The Sheikh's Surprise Triplets (Azhar Sheikhs Book 3) Page 5

  “You okay?” He paused, looking back at her.

  She yanked again at her foot, and it dislodged, but the force sent her reeling forward. She winced, breaking her fall with an elbow, but couldn’t avoid falling into a prickly bush that snagged her all along the side. She rolled out of it and pushed to standing, inspecting the tiny scrapes on her hands and arms.

  “Oops.”

  Basri rushed down to her, and gripped her arm in his hands. “Are you okay?”

  The heat of him overrode the niggling pain of the scratches. “I am. It was just a little fall. My foot got stuck between those rocks.”

  He tutted, turning both her arms over to inspect. The heat of him nearly pitched her forward into his arms. “Once we get our stuff down, I’ll have a good look at you. You might need to put some ointment on this.”

  They resumed their trek, reaching the clearing without another incident, and they set their bags down on the damp, earthy ground. The slight difference of altitude allowed them to gain a new perspective on the area; she felt like a queen surveying her secret kingdom. Everything before them was pure, untouched. Maybe no other human had ever traversed this exact path. They could be the first.

  Excitement pulsed through her, so much that she didn’t even notice that Basri had lifted her arm again, inspecting the scratches.

  “You got more,” he said, his soft voice bringing her back to reality. She looked down, where he tugged at her shirt. “It ripped your shirt.”

  “Oh, my God.” She noticed a fine tear in the fabric, and lifted it up to inspect her belly underneath. Dark red scratches greeted her, and Basri winced.

  “We should clean this up.” He headed for his bag, rummaging around inside. “Before we do anything else. Just to be safe.”

  She nodded, heading toward a long, flat rock jutting out of the ground. She sat on it, feeling as if she’d taken a trip to the nurse’s office, and waited for Basri to tend her.

  He came back with his white first aid kit and got onto his knees in front of her. “These scratches on your arm look mostly okay. But the ones on your stomach need to be sterilized, at least.”

  She nodded, sucking in her breath when Basri lifted her shirt. She held it up for him, watching his caramel hand as it dabbed at the long bloody streaks with a piece of cotton dipped in rubbing alcohol. She gritted her teeth against the sharp jabs of pain.

  His free hand drifted to her knee, as if stabilizing her during the procedure. Warmth shot through her, and her gaze drifted to her belly button and all the exposed, intimate flesh here for him. If only he were to take it. She breathed a little heavier—his nearness made her think crazy things. It had to be that. What else could it be? The man’s energy was powerful, made her own common sense fly right out the window.

  Basri, now’s your chance.

  She snagged his gaze as he sat back, looking up at her almost guiltily. Had he heard her thoughts? She shifted position and tore her shirt off, leaving her torso clad in only a sports bra. Maybe this would help.

  “I got tired of holding it up,” she said breathily. “Maybe you can check the rest of me out.”

  He jerked his head into a nod, and his gaze scorched across her, his hand sliding up her leg a bit. Enough to send a surge of moisture into her panties. He gripped a hip, turning her slightly to peer around behind her, his dark eyes swirling with something unknown when his gaze finally met hers again.

  “All clear.” His voice came out husky.

  She nodded, breath hitching in her throat, and then she pitched forward, pressing her lips against his. Sparks sizzled through her, like water on a live wire, and she clutched at the sides of his face, deepening the kiss like a desperate fool.

  Basri made a small noise and kissed her back, his lips parting, his tongue pressing for entrance. She whimpered and allowed it, the earthy, manly scent of him drowning her, making her mind go blank and every cell in her body ignite. She gripped at the ridge of his shoulders; she wanted to scream through the kiss, scream about how fucking soft his lips were, how sweet it felt to touch him, how unfair it was that he was her boss.

  You know better than this.

  She pulled apart watching him with wide eyes. His kiss-bitten lips were swollen, the haze clearing slowly from his face.

  “I’m sorry.” She swallowed hard, covering her mouth like it was punishment for her lips. “I seriously didn’t mean to do that.”

