CAROL MARINELLI - Desert Hearts - Sheikh Without a Heart / Heart of the Desert / The Sheikh's Destiny

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.”

“Karim, please. I don’t want to—”

“No. Neither do I. Hell, Rami’s the last thing I want to talk about right now.”

“You think—you think I cared for him. But—”

“No. I don’t. You said you hated him, remember?” His dark eyes narrowed. “But we can’t pretend you and he …” He took a long, harsh breath. “You slept with him. You bore his child.”

A sob burst from Rachel’s throat. She spun away, but Karim caught her, turned her toward him.

“You think I need to hear the reasons?” His eyes met hers. “I don’t. What happened is in the past. Now, today, tomorrow … that’s what matters.” His voice turned husky. “Besides, if there is one thing I know with all my heart it is that you may have slept with Rami—but you and I just made love.”

Tears rose in her eyes.

“We made love,” he said fiercely. “You know it. I know it. Why won’t you admit it?”

“Because—because—”

She gave a muffled sob. Karim cursed and gathered her in his arms. She buried her face against him and her hot tears fell on his bare chest.

“I don’t give a damn about anything that happened before we met,” he said, his voice raw. “This. Us. That’s all that matters.”

“There is no ‘us.’ There can’t be. I told you—you don’t know anything about me …”

He bent his head, took her mouth in a hard, quick kiss.

“I know everything I need to know,” he said roughly. “You’re brave. And strong. You face life with dignity and courage.”

Guilt was sharp as the thrust of a knife into her heart.

Tell him, a voice within her whispered. You must tell him. You have to … you have to—

“I was wrong to say I’d take your son from you.”

Oh, God! “Karim,” she said quickly. “Karim. About—about the baby—”

“No. You don’t have to say anything, habibi. You are a good mother. A wonderful mother. We’ll find a way around this.” His expression softened; he smiled and ran his thumb gently over her mouth. “And you’re beautiful,” he said softly. “Not just your face and your body. Inside, where it counts, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. So you see? I know all I need to know about you.” His smile broadened. “Except, perhaps, what you would like for a midnight snack.”

Rachel looked into the eyes of this man who had turned out to be nothing like his brother, nothing like any man she’d ever known.

Despite herself, her lips curved in an answering smile.

“You’re changing the subject, Your Highness.”

“Aha. Progress.” His tone was solemn, but his eyes were filled with laughter. “That’s the first time you’ve used those words without making me cringe.”

Her smile broadened. “Don’t let it go to your head, but you can be a very nice man.”

He grinned.

“For an arrogant, self-centered despot, you mean?”

Rachel laid her hand against Karim’s jaw. It was rough with end-of-day stubble. It made him look dangerous and incredibly sexy.

“Maybe I was wrong about that.”

“You were right, habibi. I am all those things—but not when I am with you.” He caught her hand, pressed a kiss into her palm. “On second thought …” His voice turned as rough as that stubble. “On second thought …” His teeth sank lightly into the flesh at the base of her thumb. “Are you hungry, too, sweetheart?”

Rachel looked up into her lover’s dark eyes and answered the question she saw there.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m hungry for you.”

Karim groaned, brought her hard against him and kissed her.

The world, and the web of lies she had created, spun away.

NOW they could make love more slowly.

There was time to learn each other’s most intimate secrets, to explore with slow hands and deep kisses, to speak in a lovers’ language of soft whispers and softer sighs.

“I love the taste of you,” Karim said as he lay back with Rachel in his arms.

God, he did.

Her skin was silk against his lips, her nipples honey-tipped buds. Her scent was intoxicating, pure and female. Everything about her heightened his desire: the way she moaned when he caressed her, the curve of her mouth against his, the blurring of her eyes when he entered her.

He enjoyed sex, and there was no sense in not admitting he was an accomplished lover. Still, a part of him always remained a little removed during the act, and if he’d given it any thought he’d have said that was a good thing; it meant he could hold on to his self-control until the last possible second.

Not with Rachel.

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