Jennifer Lewis - The Sheikh Who Desired Her - Secrets of the Oasis / The Desert Prince / Saved by the Sheikh!

Salman was back on the other side of the car, his long legs spread out. His voice was tight. ‘I never intended to hurt you, Jamilah. I should never have seduced you.’

Utter shock had Jamilah turning to face Salman’s rigid profile. Only a deep self-preserving instinct had her saying faintly, ‘I’ve already told you that you didn’t hurt me, Salman.’ Liar . ‘What exactly are you saying?’

He flashed her a look, and she saw something indefinable in his eyes. ‘I wasn’t ready to let you go. I still wanted you. I’ve always wanted you. But I had to let you go …’ his mouth twisted ‘… when you said you were in love with me.’

As she watched he seemed to compose himself, and that smooth mask of urbanity came back. It was as if she’d just imagined his slightly tortured look. He turned to face her more fully and said, ‘But now that time has passed, and seeing as you’ve assured me that you’re unscathed are you sure you want to persist in denying that this attraction is still there? After all, what do either of us have to lose now? We’re both adults, experienced …’

Shock was rushing through Jamilah. She was trying to make sense of his words and at the same time make sure he couldn’t see the turmoil she felt. He was saying that he’d let her go just because she’d been in love with him? That he hadn’t wanted to let her go? It put such a new spin on what had happened that she wanted to go to a quiet place and assimilate the information … But even as she wanted that, she was aware that really it didn’t change much. He’d still cast her out because he hadn’t welcomed her ardent affections …

He was waiting for her response—so impassive, so implacable. Panic beat at her breast, and Jamilah cast him as cool a look as she could muster. ‘I’m not interested in pursuing this line of conversation, no matter how adult we might be. Out of the myriad women you’ve no doubt entertained in your suite, I’m sure one will be available to meet your needs. Because I am not.’

Jamilah avoided Salman’s eye as they drew closer to the iconic Paris hotel, feeling acutely vulnerable. As much as she might think she’d had the last word, she felt uncomfortably as if Salman had taken no heed at all and was merely biding his time to pounce.

As the car pulled in to a halt at the kerb outside the entrance of the hotel she could see doormen rush to the doors. Salman took her hand in a merciless grip and said softly, ‘There’s a lot to be said for slaking this desire between us, Jamilah. Here in Paris. Be done with it for good. I won’t be calling up any other women because that’s not what I need.’ His jaw clenched as if in anger for a second. ‘What I need is you … and it’s the same for you. I’ll be here when you’re ready to admit it to yourself—because your body has already spoken.’

And then her door was being opened and she had to get out. She ripped her hand free from Salman’s, saying caustically as she did so, ‘Dream on, Salman.’

A short while later Salman was looking at the ornately decorated door which had just been shut in his face. A key turned in the lock at that moment as a perfunctory accompaniment, and he smiled grimly before turning and walking into the main part of the huge suite. It consisted of two bedrooms, with their own sitting rooms and en suite bathrooms, a formal dining room and salon, and a state-of-the-art office complete with every kind of technology for the modern businessman.

Sexual frustration pounded through his body. He’d never felt it this badly before. He was used to having his needs met, and for the first time had to face the prospect that he might just be facing his match. Determination fired his blood. He’d seen through the icy veneer that Jamilah had projected all the way up to the suite. He’d seen the pulse beating hectically under the delicate skin of her neck. She’d admitted she wanted him. He was going to woo her as he’d never had to woo a woman in his life.

With that thought in mind, and quashing the prickling of his conscience because once again he was ignoring her vulnerability, he felt the burning desire finally abate to a more manageable level, and strode into the office to take care of some work.

The following morning Jamilah felt tired and gritty-eyed after a disturbed night. She’d tossed and turned for hours in the huge luxurious bed, and had finally had to resort to another cold shower in the early hours of the morning. The key she had turned to lock the door on Salman the previous night might as well have been made of air; he’d still managed to infiltrate her every sleepless thought.

Now she felt more weary and exhausted than anything else as she emerged into the opulent salon. She was dressed in a dark grey pencil skirt and matching jacket, white shirt, buttoned all the way up, and black high heels. Hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

But nothing could have prepared her for seeing Salman standing at the main window, decked from head to toe in traditional Merkazadi robes of cream and gold, complete with turbaned headdress. He was all at once devastating and intimidating. Her heart flip-flopped ominously.

He turned and quirked a brow, reading her look instantly. ‘What? I can play the part when I want to, Jamilah.’

Jamilah struggled to find her composure. She couldn’t believe that seeing Salman dressed like this for the first time in years was having such an effect on her, but it was. It was transporting her right back in time to when they’d been so much younger, and he and Nadim had looked like two men old before their time at their parents’ funerals. A deep melancholy assailed her and she valiantly fought down the emotion, terrified he’d see something of it.

She hitched up her chin and said, ‘It’s amazing how regal a robe can make one look.’

‘When one is not regal at all?’ He put a hand to his chest, and a mocking smile curled his lip on one side. ‘You wound me, Jamilah, with your condemnation. I’m not likely ever to redeem myself in your eyes, am I?’

‘I’m not here to redeem you, Salman.’

Her words struck him somewhere vulnerable and deep. Salman had to school his expression and walk over to her. ‘I’m not looking for redemption or absolution from anyone.’ He was unaware of the bleakness that flashed through his eyes. ‘I’m looking for something else much more … earthy and immediate.’

Jamilah took a step back, unable to stand so close to him, and said briskly, ‘I’m going to have breakfast downstairs. I’ll see you at the first of the meetings.’

She turned and all but fled, and heard from behind her, ‘Run all you want, Jamilah. It’ll make the final capitulation so much sweeter.’

The main door slammed behind her on the way out, and it was a hollow and empty sound.

After a morning of intense meetings, where Jamilah stayed largely in the background as she was really only there to discuss the stables, she was reeling slightly at seeing how Salman had been so authoritative and informed. And it would appear he’d taken others by surprise, too—people who had perhaps expected him to live up to his feckless playboy reputation.

She couldn’t in all honesty say that Nadim would have contributed anything more, and in fact Salman had put forward some audacious suggestions that she knew for a fact the more inherently cautious Nadim would never have sanctioned.

Now everyone was breaking for lunch, and she was trying to make a discreet escape, fully intending to find a coffee shop nearby despite the fact that lunch was being provided.

Jamilah stifled a gasp when she felt her hand being taken in a much larger one which had familiar tingles racing her up arm and into her belly. Salman .