The Sheikh's Captive American Read online

  She was lost.

  He rocked against her, no longer teasing, every movement focused on her. He pushed into her, and she could feel the tremor in his muscles as he clung to his control. She wasn't even going to pretend she could manage this.

  She fell back, spread herself wide, and let him into her heart.

  Pleasure hit as sudden as a falling star. She fell again and again as Tarek plunged into her, sweeping her with him. He moved slowly as the sands of the desert, carrying her along. her body slicked with sweat, and her heart racing the wind.

  He pushed his hands under her hips, lifted her ass off the ground, and pulled her to him. He plunged into her—deeper than ever—and stopped. She could feel him swell inside her, fill her utterly. She was going to burst.

  He pulled out with a slow glide. She reached for him, tried to grab his ass and pull him back, but he gave another one of those growl-purrs and pushed back in with another slow glide.

  God, he filled her perfectly, as if they had been made for each other. She shivered, trembled, and he did another slow withdrawal and even slower push into her.

  The pulse of his orgasm, of his thumb against her clit, sent her over the edge. She lost it, let her hips buck, her inner muscles clamp down and milk him. He held still except for the pulse of his cock inside her.

  She went limp, and for a moment, she could only stare up at that strong face, the prominent nose, those amber eyes now half closed.

  I love you.

  The words wanted to push their way out, but she couldn't say them. They were from two different worlds, and she couldn't see a way forward. Tarek was still inside her, and she wished he could stay there forever. But maybe he'd been right all along. This wasn't a world where wishes came true and fate gave a helping hand to lovers.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tarek propped his head on one hand and watched Tess sleep. They'd spent the night at the oasis, alternately snacking on the food and each other. Tess smelled of the frankincense oil he'd massaged into her skin—a woody, sweet, citrusy scent—and of the spices they'd eaten. He'd had her in every way possible—gently, with rough play, and then so sweetly that he'd ached afterwards. He had done it—spent the night and gotten her out of his system.

  She could leave now, and he would go back to being the rational man he had been before she had dropped into his life.

  Why did such an idea no longer appeal?

  Frowning, he knew he should wake her. Dawn lightened the sky. The night had drained the heat from the desert, but already the day began to warm. He forced himself from her side, dressed, and heard the hum of an engine.

  Stepping out of the tent, he unrolled the canvas sides to give Tess her privacy and waited for the two black SUVs he could see in the distance. That was what he needed now—distance. He crossed his arms.

  She was no different than any other woman he'd ever had.

  Oh, that was such a lie.

  Very well—she was different, but now she would go on with her life, and he would get back to his duties, which seemed to be approaching faster than he liked.

  The SUVs pulled up in a cloud of dust. His cousin Nasim jumped out, and Tarek almost groaned. If Nasim thought it worth bothering him when he was with a woman, things were bad.

  "There's been an incident at the airport,” Nasim said. “A water main broke and flooded the passenger terminal. It's a mess, and we have two ministers claiming it's sabotage and four others swearing there's no budget for repairs."

  Tarek looked at the man, thoughts spinning through his head. The urge to turn around and go back to Tess's arms arose, but he was not a man who gave into urges. No, he had put that aside the same way he was putting Tess aside.

  "Was anyone hurt?"

  Nasim shook his head. He'd dressed in jeans and a loose shirt, which showed how agitated he was. Nasim was usually the sharpest dresser in Zahkim. "But the terminal is without water, and the airlines are screaming about it."

  Tarek pressed his lips tight. Well, this was as good a way as any to remember where his duties lay—Zahkim, not the woman in the tent behind him. "I will head back at once, tour the damaged area, and—"

  "Kick some ass?" Nasim grinned.

  Tarek shook his head. "In a kingly way. Will you see to Tess?" Nasim started to smile, and Tarek put a subduing hand on his arm. "And I mean in a cousinly way."

  Nasim's eyes widened. "Is that how it is for you and her?"

