The Sheik's Son

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

She stared at him stretched out on the sofa.

“I opened my eyes for a moment when you first came in. I saw you in the white shift against the firelight and thought you were a ghost,” he murmured.

She smiled lightly. “As you see, I’m not.”

“Let me be sure.”

He pulled her into him and kissed her lightly on the lips. She felt her heartbeat quicken and with her free hand she pressed against his chest.

“Bash.”

He moved his other hand into her luscious auburn hair and his fingers tangled into it. His lips touched hers, followed by the gentle probing of his tongue. Once his mouth was on hers he moved his free hand to touch her neck and then moved along her collarbone.

She closed her eyes as he deepened the kiss, but when he touched her she pulled away slightly.

“Sophie. I won’t hurt you. Let me hold you.”

She couldn’t say no. She owed him so much, and she was weak. She wanted him too. She moved onto the sofa with him and he swept her hair back as he replaced his hand with his mouth. He nuzzled her neck and she shivered.

“Ana behibek,” he said quietly.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Nothing. A phrase in Arabic.”

She nodded, turning away from him as he pulled her back into him.

“Sophie,” he whispered in her ear. “My wife.”

Sophie turned her head to him. “Not really. In name only.”

Sebastian was silent. “I can make you truly my wife.”

Sophie’s heart thudded. “You did me a great favor. I will release you when it’s all over.”

“What if I don’t want to be released?” he whispered.

“Are you drunk, Bash?”

“A little,” he admitted.

She smiled.

“Drunk enough to see ghosts in my library.”

“I’m not a ghost.”

“Drunk enough to know that when the time comes I will be the next sheik. I will live in Arabia with my people and rule.”

“With your wife.” She nodded.

“With my wife,” he agreed.

“And children, most likely.”

“Yes, children too. We would make beautiful children, Sophie.”