Free To Tame a Sheikh by Olivia Gates Page B

wouldn’t have made love to me. So I didn’t, and I-I compromised you. And I had to leave before I did anything even worse.”
    Shaheen stared down at her, life flooding back into him.
    This was why she’d left. She’d thought she had to. For his sake. It had been as magical for her as it had been for him. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, and it had killed her as much as it had him when she’d walked away.
    But one thing stopped his elation in its tracks. Her mortification, her self-blame. Setting her straight took precedence over every other consideration.
    He grabbed her hands, covered them in kisses. “You’re wrong, my Gemma, ya joharti, my Johara. You didn’t compromise me—you energized me, stabilized me. You liberated and elated me. And you were wrong about your doubts, too. I might have hesitated when I found out who you were, mostly from surprise, but nothing would have stopped me from taking you. Nothing but you, if you didn’t want me.”
    Her tears stopped abruptly, the remorse dimming her eyes then giving way to the fragility of disbelief, relief and finally the radiance of wonder.
    His heart expanded, his world righting itself. A hand behind her head and another behind her back gathered her to him, fitting her into him, the half he’d felt had been torn away from his flesh.
    “But you wanted me,” he murmured into her mouth, tasting her, plucking at her clinging lips, over and over. “You still want me.”
    She moaned, opened to him, let him into her recesses, the most potent admission of desire. He took it all, gave more, one thing filling his awareness. His Johara was back in his arms. And he planned to keep her there, to never let her go again.
    He told her. “And I’ll never stop wanting you.”

    Johara cried out as Shaheen’s lips came down on hers in full possession. Her world spun in a kaleidoscope of delight, her body in a maelstrom of sensation.
    But she wasn’t here for this.
    No matter that she’d been dying for him, shriveling up from deprivation.
    She dug her shaking fingers into the vital waves of his hair, tried to tug at them, to have him allow her a breath that didn’t pass through both their bodies. Before he dragged her any deeper into pleasure, submerged her into union with him. She failed.
    But as if sensing her struggle, he withdrew his lips from hers lingeringly, rose to look down at her, his eyes a mixture of tenderness and ferocious possession. “What is it, ya joharti? Your heart is flapping so hard I can feel it inside my own chest.”
    “Th-this isn’t why I came here, Shaheen. I just wanted to explain, to say goodbye—”
    “There will be no goodbyes between us, ya galbi. Never.”
    Before she could cry out that there would be, no matter what either of them wanted, he claimed her lips again.
    And she drowned. In him, in her need, in a realm where only he existed and mattered. She let herself sink, promising herself it would be the last time…
    “I’m sorry. I did knock. Repeatedly.”
    Johara jerked as the soft apology came from far, far away, shattering the cocoon enveloping her and Shaheen. She shuddered, felt Shaheen stiffen above her.
    “Get out of here, Aliyah.”
    Silence met his growl, then a distressed intake of breath.
    “I’m really sorry, Shaheen, but this can’t wait.”
    Johara lurched again as Aliyah’s strained words brought the outside world crashing back on her like an avalanche.
    Earlier, Aliyah and Laylah had tried to cajole her into speaking with Shaheen. She’d made her escape then, thinking she’d saved him from making more compromising mistakes because of her. But if she’d feared any suspicion of their relationship would tarnish his image and hurt his marriage plans, she’d done far worse now. She’d just given Aliyah evidence.
    She lay beneath Shaheen, her dress riding up to her waist, her splayed legs accommodating his bulk as his hands cupped her buttocks through her panties and his hardness ground against her.