  Dropping his hand, Tarek started for the first SUV. "It is not any way. See she gets back to the palace, and please give her my regrets. And give her time to dress in private. If I learn it has been otherwise, I may go back to the old laws that would require me to behead you."

  With that he turned his back on Tess and what must be their last time together. His shoulders slumped, and a knot tightened in his stomach, but he ignored it. He was very good at that.

  Chapter Twelve

  Wonderful! Everything is settled then," Tess said into the webcam. Julie had more than come through, heading to India to meet with Riya and get the deal done in person. Riya looked relieved to have the financial backing she'd needed, and Julie looked like she was gritting her teeth at having to travel; long flights tended to leave Julie with the jitters, but she'd sucked it up and had gotten her ass to Mumbai. Tess wished she could offer Julie a slow boat back home, but that wasn't possible. She settled for a huge grin, signed off, and sat staring at her laptop.

  The deal was done, and Phil was due to be released this afternoon. She supposed she had no real reason to stay in Zahkim much longer. Tarek seemed to be avoiding her. She hadn't seen him in days, and every time she'd asked about him, the answer had been the same—government business was keeping him busy.

  If she stopped to think about it, that was a perfectly reasonable answer. He had a country to rule, but she hadn't even been able to have coffee with him. Being ghosted by someone whose house she lived in was a new experience for her. She sighed. Taking up a pen, she started to play with some song lyrics. Why not—she had the beginnings of a broken heart that would go perfectly with some minor chords.

  Oh, stop it—you knew it could never be anything lasting.

  She did. But logic wasn't helping right now. Maybe talking through things with someone would help. She'd go see Phil, maybe bring him back to the palace with her before they booked a flight out. She'd heard the airport was open—no idea if it was running smoothly—but Tarek at least seemed to be getting things done. Having Phil around would make a nice change from staff who bowed and seemed to be going out of their way to avoid her, too.

  She put in a call for Dabir to meet her at the palace entrance, and she was off to the hospital.

  Phil, already sitting in a wheelchair, looked more than ready to roll. He had on jeans and a T-shirt and curled the brim of a baseball cap in his hand. He also seemed to have a pile of paperwork to sign. Tess pulled out a pen and worked on her lyrics as he listened to instructions from the nurse. Everything, it seemed, had to be explained.

  The nurse seemed to hit a snag over what medications he was supposed to have and excused herself. Tess took the chance to tell him about Julie having inked the deal with Sharma Entertainment. She propped her chin on her hand. "I'm worried about trying to manage a relationship when there's this crazy time difference. Do you think I'm overextending?"

  Phil shook his head. "You have connections all over the world already. What’s one more? Are you sure you're talking about Sharma and not another kind of relationship? "

  Her face warmed. She dropped her stare to the scrap of paper scribbled with half-finished lyrics. "Maybe."

  Phil gave a low laugh. "Don't believe I've ever seen you this embarrassed. That sheikh of yours swept you off your feet, huh? That's fast work."

  She looked up. "I'm still on my feet." Liar. "But…well, I think it's over. I don't fit here, in this culture. Or with him."

  Phil shook his head and wheeled over to her side. "Tess, darlin', your whole life long, your greatest talent has
been making a place fit you. You find something to love everywhere, and your love is the most infectious thing I've ever witnessed. Take that band you told me about. I saw the video you posted. So did a lot of other folks. Pretty soon, this place is going to be on the map for music. Don’t tell me there’s nothing here for you."

  She shook her head. "Some folks don't share—"

  "You mean one particular folk? Darlin', didn't your daddy teach you that you keep at it until you get it right? Now where's that nurse gone? Time for us to get out of here, and you can show me that palace before we head home. I want to meet this sheikh of yours."

  Tess stood, stuffed her song notes into her purse, and headed for the door. "I'll see if I can bust you out."

  She strolled down the hall, looking for the nurse, Dr. Al Din, or anyone else. Glancing around the corner, she saw the black robes of Sheikha Amal, Tarek's grandmother, and Dr. Al Din.

