The Sheikh's Stubborn Lover (The Adjalane Sheikhs Series Book 2) (5 page)

Michelle pulled her shirt tighter. She’d left off her pants and now she wondered if she ought to stand up and get dressed. Instead, she curled up in the cushions. She wanted to pile them over her until she couldn’t hear that howling noise. She glanced over at Adilan. “You’ve been through storms before here?” She was hoping he had.

He glanced at her and smiled. “Here? No. But other places, yes.” Getting up, he moved to light the lanterns overhead. The day seemed to have become suddenly dark, and Michelle could imagine the sand so think that it blotted out the sun.

He strode back to her. The flickering light gave the tent a romantic feel—if not for the wind poking at the tent, Michelle might have enjoyed the moment. Adilan finished making tea and handed her a steaming cup. She took it, her hands shaking.

With a frown, he took the cup from her and put his arms around her, pulling her close. She put a hand on his chest to stop him, but he whispered, “Shush. You feel the pull too. I know you do. This is no shame.”

She leaned her head against his chest. “I do. But…I’m not in the habit of jumping into bed with every hot guy who crosses my path.”

He gave a small laugh—she could feel it in his chest. “I am glad you think I am hot—and also that you do not have such a habit. Shall I teach you some Arabic?”

Pulling back, she stared up at him. “Can I trust you to give me the right translations?”

He pulled a mock frown. “I did not peek at the spring.”

“No…you looked.”

With a grin, he tightened his arms around her. Her shirt rode up, exposing her legs, so she pulled a pillow over her thighs. “
Esmee
means my name is. So you would say
esmee
Michelle. If you wish to know if someone speaks English, say,
hal tatakallamo alloghah al enjleziah
?”

She gave a groan. “I’m rotten with languages. My mother knows five of them—including Arabic. She used to try to teach me just one of them. It was agony—her going over the words again and again, trying to get my accent just right. Every session would end with me in tears and her throwing up her hands and wondering how should could end up with a boring, dull daughter like me.”

He pushed his hand into her hair. “Michelle, you are not boring or dull. How could you think such a thing? Even my father saw that you are your mother’s daughter—and by what I know, she was…she is a force of nature.”

The wind pushed at the tent, shaking it, and she clutched his arms. “Are you sure we’re safe?”

He gave a laugh and pulled her closer. “Safer than anywhere else. And more comfortable than in any car—sand always finds a way inside any vehicle. “Now should I teach you to ask where is the toilet?”

She straightened. “Is there one here?”

Waving toward the back of the tent, he said, “There is a fine bucket you can use. Now say, ‘
ma esmoho bel arabiah.’
”

“What does that mean? Am I asking you something rude—or intimate?”

He touched a finger to her cheek “You are asking what is that called in Arabic.” He cupped her cheek with his hand. “And now I will ask you—do you wish to forget about the wind and the sand?”

She stared up at him, unable to speak. She could only nod. She felt safe in his arms—shielded. This was crazy—mad. This was something her mother would do. This wasn’t wise to fall for this guy, but she was lost in those green eyes, in those strong arms. She wanted him—she was honest enough to admit that. And she wanted what he was offering—a short time to forget her problems, forget why she was here, forget that damn wind that sounded like it could steal your soul. She’d rather give into him for a short time—she wanted the promises in his eyes. The touch of his hands warmed her face, left her tingling. For once, she wanted not to be the sensible, staid Michelle Reynolds. She wanted instead to be Deborah Reynolds daughter.

Tilting her face up, she put her hand on his chest, her fingers spread wide. “Teach me to say other things, Adilan. For once I want to be more like my mother’s daughter. I want adventure and excitement and all the things I’ve always avoided.”

He cupped her face and kissed her lips. His mouth was soft, questioning, careful. The sweep of his tongue into her mouth set off a fire inside her. He still tasted of honey and sweetness. She parted her lips and wrapped her arm around his neck.

Leaning back, he pulled them both down on the pillows, his fingers slipping along her legs in a caress that left tingles behind.

She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, got her fingers onto his skin. The hair on his chest was surprisingly soft and springy. He bent his head and through the fabric of the shirt, put his mouth on one nipple. She arched her back and moaned.