  Basri shook his head, gripped her knee. “Don’t be sorry…”

  “No. I can’t do that. It’s just…not right.” She stood, sidling away from him, heading for her pack. “I think we should just set up our tents and call it a night.”

  Basri watched her with a parted mouth, as if he was going to add something. But instead he pushed to standing, heading for his own pack, tension hanging thick between them like fog over a morning bay.

  Boss for the weekend or not, Basri was a gorgeous temptation that she shouldn’t indulge in. It wouldn’t end right—things like this never did. And she’d do well to remember that, too.

  Her happiness in Lebanon depended on it.

  7

  Basri stared up at the yellow lamp dangling from the center of his tent. It was time to wind down, and get some much-needed sleep for tomorrow’s long day of hiking, but he couldn’t force his mind to shut off.

  Not when it was hopelessly riveted on Juliette and imagining exactly what she was doing over there in her tent. And how much—or little—clothing she had on.

  He sighed, turning onto his side, cock pulsing against the waistband of his track pants. Nighttime was supposed to be for ideas, for the brainstorm churn, for mind-wandering excellence.

  But tonight, he had no other thought but Juliette.

  He must have known somewhere that he’d been hoping for this chance. The tension between them had been growing volcanic-like for weeks…maybe since the second they met each other. And that kiss she’d planted on him earlier told him she’d been wanting it just as much as he had.

  Go to her tent. She’ll let you in.

  The dark whisper had been there for nearly an hour. Urging him to try. To push the envelope, even though she’d backpedaled harder than he’d ever seen before.

  He switched off his lamp and rolled onto his back, eyes adjusting slowly to the darkness of night. Through the thin fabric of the tent, he saw a dim light across the way—it had to be Juliette’s lantern. He sat up, squinting in the darkness. He pushed open the flap of his tent and stared across the clearing.

  She was up.

  She’s waiting for you.

  Basri lurched to his feet and pushed out into the crisp night air, drawing a deep breath. The scent of pines and spruce calmed him, helped slow his racing heart. He walked softly toward Juliette’s tent, the dim light of her lantern attracting him like a moth.

  He stood outside her tent, wondering if he should say something. Announce his presence and intent and hope for the best.

  Inside her tent, a rustling sounded. He froze—maybe he should just go back to his tent. Sleep off the horniness, wake up refreshed in the morning.

  But the feel of her lips returned to him—haunted him, really—prompting him to creep closer.

  “Juliette.” His voice came out a whisper so quiet he wondered if he’d even spoken.

  The zipper of her tent buzzed open, and there she was, looking up at him with fuck-me eyes, wearing only a tank top and panties.

  His breath shriveled in his throat and he stumbled forward into her tent.

  She zipped the door shut behind him.

  It was a terrible idea. She knew it. But Basri’s seduction took on new forms in the night hours; as if he were a sexual vampire whose true powers were enhanced by the lazy, late hours and the time she’d spent wondering what his hand might feel like drifting down her panties.

  She tugged on his hand, bringing him to his knees, letting her legs splay open to the sides.

  “And here I thought you were sleeping,” he murmured, smoothing his hands
up the sides of her legs. His gaze skated over her body as if observing new art; his eyes darted everywhere, trying to take it all in.

  “Is this a bad idea?” She pushed herself up on her elbows, watching as he dipped his head to her belly, placing soft kisses over the fabric of her tank top. She’d worn this just for him—knowing, all the way down to her bone marrow, that he’d come around tonight.

  He shook his head as he dragged his kisses higher, between the valley of her breasts. He nuzzled each breast in turn, looking up at her wide eyes that practically begged. “Can I?” His hands hovered at the hem of her tank top and she nodded, whimpering as he pushed her shirt up all the way, exposing her belly and breasts and all.

  “Mmm.” He dragged his lips across her nipples, which were two tight points in the cool air. He skipped kisses over the valley between her breasts and then dragged his tongue across a nipple, his hands squeezing the soft flesh above her hips.

