Sheikh Without a Heart

“Move on?”

“Yes. You know, this was—it was nice, but—”

He cupped her face, cut off her words with a kiss. She fought it, but only for a second. Then she gave a soft little cry, put her arms around his neck and gave herself up to him.

When he finally took his mouth from hers she was shaking.

“We can’t,” she whispered.

“We already did,” he said. “And I wouldn’t change it for all the riches of the world, sweetheart.” He paused. “And neither would you.” His voice softened. “Tell me that isn’t true and I’ll let you walk away.”

Here was her chance.

He was a man of honor. She knew that already. If she said, What just happened means nothing to me, he would let her turn her back on this—whatever “this” was.

But she couldn’t say those words—couldn’t turn what had been so beautiful into something ugly.

“Karim—”

“I like the way you say my name.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

He smiled. “I know that you’re hell on my ego. And that’s a lot, coming from a man who’s— What was it you called me? Arrogant. Self-centered. A despot.” Another smile. “Did I leave anything out?”

“We’d just met. And—and I know you won’t believe me, but I don’t do—I don’t do—”

“Do what?” he said solemnly.

Color swept into her face.

“I’m not the woman you think I am.” That, at least, was true. “And I don’t go to bed with—with strange men.”

“I’m strange, huh?”

“No! I didn’t mean—”

“That’s okay,” he said, even more solemnly. “Don’t hold back. Just say what you think.”

There was laughter in his eyes. She could feel a smile trying to form on her lips but there was nothing to smile about—certainly not to laugh about.

“You’re impossible,” she said. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“So am I.” He bent to her, kissed her with a tenderness she knew she didn’t deserve. “You think this is wrong because—because of Rami.”

The weight of her deception made it hard to breathe. She nodded; how could she trust herself to speak?

“Because,” he said gruffly, “you slept with him.”