Sheikh Without a Heart

Karim’s mouth twisted with distaste.

“Is that what you say when you give yourself to a man? That things happen?”

“It wasn’t—it wasn’t the way you make it sound.”

“I’ll bet it wasn’t.” He caught her chin, forced her to look into his eyes. “Was he flush with winnings when he first bedded you?”

Rachel’s hand shot up. He caught it, caught both her wrists and imprisoned them against his chest.

“How much did you cost him? How much did it take to overcome your hatred, habibi?”

“You bastard! You miserable bastard! You don’t know anything about me. Not a damned thing—do you understand? Not one single damned—”

His mouth closed over hers.

She fought him. Struggled. And then, as before, the earth tilted beneath her feet and her mind emptied of everything but the taste of him, the feel of him, the way his arms closed around her.

He lifted her off the floor, his mouth angling over hers, plundering hers, and she tunneled her fingers into his hair as he drew her hard against him.

“I hate you,” she whispered against his mouth even as she kissed him, even as she gasped at the feel of his hands cupping her bottom. “I hate you, Karim, I hate you …”

A bell rang. It rang again, and then the pilot’s disembodied voice announced that they’d be landing in five minutes.

Karim set her on her feet. His face was all planes and angles; his eyes were dark.

Her own eyes stung with tears.

“If you ever do anything like that again …” she said, and then she clamped her lips together.

She was as much to blame as he. He’d started the kiss but she had fallen into it.

Tears of rage stung her eyes. At him? At herself? It didn’t matter. This wouldn’t happen again.

She wouldn’t let it.

She spun away, took a seat and belted herself in. The wheels kissed the runway. As soon as the plane came to a stop she undid her seat belt and got to her feet, but not in time to prevent the Sheikh from clasping her shoulder and pulling her to him.

“Welcome to New York, habibi,” he growled. “And do not make promises you won’t be able to keep.”

He bent his head to hers. Captured her mouth. She groaned, felt her body flush with heat …

And she bit him.

Bit his bottom lip hard enough to make him jerk back and let her go.

A spot of crimson bloomed against his flesh. He touched his finger to it, looked at her, and then his eyes narrowed.

“If you want to play games,” he said softly, “I’ll be happy to accommodate you.”