Free Taken by the Sheikh by Kris Pearson Page B
Authors: Kris Pearson
going, Miss Kiwi?” he growled in fury.
He stretched one arm sideways and snapped on the lamp. The sash trailed from his wrist, but no longer from Laurel’s.
She lay panting beneath him, breasts heaving, eyes huge and panicked.
“To the bathroom,” she gasped. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I must have had too much of that nice juice with dinner. Let me up or you’ll be sorry.”
His eyes bored down into hers, trying to gauge her true intentions. Was she inventing this? Grudgingly he moved aside, granting her freedom but still regarding her with extreme suspicion.
She rose with a display of hurt dignity and padded across to the bathroom. His eyes followed her slim legs all the way up to the hems of his black silk shorts.
She crept back in beside him a little later.
“You’d better tie me up again,” she said, proffering the end of the sash.
“You got out of it easily enough last time.”
“Yes, so I did,” she said, sending him a grin that looked far from contrite. “But you don’t trust me, Rafiq. Tie me up again please.”
Would this work? She was certain she’d had his sympathy after telling him about Gary. He’d held her hand with such warmth and tenderness then. And somehow she hadn’t felt quite so scared any longer. Now she was thrilled to hear him reply, “No Laurel, I’m sure there’s no need. It was a stupid idea.”
She stretched and yawned, secretly enjoying the way his eyes zoomed straight to the taut fabric of his shirt as it outlined her breasts. “That’s what I thought in the first place, but you went all macho on me.” She made a small show of checking her watch “Only 1.45? It’s a long night, isn’t it...”
She snuggled down just a fraction closer to him. She’d undone the top buttons of the shirt in the bathroom and wondered if he’d noticed. She needed to distract him, somehow put him off his guard. He’d kept glancing at her breasts during dinner. Maybe a little skin was the price she’d have to pay to divert his attention. She surely had nothing else she could bargain with, and he hadn’t switched the lamp off yet.
Once again she lay there pretending obedience. He was being a well-mannered pig she had to admit, but there was no way she was willing to be kept prisoner like this. How was she going to get free?
“Tell me about your parents and your brothers,” she asked. “Unless it’s too painful of course.” She waited, wondering if he would.
Rafiq didn’t reply immediately, but after a minute or two he sighed and said “It was a long time in the past, Laurel. Time does not heal, but at least it dulls.”
“Mmmm.” It hadn’t dulled her memories of disgusting Gary, displaying himself so close to her bedroom window.
“My father was a good man,” he continued. “Firm but fair. Al Sounam prospered under his rule. The oil-fields were productive, we had excellent contracts with America and Great Britain, and there was food for everyone.”
“And your mother?”
“Beautiful. Much loved. I will show you her photograph. You shall see our whole family, the way we used to be.”
“You as well?”
“Of course. But you won’t recognize me.”
“You were seventeen—quite grown up. Of course I’ll recognize you.”
“I have been rebuilt,” he murmured. “No-one recognizes me. That’s why I can do the work I now choose to. No-one knows I’m the King’s son, except a very select few. Two doctors. My uncle—who is my father’s twin brother. His wife. Yasmina of course. And several men very high in the Security Service.”
“And me.”
“Yes—I shall have to kill you now I suppose.” He lunged at her in the bed, laughing and nipping at her neck.
Laurel threw out a hand to fend him off, terrified by his unthinking proximity, and connected with the big key through his trouser pocket. It had slid backward; almost slipped onto the sheet between them. If he moved a little more...?
“You wouldn’t kill me, you rescued me,”
He stretched one arm sideways and snapped on the lamp. The sash trailed from his wrist, but no longer from Laurel’s.
She lay panting beneath him, breasts heaving, eyes huge and panicked.
“To the bathroom,” she gasped. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I must have had too much of that nice juice with dinner. Let me up or you’ll be sorry.”
His eyes bored down into hers, trying to gauge her true intentions. Was she inventing this? Grudgingly he moved aside, granting her freedom but still regarding her with extreme suspicion.
She rose with a display of hurt dignity and padded across to the bathroom. His eyes followed her slim legs all the way up to the hems of his black silk shorts.
She crept back in beside him a little later.
“You’d better tie me up again,” she said, proffering the end of the sash.
“You got out of it easily enough last time.”
“Yes, so I did,” she said, sending him a grin that looked far from contrite. “But you don’t trust me, Rafiq. Tie me up again please.”
Would this work? She was certain she’d had his sympathy after telling him about Gary. He’d held her hand with such warmth and tenderness then. And somehow she hadn’t felt quite so scared any longer. Now she was thrilled to hear him reply, “No Laurel, I’m sure there’s no need. It was a stupid idea.”
She stretched and yawned, secretly enjoying the way his eyes zoomed straight to the taut fabric of his shirt as it outlined her breasts. “That’s what I thought in the first place, but you went all macho on me.” She made a small show of checking her watch “Only 1.45? It’s a long night, isn’t it...”
She snuggled down just a fraction closer to him. She’d undone the top buttons of the shirt in the bathroom and wondered if he’d noticed. She needed to distract him, somehow put him off his guard. He’d kept glancing at her breasts during dinner. Maybe a little skin was the price she’d have to pay to divert his attention. She surely had nothing else she could bargain with, and he hadn’t switched the lamp off yet.
Once again she lay there pretending obedience. He was being a well-mannered pig she had to admit, but there was no way she was willing to be kept prisoner like this. How was she going to get free?
“Tell me about your parents and your brothers,” she asked. “Unless it’s too painful of course.” She waited, wondering if he would.
Rafiq didn’t reply immediately, but after a minute or two he sighed and said “It was a long time in the past, Laurel. Time does not heal, but at least it dulls.”
“Mmmm.” It hadn’t dulled her memories of disgusting Gary, displaying himself so close to her bedroom window.
“My father was a good man,” he continued. “Firm but fair. Al Sounam prospered under his rule. The oil-fields were productive, we had excellent contracts with America and Great Britain, and there was food for everyone.”
“And your mother?”
“Beautiful. Much loved. I will show you her photograph. You shall see our whole family, the way we used to be.”
“You as well?”
“Of course. But you won’t recognize me.”
“You were seventeen—quite grown up. Of course I’ll recognize you.”
“I have been rebuilt,” he murmured. “No-one recognizes me. That’s why I can do the work I now choose to. No-one knows I’m the King’s son, except a very select few. Two doctors. My uncle—who is my father’s twin brother. His wife. Yasmina of course. And several men very high in the Security Service.”
“And me.”
“Yes—I shall have to kill you now I suppose.” He lunged at her in the bed, laughing and nipping at her neck.
Laurel threw out a hand to fend him off, terrified by his unthinking proximity, and connected with the big key through his trouser pocket. It had slid backward; almost slipped onto the sheet between them. If he moved a little more...?
“You wouldn’t kill me, you rescued me,”