Bella and the Merciless Sheikh

‘Irresponsible, thoughtless, selfish,’ Bella added helpfully, and he growled deep in his throat and hauled her against his hard, powerful body. Without hesitation or warning he brought his mouth down on hers and she felt his strong hands slide down her bare back, holding her captive. Her damp skin burned against the pressure of his fingers and sexual excitement consumed her body like a ravenous beast.

As his mouth plundered hers with raw, unrestrained passion all she was aware of was heat. The heat of his tongue, the heat of the tent and the scorching heat that seared through her body like a flaming lance.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt before.

Like nothing she’d ever imagined—

And then he released her, thrusting her away from him as if she were infectious.

Suddenly unsupported, Bella swayed, dizzy and disorientated from his kiss and wondering why he would want to stop doing something that felt so good.

Up until that point in her life if anyone had asked her if she’d ever been kissed, she would have said yes. Only now did she realise that she would have been lying.

She’d never been kissed.

Not like that.

Everything that had happened to her before this moment had been a pale imitation of the real thing.

Where had he learned to kiss a woman like that?

‘Cover yourself!’ His voice harsh, he kept his back to her and Bella stared blankly at his wide shoulders, wondering why he was so angry. She was feeling a thousand different emotions, but anger certainly wasn’t one of them.

But she didn’t argue. She saw the white robe that he’d spread on the bed, picked it up and slipped it over her head. It fell to the ground and she pulled a face.

‘Great. Right on trend. Do you have a pair of scissors or something? I’m going to break my neck if I wander around in this.’ She was surprised that her voice sounded so normal, because inside she felt anything but normal. That kiss had left her feeling as though she’d been mixed in a cocktail shaker.

He turned swiftly, his dark eyes hooded, his mouth a firm, uncompromising line as he swept her appearance in a single glance. Without saying a word he took the dagger from the folds of his robe and stepped towards her.

Alarmed, Bella took an involuntary step back wards. ‘There’s no need to— Oh—’ She squeaked in astonishment as he bent down, sliced the blade through the fabric and removed the surplus material in two bold strokes. The robe now stopped just above the ankle and Bella stared at his dark, glossy hair, heart thumping.

‘So the blade isn’t ornamental, then,’ she croaked, and he straightened in a lithe movement, his eyes menacing.

‘No.’ He slid it back inside his robe. ‘It isn’t.’

She licked her lips. ‘Why do you carry a knife?’

Without bothering to answer her question he strode out of the tent, leaving her staring after him, wondering what she’d done wrong.

He’d kissed her, hadn’t he? Surely he couldn’t blame her for that.

Irritated by the injustice of it all, Bella sat down on the bed, touching her lips with her fingers. Her lips were so dry after her day in the desert, it must have been like kissing sand paper.

Feeling more vulnerable than she wanted to admit, she combed her fingers through her rapidly drying hair, wishing she could do something about her appearance.

There must be something she could use to see her reflection.

Typical, she thought gloomily. She met the man of her dreams and she didn’t even have a mirror or a decent pair of shoes.

No wonder he’d virtually run out of the tent. He’d probably prefer to look at his horse.

Bella’s wounded pride made her reluctant to leave the tent, but her restless nature made it impossible for her to sit still for long. And she couldn’t quite believe that he’d knocked her back.