Captivated by the Sheikh. Annie West

he wanted with very little persuasion.

      Yet he hadn’t.

      She stared up at him, the throb of her racing pulse deafening in her ears.

      He was a man of his word, she realised.

      Against all the odds she’d found a man who could be trusted, even against his own urgent desires.

      After the dark phantoms that crowded her past, that should be impossible. A man she could trust.

      Rosalie’s chest tightened suddenly as if constricted by metal bands. Her breath sawed in her lungs and a ball of burning emotion rose in her throat. She tried to swallow it down, combating the searing ache at the back of her eyes.

      Stupid to be upset now, when everything was all right. She was safe, after all. Unharmed. Untouched, but for the heady caress of his mouth against hers.

      Yet the sharp pain of unharnessed emotions accelerated rather than dwindled. She gulped down hard on the knot of sensation as she blinked against her blurring gaze.

      ‘Rosalie?’ His voice was rusty, harsh. ‘What’s wrong?’

      She shook her head. She couldn’t speak. And no way could she explain the surge of emotions churning within her: the relief and incredulity, the self-disgust and remembered pain. There was more too, a tumble of pent-up feelings that had more to do with the past than with what had just happened. Somehow their kiss, the intimacy between them, had unleashed the demons she’d kept at bay for so long.

      Rosalie bit her lip and turned away. She felt him move to give her more space. He probably thought she was off her rocker! To get teary over a kiss. A first class mind-blowing kiss, but still, as far as he knew, just a kiss.

      She planted her hands against the richly patterned carpet of the floor and tried to concentrate only on what she saw. On the delicate whorls of colour in the stylised pattern of flowers and tendrils in the silk and wool. Flowing lines, clear ruby tones with a fine tracery of azure and cream and indigo. Buds and leaves and arabesques of gold.

      ‘Rosalie.’ His voice was lower this time, husky and deep. She felt it roll across her shredded nerves, soft and powerful as the surge of the tide.

      Even his voice had the power to seduce!

      ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, finding her voice at last. ‘I just felt a little…faint,’ she lied. How else could she explain the unstoppable force of raw emotion that had hit her, just when she was at her most vulnerable? She couldn’t explain it to him. She could barely understand it herself. She just knew that she’d experienced something…wonderful. And it wasn’t just Arik’s expertise at kissing or the taste of mutual enjoyment. It was the tentative rekindling of faith in another.

      It had been a long time coming. Until today she’d never thought it would happen.

      And it was overwhelming.

      She lifted a hand and surreptitiously wiped away the tears that had overflowed on to her cheeks. With her shoulders hunched and her back to Arik, she hoped he wouldn’t notice. But she doubted he’d miss anything. His eyes were as keen as an eagle’s. Which meant she had to brazen it out.

      ‘Here.’ She looked down to see his squared hand hold out a gilt-edged glass to her. ‘Drink this.’

      It was tropical fruit juice. Cold, sweetly tart and refreshing. The everyday act of sipping and swallowing helped. So did the immediate sugar boost. Slowly she drained it.

      ‘Thanks.’ She held the glass out, darting a glance at his set face, and then away from his intense scrutiny.

      ‘Are you ill?’ Arik took the empty glass and placed it on the table. ‘Do you need a doctor?’

      She shook her head and the wispy tendrils of bright hair swirled round her face, framing features that were only gradually regaining some colour.

      ‘No, I’m okay.’ Her lips quirked up in a perfunctory smile that tugged at something in his chest. ‘I just felt a little…’

      ‘Faint,’ he finished for her, angry at the frustration of knowing he wouldn’t get the truth from her now. Worried for her. Whatever had happened, she wasn’t going to trust him with it. But of one thing he was sure: Rosalie Winters hadn’t been on the verge of a faint, however stunning their kiss. He’d still been reeling from the impact of her mouth opening like a flower beneath his, the sensation of her warm, seductive body relaxing into complete abandonment beneath him, when he’d seen the look on her face.

      Tears, that was what he’d seen. Tears and a flash of something he couldn’t pin down. Surprise? No, it had been stronger than that. Amazement? Horror?

      Surely not. He could vouch for the fact that no woman he’d kissed had ever been horrified by him.

      And that kiss had been completely mutual, after those first few moments when she’d hesitated. No way could she have faked that reaction. She’d been perfect. Responsive; almost innocently seductive and eager. So eager that he’d been tested to the limit, reining in his burgeoning lust. No woman had ever tasted that good or felt so inviting. And it hadn’t been the piquancy of their almost-caress, of knowing he shouldn’t, couldn’t trust himself to hold her and stop at a single kiss.

      No, there was something…different about kissing Rosalie Winters. Something that left him with a gnawing, unsatisfied hunger deep inside. Hunger for her body. But for more too—for her smiles and her confidence.

      He stared at her averted profile, lost for an explanation as to why this woman affected him so. Yet this wasn’t the time to fathom it out. There was something wrong. Badly wrong.

      ‘Would you like me to take you back to your hotel?’ He hadn’t known he was going to make the offer until the words spilled from his mouth. It wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was a repeat of that kiss. And to explore a little further, to hold her in his arms and learn the secrets of her body. Taking her back would put an end to those plans. And yet it mattered more to him that she recover from whatever had upset her.

      Just as long as it wasn’t him. What would he do if he discovered it was he who’d made her cry?

      ‘Thank you, but I’m all right. It was just a passing thing.’ She flashed him a look from stormy grey-green eyes that cut right through him. He’d give so much to see the shadows fade from her face.

      ‘I’d rather go sightseeing—’ she paused and drew in a shuddering breath ‘—if the offer still stands?’

      Arik knew a moment’s uncharacteristic indecision. Instinct told him he should press for more information, uncover whatever it was she kept hidden, for he knew it was important. But selfishly he wanted to spend the afternoon with her. If he pushed for answers then she could take flight and leave.

      ‘Of course the offer still stands. On one condition.’

      Her widening eyes met his. He watched the tip of her tongue slip out and moisten her lips and wished he’d bargained for another kiss. The effect she had on his body was overpowering and immediate. Even now, worried about her, he was hard with lust.

      ‘What’s the condition?’

      ‘That if you feel faint again I take you straight to a doctor.’

      Her smile this time was genuine and its impact hit him hard in the solar plexus.

      ‘Thanks, Arik, but I’m sure I’ll be okay.’

      Watching her lips shape his name had to be one of the most erotic things in the world. Especially now, when her mouth was swollen from kissing him. The taste of her was still in his mouth, an addictive flavour that heightened his appetite for her. He stared at her lips a moment longer, wishing the old custom of wearing a face veil still prevailed. It was too distracting watching her mouth, inviting and lush, and not being able to take it again.

      ‘Come.’ He rose to his feet and held out an imperious hand to her. ‘I hear the four wheel drive. It’s time we were on our