  Pulling at the shoulder strap of her purse, she hesitated. Dr. Al Din didn't sound happy as he faced the sheikha. "Your Highness, I can do no more."

  Uh, oh—that sounded bad. Was the sheikha dying?

  Sheikha Amal raised her voice enough for Tess to hear her next words. "It's for the good of your country and your people. The prophecy must come true!"

  Tess stiffened. That did not sound like a health issue. What was going on?

  Tarek's grandmother and the doctor turned and strolled away. Tess headed back to Phil's room. A moment later the nurse came in and started a stammering apology about how Dr. Al Din could not release Phil without a final set of x-rays and the technician had left on a short holiday and would not be back for a few days.

  Phil pursed his lips. "Looks like I'm enjoying a few more days here. At least the food is good."

  Tess stiffened. "Something's going on here, Phil. I don’t know what it is, but I think I have a way to cut through this red tape." She gave his arm a pat. "Don't change back into a hospital gown too fast."

  Heading out, she found Dabir and asked to be driven back to the palace—or to wherever she could find Sheikh Tarek.

  Dabir tugged at his chauffeur's jacket. "His Highness does not keep his staff advised on all movements."

  She put her chin up. "Then maybe I'll go for a walk, and you can tell Tarek you lost me in the city." She slammed the car door and set out on foot. Dabir started after her. "Miss Angel, please. It is not safe. There are still protests. The military has been called out; they have the airport open, but the workers are still unhappy that progress moves so slowly."

  Stopping, she turned to face him and crossed her arms. "Here's your choice. You can take me to Sheikh Tarek, or you can head back and let everyone know I've gone off on my own."

  Dabir let out a long breath, said something in Arabic, and waved her back to the car.

  Twenty minutes later, he pulled up in front of a high-rise with flags in front of it. Tess knew a government building when she saw one. Dabir got her inside and up to a room on the top floor. She looked around her. She'd been put in a waiting room, that much was obvious. A few chairs, a few plants, and a lot of glass walls with an amazing view of the city. Five minutes later, Tarek stepped in.

  Her heart skipped a beat, but she bit her lower lip. He didn't look happy to see her.

  A frown pulled at his mouth and formed a line between his dark eyebrows. He smoothed a silk tie, and Tess wished she'd worn something other than a boho top, jeans, and sandals.

  Tarek stood stiffly near the door, as if he wished he’d never stepped into the room. Tess licked her lips, and her heart clenched. Heartsick. Homesick. She didn't know.

  Finally, Tarek asked, "What are you doing here?"

  She wanted to kiss him. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted to wipe away the days apart and go back to the magic of the oasis. She also wished she could smooth that line from his forehead. But he looked utterly untouchable in his custom suit—and utterly like the Sheikh of Zahkim.

  She gave her head a little shake. "It's about your grandmother—and Phil. And I think some kind of prophecy."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tarek pressed his lips tight against the curse that almost slipped out. Of course his grandmother had been plotting something. He shook his head. Moving to the windows, he stared out at the skyline.

  "It's widely known in Zahkim that a fortune teller—an old woman, really—spoke a prophecy to me. I had just graduated from Oxford and was about to come home, and this…this woman said an angel would fall out of the sky and save the country." He turned to face Tess and lifted a hand. "My grandmother is convinced that you are that angel. According to the supposed prophecy—and my grandmother—I must fall for you or all will be lost."

  Tess made a face and smoothed her hair. "Well, as prophecies go, that's not bad, and you think…what? It's all ridiculous?" Tess stared at him as if searching for a hint of something.

  "Of course it is. Any rational person would agree, but she can only see what she wishes to see. She has been working hard to make sure you stay in Zahkim, so that the prophecy will be fulfilled. I have been undoing many of her attempts since you arrived, but I must have missed this one. I will ensure your friend is permitted to leave the hospital, and everything will be ready for you to return home tomorrow. You will have your life back."

  Tess smiled, but her expression seemed to falter, and that searching look had not left her eyes. Tarek fought the urge to go to her, put his arm around her. He must keep his distance. He must.