Sitting back, he smiled and put his hands on her bare thighs, stroking her skin. He leaned back so he could kiss her ankles, then the inside of her calf, his mouth hot. He kissed her knees and stroked the soft skin behind them. She’d never known that was a sensitive spot—a spot that sent sparks shooting through her.

He put his head on her thighs and breathed in. “Your arousal is intoxicating. You smell of rain and pleasure, my little American.”

Coming back up to lay next to her, he unbuttoned her shirt so that she lay bare before him. With a smile he sat up and dipped his fingers into the honey still on the brass table. He stroked the honey over her breasts, her skin, and then he began to lick it from her.

She gave a moan and put her hands on his, but he gave a laugh and told her, “Stop fighting me.”

“But I want to touch you—what about you?”

Adilan grinned. “I am having my pleasure, and you are a firecracker.”

“One that’s going to spontaneously combust if you don’t move this along.”

Leaning over her, he took her mouth in another searing kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and threw one leg over his hips. He pulled back and stroked a hand over her sticky skin. “What do you want?”

She blinked, tried to focus. She felt drugged by his touch, lazy and yet also vibrantly alive. “Your mouth,” she muttered.

“Where?” he asked. Leaning down, he kissed between her breasts.

She gave a moan and told him, “Anywhere.”

Adilan was enjoying the sight of her against the colorful cushions, her skin gleaming with a touch of sweat. She was so pale. He put his hand on her stomach—his skin seemed impossibly dark compared with her pallor. “Shall I kiss you here?” he asked and kissed her stomach.

“Lower,” she said her voice thick and low.

He kissed her hip, bit softly, and asked, “Here?”

She arched, lifting one knee to press against his hardness. He nipped her bottom lip. “Behave.” Sitting up, he slipped off his shirt and trousers. He had to feel his skin against hers. He pushed her legs apart, making a place for himself between her thighs. He used one hand to fit himself to her wet heat.

“Adilan,” she said, the word a soft groan. The sound nearly undid him. He loved hearing his name spill from her lips.

He lowered himself onto her. She arched her neck, and he couldn’t resist biting her collarbone lightly. When she moaned in pleasure, his control broke. He needed to be closer. He nudged his way inside the tiniest bit. “Lift your knees up and wrap your legs around my hips. Once I am inside you, it will be a race to the finish and I don’t want you left behind.”

She gave another moan and her eyes slid closed.

Adilan kept kissing her even as he slid all the way into her. He held himself still for a moment, savoring the moment. She was a touch of heaven. Her breathing had quickened and he wet hair spilled around her face. He had never wanted a woman like this.

When she shifted her hips and arched, he gave up trying to go slow.

“Michelle, open your eyes and look at me,” he urged her. She did. He was pleased to her eyes had darkened, the blue swallowed up by black. Her face was flushed with the beginnings of pleasure. She gave a moan. His body tightened.

He held her gaze as he pulled out and pushed deeper. “Keep watching me,” he told her. He knew he was on the verge of finding his own pleasure, but he wanted to see her come apart. He wanted to see hear her say his name again. Her skin heated and slicked against his. Reaching between them, he touched that spot at the apex of her core. She arched against him, hips bucking, calling out his name.

The force of her contractions sent him over the edge. Pleasure swept through him in a sharp jolt. He’d wasn’t prepared for it and felt as if the sandstorm outside had swept him up in its grip, spinning him until he didn’t know up from down. This had never happened before. Always he had been in control. Always he had taken and given pleasure with some part of himself held back. This time there had been no holding back. It was impossible to deny her any part of himself.

He looked down at her, her lips swollen, her breasts pressed flat against his chest, her face flushed. He kissed her temples—right then left, and slowly kissed her lips, finding them soft as rose petals. He wanted to gather her close, to shield her. He wanted things from her he had never thought to want. An image flashed in his mind of her with a babe in her arms. Ah…that would be heaven. And impossible. She was the daughter of his father’s enemy. She was the woman who stood between him and all he wanted. And still he cradled her.

“Rest now,” he said rolling to the side and pulling her with him. He kissed her ear and whispered, “
Habibiti
.” But he wondered if he really meant the word this time.

The wind had stopped when Michelle woke. She was surprised she had slept at all. The cushions were also bare. Pulling on her shirt, she headed outside. She found Adilan in the nearest spring. Letting her shirt drop away, she waded in. This spring was deeper than the other one she had been in. The water covered her, warm and scented with minerals. She swam over to Adilan.