  “Jesus, Basri.” Her voice came out shaky. She’d been wanting this too long, and now finally getting it might almost kill her. All he had to do was blink her way and she’d be on the brink of orgasm. His kisses trailed up her chest, along her throat and jaw, and then finally landed square on her lips. She moaned through the juicy kiss, clenching her thighs around him.

  When they broke, his breathing ragged, he said, “You were waiting for me.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “Nobody sleeps in just their panties in the wild.” He smiled through another kiss, one of his hands drifting between her legs. He grazed a thumb over the damp fabric covering her pussy and she inhaled sharply.

  “Maybe I was.” She welcomed another kiss from him, humming low as his thumb swiped over the stiff peak of her clit. “It’s a good thing you showed up.”

  She tensed as he pinched and massaged her clit through the panties, their deep, thorough kisses sending satisfaction screaming through her veins. This guy was too much. Not only a CEO and engineer, but the best goddamn kisser the world over.

  “I’ve been waiting for this,” he murmured through a kiss, his lips drifting to her earlobe. He pressed his fingers under the fabric of her panties, eliciting a gasp from her when they made direct contact with the slick nub of her clit. He massaged her again then dipped a finger inside her slick depths. Her head fell back and she moaned, tightening around him, wanting more.

  “You’re so wet.” His voice was nearly a growl, one that made her legs splay just a little wider, arching her hips toward him. She needed it. Couldn’t he tell? After so many weeks denying this thing between them, he had to take all of her. Drain her until not even an ounce remained of this desperate longing.

  “It’s all you.” She grabbed at his shirt, tugging it up while he swirled his finger deep inside her. She moaned, flexing against his hand. “Take this off.”

  His lips found hers, coaxing a sloppy kiss while he pulled his finger out of her. He sat back on his heels and tore his shirt off, tossing it aside.

  “Oh, yeah.” She grinned, smoothing her fingers over the perfect tawny skin spread before her, loving the mess of black hair across his chest and down to his belly button, disappearing beneath the waistline of his sweat pants. His belly was muscled and solid, each movement or laugh coaxing ripples from his toned abs.

  He grinned and lowered himself between her legs, his eyelashes long and dark as he pressed kisses against her inner thigh.

  “You’re so beautiful, Juliette.” He slipped his fingers beneath her panties again, pressing two fingers inside her this time, the warmth of him making her tense with need. “You drive me crazy. Since the day I met you.”

  She whimpered. The sexy time confessions only pushed her closer to the edge. She pinched her eyes shut as he pumped his fingers in and out of her, his thumb knocking against the swollen bud of her clit.

  “God, same here.” Her head lolled to the side and her eyes drifted open, catching a look so sexy she thought she’d split in two. “I’ve been waiting for this too.”

  He moaned low, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh, tugging her panties down and off her legs. He leaned back, pushing his sweatpants down, revealing the thick ridge of his cock beneath tight black briefs. He palmed the length of his cock through the briefs.

  “Take those off,” she whispered, and then tore her own tank top off. His gaze sizzled over her, igniting goosebumps in its wake.

  He pushed his briefs down, his thick, dark cock springing free, buried in a tiny mess of black hair. She grinned, reaching for it, smoothing her fingers over the silky head.

  “Fuck, you’re sexy.” She grabbed at his hips, urging him down. “Get inside of me.”

  He nuzzled at her neck, lowering himself on top of her, the warmth of his body searing through her. She hooked her ankles behind him, wiggling her hips against his. His cock nestled into place, pressing right up against her aching clit.

  “You feel too good,” he murmured, trailing his hands up and down the sides of her body.

  “And you’re not even inside yet.” She chuckled low, arching her hips toward him.

  He snagged her lips in a kiss, flexing his hips until his cockhead slid up against her slick entrance. She tightened her thighs around him, urging him onward.

