When his eyes lingered on my breasts, I could feel my body reacting, my breasts becoming heavy with need at the attention it received. My nipples extended and as his gaze continued to caress that part of my body, and they started to ache as they pebbled hard against my school blouse.
The longer he stared, the hotter I felt, the wetter I became.
Oh God, I was so wet, I felt like anytime it could start leaking down my legs.
The thought had my head reeling, and when I heard the sheikh speak again, my imagination had run into overdrive, making his words sound godlike – something to be obeyed without delay.
I moved like a puppet at the command, slowly closing the distance between us. I had never been a weak girl. Even when it had felt like it was just Ruth and me against the world, I had never lost hope, never lost the courage to fight.
But with this sheikh?
He was my weakness, my sickness, my obsession…and the sheikh knew it.
My knees were threatening to give out by the time I reached him. This close, I could see the undisguised lust glittering fiercely in his eyes, and I whimpered at the sight, the knowledge that the sheikh wanted me as much as I wanted him causing a tingling sensation to run down my spine.
At his whispered command, I took one last step towards him, which left me standing between his long, muscular legs. This close, I had to press my thighs together, a desperate but futile attempt to kill the gushing flow of wetness between my legs.
Kiss me. Don’t kiss me. The thoughts that ran inside my head were contradictory and confusing, making me fidgety and anxious. As the silence stretched between us, becoming unbearable, I finally looked up—-
The first thing I saw was the sheikh’s smirk. You can’t wait for it?
I wanted to smack the smirk off his face, had even raised my hand to do so, but the sheikh moved too swiftly for me. The next thing I knew, he was already pulling me towards him, his hand around my nape.
A second later and his mouth covered mine.
I gasped again, but the sound was lost in his mouth. The kiss was deep and hard, and my toes curled as the heat from our fused mouths spread throughout my body.
The sheikh lifted his head, rasping out, “Open your blouse.”
The words gave me a little back of my sanity. Oh God, what was I doing…again? And after he had broken his promise, did he really expect me to roll over and do whatever he asked?
“No!” I tried to pull away, but his fingers snapped around my hips like chains, keeping me in place.
His eyes narrowed. “Open it.”
“Go to hell,” I snapped. “After what you—-”
The sheikh growled, “I didn’t think you’d care that much.”
“I’m not…used to this.” He glared at me, as if he held me responsible for making him admit such a thing. “I grew up, with my father breaking his promise to me over and over again, and his advisers here in the palace telling me that it is to be expected and that I should not be selfish. They have drummed it into my head that as the heir, I must understand the king will sometimes have to put the kingdom before me, the way I shall do so as well when I am king.”
Silence followed his rare and unexpected admission. I could only look at him, my heart aching a little as I read between the lines. No wonder he found it so easy to be cold and isolated, I thought. It was how he had been raised, and everyone had made it seem like it wasn’t wrong.
Releasing me from his hold, the sheikh raked a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of trouble. “Why do you not say anything?” His voice was almost accusing.
My heart still torn between aching for the sheikh’s isolated childhood and wanting to indulge in a self-righteous sulk, I chose my words carefully. “I see where you’re coming from, but…”
I looked at him helplessly. “I’m not sure I can manage not to be selfish. I can’t even honestly say I believe it’s bad to be selfish in this case.”
When the sheikh remained silent, I added in a rush, “I get it, you know. I get it that when duty calls, but…three days, Your Highness. You were there three days, and you couldn’t even manage one short text? Even just to let me know you’re safe and I’m not watching some dead ringer for you strutting about, acting like you, while you’re God knew where, bound and kidnapped—-”
The sheikh blinked. “You’ve watched too much TV, milady.”
I glared at him. “The point is,” I hissed, “you should have called!” Like a normal boyfriend. “You should have known I’d be worried.” Like a normal girlfriend. “Because I…” Because I care, more than I should.