“I never want to leave,” he said and wrapped his arms around her.

She gave a soft hum. “We’ll have to sometime. You can only hold the real world at bay for so long.”

“For you, I would hold it back forever. I would have camels bring us food and clothing and we would live here.”

She laughed and pulled away from him. “You’d be bored in a week, and so would I.”

Grinning, she swam closer, his green eyes darkening. “Never. With you, how could any man be bored?”

Michelle’s face heated. She’d never had such flattery. She tried to imagine Alan saying such things and failed utterly. Turning, she swam to the edge of the spring and climbed out. Grabbing her shirt, she turned back to Adilan. “Thank you. Thank you for this day, for showing me the springs, for…well for a memory I will never forget.”

He climbed from the water, skin glistening. Michelle’s mouth dried. He seemed to be all muscles and long limbs. The water beaded on his dark skin, caught on the curling hair on his chest. He slicked back the black hair on his head and came to her. “Must it end?”

She shook her head and pulled on her shirt. “There never was a beginning, Adilan. Just a moment we could grab.” She touched his face, ran her thumb over the edge of his jaw line. “My life is a long way from here, and your life—well, I don’t think you were looking for a long-term relationship, now were you?”

He put his hands on her hips, sneaking his touch up under the shirt that barely covered her ass. “What if I told you I was not looking, but what I have found with you—I have never felt like this.”

She smiled and shook her head again. Putting a hand flat on his chest, she held him back with the slightest of touches. “Adilan, let’s not ruin this with promises that neither of us can keep. Isn’t that how your dad and my mom got into hot water? Let’s not…well, let’s try and be better than that.”

Slipping away from him, she headed back to the tent to dress. But already her heart was aching. How could she be so stupid as to fall for a guy she barely knew. It had to be the romance of the desert and the oasis. This was a…a fantasy. A mirage. She would dress, she’d go back to her hotel, and then she’d have to figure out what to do. If worse came to worse, she’d have to call her mother for advice. She let out a sigh. Was she ever going to have her own life? Or was it always going to be her running around and doing her mother’s bidding?

***

Adilan cursed as he struggled to clear the sand from the engine. He had stalked back to the tent and dressed quickly, his mood turning sour. Why could he not smile and kiss Michelle and thank her for a lovely afternoon. He had done what he wanted—he had shown her the Zia oasis, he had seduced her and softened her mood. Of course she would make the trade for land, and then she would fly back to America.

That thought left him frowning at the Hummer’s engine. Why should he care if she was here and then gone? Wasn’t that how he liked all his affairs—brief and simple.

But Michelle—he already wanted her again. He wanted to find out her favorite foods, he wanted to take her dancing under the stars, he wanted to stay up all night making love with her and watch the sunrise over the ocean.

Instead, he was taking her back to her hotel room—and…and what? Giving up on her? No, that could not be right.

Michelle Reynolds had just come into his life, and he did not want to let her leave so easily. But how could he keep her? Could he drag out this land swap? Or perhaps he would take her to yet another property tomorrow—and another after that? How long could he delay her departure.

Getting into the Hummer, he got the engine stared. Michelle came out of the tent, dressed and smiling. It was all he could do not to carry her back inside.

The storm had blown over and the moon was starting to rise. The desert at night was one of his most favorite places to be, but would she feel that way. There was so much he had to learn of her. Was this what had happened to his father? Had his father fallen in love so fast with a beautiful American woman?

Smiling, Michelle took her seat. She had brought the last of the dates with her and she ate them—and fed a few to Adilan as he drove. At the hotel, she climbed from the Hummer and leaned into the open door. “Call me tomorrow. We can…talk business.”

“I would rather have breakfast with you after staying the night.”

She gave a laugh and shook her head. Closing the door, she headed into the hotel. He watched the sway of her hips and thought of how her legs had felt wrapped around him. Shaking his head, he forced his stare elsewhere, to the city his father and grandfather had helped to build. Al-Sarid’s capital was booming, but it could easily fade. So much depended on tourists, on providing comforts and fine restaurants. He frowned at the lights coming on in the city, at the bustle of people. He knew his father did not think him steady—he had shifted too easily from one passion to the next, even from one girl to another. And Malid…Malid thought himself the smart one of the family, the man who could best guide the company head.