  And then he pressed himself in, deliciously slowly as she stretched to accommodate him. A groan escaped her as he pushed deeper, the heat and size of him making her vision go spotty. She pressed her forehead against the wide plane of his chest, digging her fingernails into the sides of his arms as he found the final few inches of space.

  His breath came out ragged once he’d pressed himself all the way in. He wiggled his hips, finding another fraction of space. Juliette inhaled sharply, smoothing her hands over his chest as he moved against her, starting a sweet, slow rhythm.

  Her eyes drifted shut as she relished the pleasure—it was exactly what she’d imagined, but still somehow a million times better. The gentle, caring rhythm didn’t come across as weak, but rather attentive. The base of his cock rocked against the stiff peak of her clit at every thrust, driving her toward a desperate climax. She knotted her fingers at the base of his head, rooting herself against him, his deep, dark chocolate eyes speaking to her more than anyone else had ever said in words.

  Juliette arched against him, loving the way he filled her, pushed into her until she thought she’d come apart at the seams. His breaths grew ragged, coming out in sharp puffs at her neck, and she moaned, wrapping her arms around his neck, sealing their bodies together at all available points.

  “I’m close,” she whispered, the friction of their bumping, rocking pelvises a sensation she wished would never end. Satisfaction buzzed through her, down to every nerve ending. Basri feels so right. Like she’d never felt before.

  She tensed beneath him as his pace picked up, small grunts escaping at her ear. She rocked against him, and the dam broke, the dense nut of pleasure springing free into a tidal wave of bliss. She moaned, but it caught in her throat, her eyes pinched shut as the sensation wracked her body, her pussy contracting around his cock.

  Basri groaned, rocking against her one last time, and then stilled, his abs tense as he held himself against her. His body jerked, and heat flooded her; she let out a ragged sigh, chest heaving as she relished the receding tendrils of pleasure coursing through her. She whimpered, smoothing her hands up and down his arms, hesitant for him to move and relinquish this beautiful seal between them.

  Basri didn’t move for a while, and then he shifted on top of her, looking up at her with soft, amused eyes. He cupped her cheek; she’d never seen a more tender expression from him. Her chest tightened.

  “That was lovely,” she said, voice sticking in her throat.

  “Lovely doesn’t even come close.” He grinned, propping himself up so that he could brush a kiss against the tip of her nose. He slipped out of her, and he rolled to her side, sighing as he did. “I’m sorry I…we didn’t use anything.”

  His fingertips drifted over the small swell of her b
elly. Eyes riveted to his dark hand there, the meaning of his words sank into her. He had no idea there was nothing to worry about. Emotion tightened her throat, and she looked over at him, unsure how to respond.

  His brow creased; maybe he’d caught the shift in energy.

  “Hey, I’m sorry—” he started.

  “It’s okay.” She shook her head, burrowing into his side, wrapping an arm around him until his heat soothed her again. She focused on her breathing until the worst of the emotion had passed. And in the clearing air after the storm of sexual satisfaction, regret lashed at her.

  You shouldn’t have muddied the waters with him.

  Tears pressed at her eyes, and she squeezed him tighter, willing them to dry up. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, and love quaked through her—or something close enough. His embrace felt so good, his attention was like finding water after wandering the desert for years. I want this. I want a man like him. I want Basri.

  The truth launched like fireworks, and the tears broke out. Her breath hitched, and she buried her face into his chest, tears spilling onto his skin.

  “Hey, Juliette…what’s wrong?” He sat up a little, grabbing her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She searched his face, still not sure what she could even say. How she could write this off.

  “Talk to me,” he said after another moment.

  “I can’t have children,” she whispered through the tears, another wave of sorrow wracking her body. She sniffed hard, wishing the words had never escaped her lips. But the tender look on Basri’s face made some of the pain shrivel up.

  He wiped away some of her tears with a thumb. She took a shaky breath, wiping at her face.

  “I’m sorry for that.” She laughed a little. What a way to end an awesome hook-up. “I’m surprised you’re not running for your tent, now that I’ve cried after orgasm.”