  Tension had him wound tight. He had the military out now to ensure order. The airport was open again, but the city seemed on edge. He was still fighting with his ministers over the expense of the repairs and with the wealthy who wanted no more talk of taxes. He almost wished he could simply wrap his arms around Tess and forget everything else.

  But they were done. He had worked her out of his system.

  So why did he want to hold her still?

  In two steps, he stood next to her. He brushed a lock of red hair back from her face. "Tess…?"

  He didn't know what he was asking or who moved first but her arms came around him, and his mouth covered hers. He wanted his hands on her, managed to find skin under her colorful top. She had his shirt out and her fingers were brushing his back, and he groaned.

  He knew he was lost again. He wanted her, and that was all that mattered. He wanted—needed—to get his mouth on those pink nipples. He had her shirt off and all that skin bare. She slipped from her jeans and pushed on his chest. He fell backwards into a chair. She fumbled with his belt and zipper. He pulled her black bikini underwear from her. She straddled him in the next instant and slowly lowered herself onto his cock.

  He gave a small groan. Glancing down, he could see the roundness of her hips, the curling red hair on her mound, and the place where he disappeared into her. Where he ended and she began.

  He put his hands on her hips "Ride me until you come. Take everything you need." This would be his parting gift to her—and to himself.

  Smiling, she began to move, slowly at first, smooth undulations that set him on fire. He lifted his hands to her breasts and cupped them, ran his thumbs over her nipples.

  She threw her head back and let out a long sigh. "Touch me, Tarek. I need…"

  "I know." He skimmed his hands down and slipped a finger between them to rub her clit. She arched, and he put his mouth on one hard nipple.

  He sucked hard, pressed the tight nub to the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Her hips bucked and he bit down on the nipple in his mouth.

  Her whole body spasmed. She groaned, and her inner muscles contracted on his cock, squeezing him. He came, jolts of lightning shooting through him. With a soft moan, she fell forward onto him, shivering.

  Slowly, his breath came back to him.

  Rubbing her back with one hand, he said, "I didn't use a condom." In his desperation to have her, he had forgotten.

  She sat up and shrugged. "I'm on the pill."

  Vague disappointment settled in him. He fr
owned. Tess seemed to notice for she wiggled and slipped away from him. She began to gather her clothes.

  Tarek stood and tried to right his clothing, but Tess's scent clung to him. He wished… “You could stay.” The words, so long suppressed, finally escaped.

  Tess blinked rapidly, and he saw a glimmer of something in her eyes. “What would I be staying for, Tarek? Long, lonely hours and a good, hard fuck when you can fit it into your schedule? Just another version of a harem girl. Not interested. It wouldn’t be rational to stay, would it?”

  Her words—his own words—hit him like a physical blow to his chest. Ah, she was good at that. And she was always, always right. He nodded. "I’ll get you on your way, then. My grandmother is a wily old bird with her own way of getting things done. I am sorry if she caused you any inconvenience. I hope you can forgive her offense.”

  Half undressed still, jeans in her hands, Tess tipped her head to one side. “She believes I'm your—what? Salvation? You've got to cut a woman some slack on that."

  "I will speak to her."

  Tess pulled on her jeans and came over to him. Her eyes darkened almost to the color of moss as her gaze searched his face. "But you don't believe. Not in prophecies. Not hunches. Not us. I get it. And it's time for me to go. "

  Her forced smile made his heart twist.

  I should not be wishing that Grandmother's schemes had worked to keep her here. But I can't bear the thought of her leaving.

  Except she would. Tomorrow. And he had a country still in crisis.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tarek massaged his temples. He had spent days staring at accounting sheets and more days in meetings with his ministers. Nasim kept telling him he was working too hard, but all his ministers kept bringing in the reports. The workers were happy and had gone back to work, but now the wealthy were throwing a fit about the new taxes.

  A soft knock sounded on his door. He leaned back in his chair, and Farid poked his head in, offered an apologetic glance, and announced the Sheikha Amal.