But Malid thought only of profit, of making his mark—he was too driven, Adilan thought.
Just as I am not
.

Glancing back at the hotel where Michelle had disappeared, he rubbed a hand over his face. What did she think of him? Would she go for the trade? If not, he must think of something else. He must also be wary, for Malid would soon find out the taxes had been paid—and Malid would not give up the contest between them so easily.

He sat in the Hummer for some time, thinking of Michelle, and of the competition between himself and his oldest brother, Malid. Pulling out his cell phone, he speed dialed Thomas Jenkins’ private line.

Jenkins ran a private security firm, and his team was expert at ferreting out information. The Adjalane family had used the firm for a number of tasks, and the ties went deep. Even though it was evening, Thomas Jenkins answered at once. “Sheikh Adilan, how’s the weather?”

Adilan skipped past the pleasantry. “Have you heard from Malid lately with any tasks?”

“Should I have?” Jenkins sounded wary now.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, Adilan said, “I think he will contact you tomorrow. I’m dealing with a situation that has Malid and I competing for the same thing.”

“Let me guess—you did an end run around your brother and he’ll now try a plan B, which may involve me? I’m not sure I want to be put in the middle between you two.”

Adilan smiled. “Don’t worry. I just want to know if he contacts you—that’s all. And to perhaps keep you out of the middle. Malid…well, you know how much he hates to lose.”

“Uh, more than you do and not as much as Nassir? Does this have anything to do with Michelle Reynolds being in Al-Sarid? I understand she looks a lot like her mother—are you thinking she’s cut from the same cloth?”

Staring at the hotel, Adilan wished he was still with her. He shook his head. Jenkins’ question was a good one. Was Michelle really as much a seductress as her mother? Had she given into passion at the Zia oasis only to distract him so she could get what she wanted? It was a valid question, one he had not considered, and now he forced himself to think with his brain and not his body. “Why do you ask?”

“Just like to know. Your families have a lot of history. Watch your step with her.”

Adilan frowned. Again, it was good advice and not anything he wanted to consider. He wanted to think of Michelle as a sweet and straightforward person—but too much was at stake. Besides, she would not stay in Al-Sarid, and he was not leaving. This was a means to an end—a way to get the land back to prove to his father that he was fit to run the company. He must remember that. He cleared his throat and said, “Just let me know if you hear from Malid. Now, have you thought of taking a vacation?”

“You mean stay out of this by staying way out? I’d need to take the entire team with me.”

“And that is a problem how? I would be happy to pay for your time. I also understand the island of Trinidad is most relaxing, and has remote jungles where your team could get in some training.”

“Uh huh,” Jenkins sounded cautious now. “Please tell me this latest Reynolds isn’t getting to you? If she is and your father hears of it—”

“I know,” Adilan said. He had to push out the words. He did not want to speak of his feelings for Michelle—whatever they were. This was not a matter of the heart, but a matter of winning over Malid. That was all. Irritated now, he said, “I’ll talk to you next week.”

He disconnected and sat staring at Michelle’s hotel. Why should he not go in and invite her to dinner again. But he knew why not. She had gotten to him. He could not stop thinking of her pale skin, of her sweet curves, of how her face relaxed in his arms. They had sparked something between them. But he could just picture his father’s face if he thought to have any kind of relationship with Deborah Reynolds’ daughter. His father was likely to have a heart attack on the spot.

He answered a few emails on his phone, but he needed to do something to get his mind off Michelle Reynolds. He kept seeing her blue eyes, reliving the moment when they had drifted closed and she had shivered in his arms.

With a muttered curse, he called his brother, Nassir. “I need to hit something. Want to volunteer?” Adilan asked.

Nassir was the brother who had somehow managed to slip away from their father’s shadow. He had started his own company, which kept him busy, but he was also the brother who usually settled any family arguments. His voice came over the line, and Adilan could hear the smile in his brother’s voice. “If you want to meet me at the gym I might humor you for a round or two.”

“I’ll see you in half an hour.” Adilan started up the Hummer.

The gym was not at the palace, but a building Nassir had bought and converted. Adilan would go workout and try a few rounds with Nassir and then he would be able to at least sleep tonight. Or that was what he hoped. He had a feeling he would end up dreaming about Michelle and their time at the Zia oasis.