Lynn Raye Harris - Sheikh's Desert Desire

“Rashid, please.” He stopped speaking. There was no moisture in her throat at all. She thought of everything he’d just said and wanted to run and hide. She wasn’t shy, but it was too much to process so soon. “Can I please get used to the idea of being married before you start throwing duties at me?”

He looked stiff. Formal. He was so incredibly handsome in his dark desert robes today. They were trimmed in fine gold embroidery that sparkled and shimmered as he moved. Her own dress—a deep purple silk gown with a cream hijab—was not as beautiful.

“Since you informed me you did not wish to be married, and that you did not like having nothing to do, I assumed you would be happy to do things that would take you away from me.”

This conversation was like navigating a minefield. How did one respond? Did she ignore the jab about marriage and focus on the part about being busy? Or did she address them both?

“You know what my objections to this marriage are, so I’m not repeating them. And I would like to be busy, but the things you’ve mentioned are not like running a party-planning and catering business.”

His mouth flattened. “Some of the skills are the same. You said you liked to make people happy. You will be doing the same as a royal princess. And there will be functions to plan, if you wish to be involved in that.”

“I think you know I would.”

“Then you will inform your secretary. She will arrange everything for you.” He went over to his desk and shuffled through some papers while she stood there and felt like a kid who’d been called into the principal’s office for misbehaving.

“Are you angry with me?” she finally asked, deciding that the only way to get anywhere with him was to speak her mind.

He looked up then, his dark gaze spearing her in place. Her blood thumped slowly in her veins at the heat she saw there.

“Angry? No.”

He went back to what he was doing and she huffed a sigh. “Rashid, you don’t act like someone who’s not angry.”

He dropped the papers he’d been going through and came around the desk. Then he leaned back on it and crossed his arms. “You looked like a lamb being dragged to the slaughter at that table just now.”

Her blood was beginning to hum with irritation. It was a welcome feeling compared to the ones she’d been having. “You didn’t seem all that happy, either. I don’t think there was a person in this room who believed either of us wanted to get married, so don’t you go blaming me for your mood.”

“I do blame you, Sheridan. My mood is one of frustration. Because I could smell you beside me and I couldn’t touch you. You’ve told me not to touch you and I won’t. But it frustrates me greatly. A man should be able to touch his wife.”

Her heart skipped. Of all the things she’d thought were bothering him...

The blood rushed wildly through her veins. He was sexually frustrated, not angry. He wanted her. In spite of everything, little bubbles of excitement popped and fizzed in her tummy.

“I thought you said we would have a marriage in name only.” Because he had said so in the car in Savannah, and though they’d already had sex twice, she wanted him to admit he’d changed his mind. Because she wasn’t going to keep having wild encounters with him and then be sent away as if she’d somehow misbehaved.

His eyebrows shot up. “Do you honestly think after this past week that’s going to happen?”

She shrugged. “You tell me. Both times we’ve been together, you couldn’t wait to get away.”

He put his forehead in one palm for a moment, his fingers spanning his temples. And then he was looking at her again.

“It’s not you.”

There was a pinch in her chest. “That’s a cliché, Rashid. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s also what people usually say right before they say something awful, like ‘I think we need to take a break’ or ‘I just can’t love you the way you deserve.’”

As soon as she said the word love she wished she could call it back. It had no place here, and judging by the way he was looking at her now, it never would.

“We are clearly not taking a break. We’ve only just started. And as for love...” His expression grew stony. “I’m not capable of it, Sheridan.”

Sheridan swallowed hard. Why did it hurt to hear him say it? Did she really expect love to enter the equation?

Yes. Yes, she did. Maybe not now, but someday. How could you live with someone, have such undeniable sexual chemistry with them, and not fall in love at some point? It didn’t seem possible. There was more heat between her and Rashid than there’d ever been in both of her other relationships combined.

But maybe that was just her. Maybe Rashid took that kind of response for granted.

Sheridan turned toward the door. “I think I should go now. You clearly have work to do.”

“I’m not trying to hurt you, habibti.” She thought of the way Kadir had said that word to his wife and tears welled behind her eyes.

“Why would I be hurt?” She lifted her chin. “We are nothing to each other, Rashid. Apparently, we’re going to remain that way.”

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