Heart of a Desert Warrior

“It will not offend your grandparents?” Iris was not naive enough to believe they would not figure it out, even if she left Asad’s bed in the wee hours as she meant to.

This kind of thing always seemed to get out eventually. Physical intimacy had a way of showing itself, even when those involved did their best to hide it. And Asad was too proud and arrogant to even try.

Iris was no good at hiding her emotions, even if she wanted to. She would show the change in her relationship with the sheikh, even if she did her best not to.

He pulled her around to face him, his expression dark and serious. “I am sheikh now. There is no offense in me doing as I see fit in my own home.”

She took leave to doubt that culturally it was easy as that, but then this man lived by his own rules, no matter how traditionally Bedouin he could be at times.

“Your arrogance is showing again.”

“I am certain of my place.”

She nodded, for the moment equally certain of hers. “Show me.”

His nostrils flared and his eyes burned her. “It will be my pleasure.”

“If I remember right, the pleasure was always very mutual.”

“Yes.”

He led her into his room and she was surprised to discover that the chamber was the same size as hers, but the bed was much bigger. Covered in pillows and a silk quilt embroidered with a roaring male lion in the center, it was easily twice the width of her bed. Between it and the sparse furniture, there was no extra room as in her chamber.

The sound of rustling clothes had her looking back toward him only to discover he was already disrobing, his kuffiya discarded, revealing dark hair that framed his fierce features even better than the head covering had done. He’d also tossed off the ornate robe he’d worn to the feast. Under it he had on the traditional loose trousers and…an Armani shirt?

She grinned.

“What?” he asked, arrested in his movements while looking at her.

“You’re wearing Armani with your traditional garb.”

He shrugged. “I prefer their shirts.” He dropped his trousers. “And their shorts.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of his muscular legs. Darker than they used to be, and rippling with even more muscle she wanted to touch.

There was a time when she had believed that body belonged to her. She knew now that it did not, but she could still revel in the knowledge that as long as she shared his bed, for all intents and purposes, it might as well be hers.

“Nice,” she said, unable to hide the catch in her voice.

His hardness pressed against the black silk of his Armani boxers, letting her know that his desire for her was real. He unbuttoned the shirt, letting it fall open to reveal the sprinkling of black curls that lightly covered his chest and abdomen.

“You used to shave that,” she observed.

He frowned momentarily. “I was trying to be more urbane.”

“But why would you want to? You were always so proud of your heritage.” It was one of many things about him that had impressed her.

Asad had known who and what he was in a way she had still been trying to achieve for herself. But maybe, he hadn’t had it as together as she’d believed. That knowledge cast the past in a different light once again, one that eased old hurts even further.

She’d made the right decision to let him make love to her. This coming together would be healing…it already was.

“Another time, we will discuss these things.” He moved toward her. “But now is not the time for talking.”

She wouldn’t argue. It had been six years since she felt the level of excitement coursing through her body now and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

He rectified that with a swift movement, bringing their bodies flush and their mouths together in perfect union. Passion and need exploded inside her with nuclear power.

Everything she’d been suppressing for six years, but especially over the past two days broke through her mental restraints, making her body strain against his even as her lips gave him kiss for kiss, caress for caress.

He broke his mouth from hers, gasping. “It’s been so long. Too long.”

She had to agree. “Yes.”

“For you, as well?” he asked, his brown eyes almost black with the depth of his feeling.

And she could not deny him the truth. “For me, too.”

It had definitely been too long since she touched him, as the depth of her excitement showed. They’d had one explosive kiss and she felt like it would take only the slightest touch to her intimate flesh for her to climax.

He’d always known just how to touch her to bring her the ultimate in pleasure, but this was something different. This bliss was coming from deep inside her at the knowledge that, for a little while, they were going to be one again.

But she would not love him. Not this time. Their bodies would join, but not their hearts. She was too smart for that. Please, God, let her be too smart for that.

He shrugged his shirt off. “Come with me to my bed. Let us make new memories to supplant the old.”

He knew exactly what to say, but that should not surprise her. Other than when he dumped her, Asad had always known exactly what she needed to hear from him

.

“New memories,” she agreed breathlessly as he gently pulled away the scarf covering her hair.

“I always loved your hair, the red is so rich and unique. It feels like liquid silk.” He combed through it with his fingers, his expression intent.

“That’s the shampoo and conditioner I use,” she said with a smile.

“You think?”

She nodded. She wasn’t a vain woman, she didn’t think, but Iris had always insisted on using salon quality products on her hair. The way it slipped through Asad’s fingers now made her little idiosyncrasy worth it.

“I think it is the magic of the woman, myself.”

“You think I’m magic?” she asked softly, tears stinging her eyes that she would not let fall.

“I do.” He stopped with his hands poised to undress her. “You are sure you want this?”

She was shocked by his question, but maybe she should not have been. No matter how determined Asad was, he was and had always been a man of honor.

She nodded.

“We will erase the ugly memories of the past.”

“What memories are you trying to erase?” she couldn’t help asking, though she so wanted to move forward with the seduction.

He shrugged, but then surprised her by following it up with words. “You were the last woman I bedded that brought nothing but honesty to our time together.”

“You were honest, too.” Though for a long time, she’d thought he hadn’t been.

“Yes.”

“So, this is a reset? For both of us?”

“Yes.”

She got that. He’d been hurt badly by Badra’s infidelity, Iris was sure. Asad wanted to go back to a time when he could trust the woman in his bed. Iris wanted the same thing. “Then, I’m sure.”

He nodded and then removed her galabia with reverent hands, his expression unreadable, but intense and primitive.

Was that possession glowing in his brown gaze? Or desire?