as if they were already joined. One of his hands slid down her back, and his claiming of her became even more insistent.

Rachel heard herself gasp and that caused Zarif to growl into her, the vibration setting off another tumult of dizzying feelings.

His breathing was hard and harsh, but still, there was a care in his touch.
 

Rachel felt her nipples harden, pebbling with released desire. All the pent up feelings she had worked so hard to contain had been released in a wild, insane moment.

Zarif's tongue probed, and she felt her body soften even more, the flames growing even stronger. Her mind had become a wonderful, exquisite blank. All she could sense was him, the reality of his body, the determination he had to give her pleasure and to satisfy his own primal need.

His hand traced a line down her neck and onto her breasts, cupping one of them gently through the fabric of her dress. She felt his fingers against her nipples and gasped. Need was inflamed, even harsher than before. But still her mind had emptied; still, all she sensed was her body consumed by passion she had never felt before.

Zarif's mouth parted from hers, and his expert attentions moved onto her neck and on up to the spot behind her ear. Something shifted inside her, and she felt every nerve tremble as his tongue ignited sensation.

Rachel shifted her hand down the front of his chest. There was promise in the hard muscle she felt there. And, when she let her hand drop even further she felt the hardness of his stomach, the ridged muscles that revealed a life of activity and strength.
 

In response to her roving hand, Zarif's passion seemed to move up another level, become even more fierce. She heard him gasp at the side of her neck. He nipped at her flesh, causing a spasm of delight to race through her body. It was as if he was tasting her, consuming her.

Zarif's hand trailed down onto Rachel's belly and paused before easing out onto her hip. He cupped her flesh and she was sure she heard him utter a quiet, appreciative groan. She felt herself quiver at the prospect those movements evoked.

Once again the car juddered and they were bumped against each other. That brought a flicker of awareness back to the present, and it was enough for vague, dim awareness to gain entry back into Rachel's mind. She drew in a sharp breath, still succumbing to Zarif's urgent attentions.

A small voice murmured to her, and she tried to thrust it away. This all felt too good, she told herself. The past belonged in the past. She couldn't go on the way she had been doing these past few years. Surely it was time to end all that. To put aside all those doubts, all those fears.

Rachel opened her eyes and glanced feverishly at Zarif. Her mind had filled with sudden, betraying doubt. She reached up and ran her fingers through Zarif's dark hair, feeling the moistness beading there. She moved her hand lower and cupped the side of his face, feeling the harsh scratch of the stubble on his chin. That gesture seemed to catch his attention. He lifted his head from her neck, causing instant regret in her as sensation started to fade.

His face was flushed with desire, his eyes wide. For a moment she wondered where such passion had come from, where it had been hidden. She asked herself why it had been loosened to feast on her. Especially her.

Rachel gazed at him for a few moments, and he seemed to understand just what she was trying to tell him. Could he already sense her thoughts?

Zarif's eyes narrowed, and he lifted himself upwards. The sudden space between them made her feel conscious of her position on the leather seat. She did the same as him, straightening herself on the seat. She tugged at her dress, and he lifted his hand away, sitting back on the seat.

He pulled his jacket neatly together and cleared his throat. "You must forgive me, Rachel," he murmured. His voice shook with the emotion still coursing through his body.

Rachel sucked in a breath. The interior of the limo felt suddenly airless. Zarif noticed her difficulty and reached across, pressing the button to open the window. Fresh, night air gusted into the limo and Rachel took a deep breath. Her skin was still tingling, and the cold air did almost nothing to change how it felt. Her nerves were still vibrating, but her mind had returned, and she felt suddenly awkward, as if she had succumbed to an impulse that was both childish and unforgivable.

"There's nothing to forgive, Zarif."

Rachel looked at him and saw his eyes were wide. "That is not how I should behave," he said. "Especially toward someone like you," he added.

She squinted at him, puzzled at his choice of words. "What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Please accept my apologies. It was disrespectful of me to behave in such a fashion. It will not happen again," he said.

Rachel felt the briefest flurry of something as he said that. Was that disappointment? She could barely believe it if it was.

The limo swerved and turned into a side street. They had arrived at Rachel's apartment. She saw Zarif twist his head and gaze up at the apartment block. "So, this is where you live?"

Rachel scooped up her clutch and fixed her mussed up hair. It didn't really matter what she looked like. She lived alone. There would be no awkward inquests; no difficult explanations; no-one would need to know what her evening had been like. That was the way she preferred it. Wasn't it?

The limo eased to a halt, and Zarif opened the door, stepping out of the car. Rachel took his hand as she had done hours before. As she lifted herself out of the limo she thought how different she felt now, compared to the last time he'd made the same courteous gesture.