The Sheikh's Determined Lover (Zahkim Sheikhs 2)

Turning her attention to the research, she tried to settle to her task.

Arif actually helped. He found a dusty book hidden on a higher shelf and brought it out. The history was in an archaic Arabic script, but Arif had no difficulties translating, and she soon had several references to older works worth investigating. Arif went off to ask Sahl ibn Harun about them.

Christine's tablet binged with an incoming email, and she opened it as a distraction.

Tess had emailed a quick note to say she was working on new songs and she'd forwarded an article about Christine's father. “Nice to see your dad mentioned—is he getting the credit he deserves?” she wrote.

Excited now, Christine opened the attachment. The article started off positive, noting how some geologists believed the Sphinx to be far older than first thought due to rain weathering on the lion part of the carved stone. Then it brought up her dad's theories about how the Sphinx must have had a lion's head at one time. It went downhill from there.

“Professor Kris Harper's claims line up with aliens building the pyramids and Atlantis survivors scattering to build every early civilization—not a shred of evidence exits.”

With a growl, Christine slapped down her tablet. She stood and strode from the archives, determined to get herself and the anger blazing through her out of the room before she did any damage. Once outside, she slammed her fists against the wall.

A hand settled on her shoulder, and she swung around, ready to belt whoever it was.

Arif held up his palms. "I come in peace."

"Aliens! Atlantis! They think my father's a crackpot. Geology's not evidence. Oh, no. There has to be writing or artifacts that can be carbon dated. And it's a theory, dammit! He didn't state the Lion People as fact. He proposed an idea. It's just like Schliemann and Troy. He was laughed at, too, for his idea that Troy existed outside of Homer's stories! And while Schliemann wasn't the best at preserving archaeological evidence, he did point the way to looking at old texts as being more than just stories!" Putting his hands on her shoulders, Arif rubbed the knotted muscles. Christine's a

nger started to leak out. "It's just not fair."

"What is in life? Come, take a walk with me. You are in no fit shape to bring calm intelligence to any work this afternoon." He took her hand.

She let him lead her from the archives and through the palace. The blaze of anger faded, leaving her exhausted and almost ready to cry. Was this a fight she couldn't win? She just hoped her dad didn't see that article, but he’d already seen too many others just like it.

Arif opened a door and ushered her into a room she had never been in before. She stopped to stare.

A long, oval, indoor pool stretched out in front of her, sparkling and blue. Carved white marble pillars held up the ceiling around the edges of the huge room. Blue and white tiles decorated the floor. Jasmine scented the air, and water splashed into the pool from a fountain built into the far wall.

"This used to be part of the old harem, but Tarek's father had it converted into a swimming pool." Arif gestured to a wall of doors on their right. "Changing rooms. You'll find everything you need." She turned to him to protest, but he took her shoulders and walked her over to the changing rooms. "Swim first. Lunch, then we'll go looking for your father's equivalent of the gold of lost Troy."

Inside the dressing room, she found more than one swimsuit—a dozen options hung in a full closet, along with white terry-cloth robes in a variety of sizes. Floor-length mirrors let her figure out if she wanted a one-piece or two. On a small wooden table, water with cucumber slices sat in a glass pitcher, and next to it a chase lounge in a golden silk damask left the room looking like a high-end spa. This was here every day? Why hadn't anyone told her?

She picked out a modest one-piece in black, changed, and came out wrapped in the thick plush of a robe. She wanted to take it home with her. Arif lounged in the pool already, arms stretched out, and a sleek swimsuit clinging to his hips. Christine wet her lips, slipped off the robe, and took the plunge.

Cool water washed over her. She came up, shook her head and let out a breath. "Okay, this was a good idea."

He swam over to her. "Relax. Float on the water and let it carry away the anger. It does no good to you or anyone."

She let him lift her so she lay on the pool's surface, her toes and head sticking out, everything else being lulled by the soft lapping of the water against her skin. Arif's hands stroked down her back. He leaned close and whispered, "Relax."

Closing her eyes, she let herself drift.

The next instant, Arif's mouth brushed over hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He cradled her in his arms, the kiss so sweet her heart ached with it. Swinging her legs down, she wrapped them around his hips, her skin heating. He pulled her closer. She tugged on his swimsuit, anger changing into emotions that tumbled through her in a confusing mess. She wanted not to think. She wanted sensations only he could give her. She wanted to tear off that strip of fabric that was keeping him from her and lose herself.

He pulled on the straps of her swimsuit, and she tugged on his. It was a struggle to get bare skin and not break that kiss, but she was damn well going to do it. And then she had his cock pushing against her, and she wrapped her legs around him again. He turned her so her back pressed against the pool's tiles. She grabbed his erection and stroked him twice and then broke away from those bruising lips of his.

"I don't want easy. Make me stop thinking, Arif."

He gave a growl for an answer and pushed into her. She was wet, but the pool water lapped away her natural moisture. He pushed again. She shifted. She wanted him inside. She didn't care how that happened, but it had to happen soon. Gripping her hips, he pushed again, his cock huge and hot. She gave a small cry, and he plunged into her, pinning her to the wall of the pool, his teeth fastened to her neck. She dug her nails into his back, urged him to do that again.

Pulling most of the way out, he stared at her a moment and then thrust into her. Hips bucking, she growled and lowered her hands to his ass for a better grip. He thrust into her harder and harder. All she could feel was him pounding into her, sweeping her away again. She wiggled. He grabbed her hips and held her so he could thrust even deeper. She gave another cry and threw back her head. Light exploded behind her eyes. She felt his seed pumping into her in hot gushes. In the back of her head, she knew they'd forgotten any kind of protection.

She didn't care. She'd deal with that later.

For now, it was enough just to come apart in his arms. She'd put everything back together later. In the cool water, she clung to him. She let the tears fall then—she could always claim it was the chlorine stinging her eyes. And a small crack ran through her, for she knew her life and her future weren't here in Zahkim. When her sabbatical ended, she was due back home to her job, her dad, and the real world.

For right now, however, clinging to Arif's solid form was just what she needed.