Mills & Boon New Voices: Foreword by Katie Fforde. Ann Lethbridge

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СКАЧАТЬ knees felt suddenly weak. She had a vision of him naked, of his beautiful mouth on her flesh, taking her to heaven. No. “How could you possibly know what I want?”

      His smile was so self-assured she itched to slap him.

      “I will give you permission to excavate in Al-Shahar.”

      Her heart nearly stopped. “The old temples?”

      No one had ever been given permission to excavate the Temples of Al-Shahar. It would be a coup, a crowning achievement. Her career would never be the same.

      And he knew it. His smile was predatory, as if he knew she would not refuse. Just as he’d believed she wouldn’t refuse his proposition ten years ago because he’d been rich and handsome and she’d loved him desperately.

      Did she have the strength to turn him down this time? The strength to walk away from the Temples of Al-Shahar? But how could she accept? Staying with him now, even for something so wonderful as those temples, would test her in ways she wasn’t sure she was prepared to endure.

      But he would keep her here regardless, wouldn’t he? He had the power to do it, and the will.

      “I would not refuse this, were I you,” he said softly. “Don’t be a fool because of your wounded pride, Genie.”

      She stiffened. “You are quite mistaken if you still think that affects me, Zafir. It was ten years ago.”

      “Then what will it be?” Again that predatory gleam. “Because turning down the jewel in the crown of your precious career would be extremely foolish. And you know it quite well.”

      She hated that he had her right where he wanted her. Because he was right, and she wasn’t going to refuse. No matter how dangerous staying with him would be to her heart, she had to do it. It was only temporary. It would take weeks to gather what she needed to excavate in Al-Shahar, so she would have time to recover from this experience. And she need not see him when she returned. He was a king now, and she was an archaeologist who would be on a dig in his city. She had a team who would coordinate with whomever in his government handled these things.

      They would not meet again. And, even if none of that were the case, she couldn’t let him see that, contrary to what she said, she was still very much affected by the past.

      “Very well,” she said, holding out her hand. “I accept.”

      Zafir took her hand in his. Instead of giving a firm shake, he turned her palm up and brought it to his lips. A shiver trickled across her nerve-endings on tiny feet, bringing goosebumps to the surface.

      “A wise decision,” he said softly.

      And then he tugged her into his arms and kissed her.

      In the space of a few moments he’d decided he was going to have her again. This need buffeting him was stronger than he remembered. He’d always been enchanted with her body, but had he always felt this reckless desire to possess her no matter the cost?

      Surely not. Because right now he wanted to rip the turquoise abaya from her body and lower her onto the furs in his tent. He wanted to lose himself in her, and he wanted to remember what it had been like between them.

      The heat, the passion, the pleasure.

      She’d filled that hole inside him that no one ever had, and yet he couldn’t call it love. He hadn’t been in love with her. But he’d needed her.

      He didn’t need her anymore, but he wanted her.

      Her mouth parted, whether in surprise or compliance he did not know. But he took advantage of the situation, slipped his tongue against hers—and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. Her arms went around him, her body pressing to his so sweetly. If not for the dagger she would be able to feel the effect she still had on him.

      He held her close, slanted his mouth over hers to take as much as she would give.

      And she gave far more than he would have believed. Proud, beautiful Genie kissed him like a woman starved. Like a woman who’d suffered drought and deprivation and had finally stumbled into an oasis of plenty.

      She still wanted him, and the knowledge fired something primal in his blood.

      Zafir cupped one of her breasts beneath the soft fabric, groaned low in his throat. He wanted to bare her body and feast his eyes and senses upon her. But he could not do so here—not in the reception tent. He swept her up into his arms and strode toward his sleeping quarters.

      Genie clung to him, still kissing him, her passion as hot and intense as ever. He didn’t break the kiss, though he had to keep his eyes open to see where he was going. Her skin was flushed a pretty pink, and her long auburn lashes fanned across her cheeks. He wanted her to open her eyes, to look at him with those deep pools of rainwater-gray, to see the passion flaring in them as he made love to her.

      A guard stood at attention as Zafir passed into the interior of his private quarters. He set Genie on her feet. She seemed suddenly wild-eyed as her gaze darted around the room—as if she’d awakened in a prison cell instead of a palace.

      “Patience, little one,” he murmured as he unhooked the ceremonial dagger and tossed it aside.

      But when he took her in his arms again she stiffened, her hands coming up to brace against his chest. “No, Zafir,” she gasped. “I can’t.”

      Frustration and disappointment spiraled through him at once.

      “Ah, so this is how it will be. I should have known.” He loosened his hold and she jerked away, wrapping her arms around herself as if she were chilled.

      “What’s that mean?” she snapped.

      “You know what it means, Genie. You tell me one thing with your body and another with your mouth.”

      Her chin tilted up, her eyes flashing. “I agreed to stay for the chance to excavate in Al-Shahar. I did not agree to sleep with you ever again.”

      His body pounded with the need for release, and she looked at him as if she’d not just been wrapped around him, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

      She was very much the ice-cold scientist she’d always wanted to be. And that infuriated him. How dared she think she was the one in control here?

      “Perhaps I wish to attach new conditions to the agreement.”

      Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

      He took a step toward her, fury whipping him. “Do not presume that you know me any longer, habiba. The man I was back then is dead.”

      “You would blackmail me into your bed simply to get back at me? To punish me because I didn’t want to be your plaything for however long you wanted me?”

      Her words stung his conscience. And yet…he didn’t care. He was angrier than he’d been in a very long time. Angry with fate, with her, and with the stubborn sheikhs who argued over territory and made his life difficult when all he wanted was the best for his people.

      He focused on the woman before him. She tried hard to hide it, but she was flushed, СКАЧАТЬ