“Is this Australia?” she asked suddenly as she stroked the frame of one of his photographs. “I’ve always wanted to go scuba diving in Australia. And this is Paris, isn’t it? Amazing.”
“You want to travel?”
“Yeah. I do.” She dropped her hand and turned to him. “If I asked you a question, would you answer it honestly?”
“Even if I think it’s not the answer that you want to hear?” he asked, his head cocked as he walked toward her.
“Especially then.” Her voice was no more than a whisper, but she didn’t back away when he approached her. He nodded his head, and her chest heaved as she took a deep breath. “Why did you choose me?”
He knew what she was expecting to hear. He’d chosen her to compete with his brother. He’d chosen her because he’d thought she’d fall right in line with Liyah.
The truth was none of those things, but he couldn’t offer her that answer, either. “You’re beautiful. You’re passionate. You’re intriguing. You’re different from the other women that I choose to spend my time with. Why would I not choose you?”
She bit her lower lip and stared at him. They were only inches apart, and he desperately wanted to take her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless.
At last, she answered him. “Because of Liyah. Because I’m a little stubborn and a little wild. I’m not even sure that I’d make a good wife, let alone a good sheikha.”
Giving in to his desire, he reached out and stroked her cheek with the side of a gentle finger. Her skin was so silky and smooth, and he couldn’t help but brush his finger lower until he skimmed the column of her neck. Her pulse beat rapidly beneath his touch. “That works out perfectly because I am not a very good sheikh. I’m not like Asad. I like a little rebellion in my life.”
She sighed breathily, and he pushed her roughly against the wall and kissed her.
Opening her mouth to accept him, she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him as he bore down on her.
He swept his tongue through the parting of her lips as he settled between her open legs. He was rock-hard and aching for more of her.
“Mila,” he whispered and kissed her again. She was everything that he’d imagined she would be. Wet, hot, and eager for him. Just the taste of her brought him to the brink of madness. Before he knew it, his hands were under her shirt, and he stroked her delicate skin.
For one single and dizzying second, he thought about tossing the ideas of romance right out the window and fucking her right against the wall. He had never wanted to be inside someone so badly in his entire life. He wanted to hear her scream his name as he made her come again and again.
“Rashid,” she gasped and put one weak hand between them.
Feeling her resistance, he immediately released her and stepped back.
“Forgive me,” he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “Things got away from me. I believe you were here to talk about your problems, not to be ravished by me.”
Her lips were swollen from the force of his kiss, and her clothes were in disarray. She looked down and blushed as her fingers fumbled, trying to straighten them. “You don’t have to apologize. I should probably go.”
“You could stay. Liyah and Asad should be back fairly early.”
She raised her eyebrows, and he backtracked, uncharacteristically stumbling a little over his words. “I don’t mean in my bed. I have a guest room. I already have dinner on the way.”
She chuckled. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to feed me and let me stay here—but not ask for any sex in return?”
He ran a hand over the back of his head and rubbed his neck. “Believe me, it sounds even stranger to me,” he admitted. “What do you say?”
When she nodded her head shyly, he was filled with triumph.
One step closer to getting what he desperately wanted.
After a wonderful dinner, Mila lounged in one of Rashid’s t-shirts and drawstring sweatpants. Both were far too big, and she had to pull the drawstring tight to fit her slim waist and roll the pants several times so that she wouldn’t trip over them as she walked. She felt ridiculous as she walked out of the room, but she saw nothing but desire in his eyes as his gaze roamed her body.
The shirt smelled like him and kicked her own libido into overdrive. It had taken so much effort to push him away earlier, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she was tempting fate by spending the night.
“I have to admit, I do like the way you look in my clothes,” Rash
id murmured.
A thrill of excitement raced through her, but she made an effort not to show it. “I’m surprised that you own something made of cotton. I was starting to think that you didn’t own anything except the most expensive fabrics,” she teased with a wink, ignoring the tension that stretched between them like a string. Or maybe an elastic band. Pulling. Tightening.