Sheikh's Baby Of Revenge

He sobered up. And frowned. “So I can take your word that you’re not hurt?” He flicked another glance at her jaw. “Other than your jaw?”

“I misjudged the distance between the last ledge and the stairs, but I’m not hurt.”

He nodded. “And what is so irresistible that you took such a dangerous route...? What is your name?”

Zara, Humeira, Alisha, Farhat...

“You’re thinking up fake names.”

She blinked. Like a hawk, he watched with predatory intensity. And something else... Possessiveness, perhaps.

She swallowed. “I would get into trouble if word gets out that I escaped my room or that I was wandering the palace without guard or that I spent all this time in the dark with a stranger...a lot of trouble.”

“No one will know,” he said. “I will get you back to your room unharmed and undiscovered.”

And all the while he tempted her, he watched her. As if he found her endlessly fascinating. “I don’t know if I can trust you,” she said.

His fingers pushed back a strand of hair that brushed her jaw. Featherlight and tender, his touch knocked down the little sense remaining in her skull. “I think you do trust me. Which is why you have lingered here so long already. All you need to do is take the final step, ya habibiti. We’re strangers passing a few moments together in a long life.”

Another rough-padded finger lifted her chin until she was gazing into his eyes. His nostrils flared, the set of his jaw resolute. “I would have your real name.”

If he had commanded her, Amira would have prevailed. But beneath that request was a thread of longing that resonated in her soul. What could such a commanding man want that he was ever denied?

He was harshly beautiful, like the rugged landscape of the desert, and yet he looked at her with such pure need.

The last of her good sense and diffidence melted. Innocent she might be when it came to men but she already felt like she knew him.

He wouldn’t hurt her.

“Amira...my name is Amira.”

Fire awakened in his eyes. They both knew she had given him more than just her name in that moment.

He tilted his head—a regal nod for granting him the privilege of her real name. Warmth filled her chest. “I’m Adir.”

“Salaam-alaikum, Adir.”

“Walaikum-as-salaam, Amira.”

He took her hand in his, completely engulfing hers. Sensations shimmered through her, flowing like a river from where their hands touched to spread all over her body. And then he was softly tugging her to him. Raising their clasped hands, he placed a soft kiss to the tender skin at her wrist.

It was a chaste kiss—nothing more than a buss from those lips to her skin. And yet her pulse skittered under his mouth. “Meeting you has made an awful night a thousand times better.”

The way he held her gaze, the banked fire in it...she wanted to answer it with her own fervor. For one night, she just wanted to be Amira and not a power-obsessed man’s daughter, nor the fiancée of a mostly indifferent prince. She wanted to sink into Adir’s arms and let him carry her away.

“You know, when you smile, you get two dimples. Did you know that dimples are caused when a facial muscle called zygomaticus major is shorter than normal? Sometimes, they’re also caused by excessive fat on your face. Although, in your case, it’s definitely not excessive fat, because you look hard as those rock structures we see in...in...”

His smile dawned as slow and bright like the sun over the horizon.

Amira buried her face in her hands and groaned loudly.

“So you’re informing me that my facial structure is flawed, yes?”

She tried to tug her hand from his. He didn’t let her. “Oh, please, you know you’re flawless.”

That seemed to take him aback. Didn’t he look at himself in mirror? Did he not have women flocking to him for a glimpse of that wicked smile?

Still smiling, he pulled her to her feet. “You’re...like a desert storm, Amira.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment.”

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Do you want a compliment, ya habibiti?”

“Yes, please.”

Again that pure laughter—a reward for her boldness. “You’re precious. Now, do me the honor of letting me check you.”

When she straightened all the way, he patted her down in an impersonal manner. As if he was used to her antics and had done it a thousand times before. As if he cherished his right to indulge her.

A hard knot made its place in Amira’s throat.

His hands rested on her shoulders. The sheer breadth of him took her breath away anew.

“So what was it this time?”

Caught staring at him once again, Amira frowned. “What was what?”

“What caused you to divulge all those important facts about dimples to me? Was I making you sad, perhaps? Upset? Angry?”

“You’re shamelessly goading me into admitting something I shouldn’t. Isn’t it enough that I made a fool of myself?”

“Please, ya habibiti.”

She raised a brow, stalling for time. “Why do I have the feeling you never say that word?”

He shrugged. “A couple of times in the last decade.”

She sighed. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know. “I’m attracted to you. I could steal all kinds of romance novels from the library and read about all the feelings that hit a woman when she finds a man attractive, but it’s not even close to what I feel. You could be forgiven for thinking it was all cooked up to sell books, this whole chemistry thing. And yet...it’s new and it’s strange and it’s utterly scary and it’s...”

Heartbreaking and painful.

Despair swamped her so fully and so suddenly that she pulled away from him. Looking up, she fought for composure.

Stars glittered in the sky above, winking at her. The fragrant night with its whispers and taunts seemed like a punishment now. It promised something she could never have.

Warmth coated with his scent reached her back. She tensed as he stilled behind her. Her pulse zigzagged all over at the closeness. He didn’t even touch her.

“Come away with me, Amira. Just for a few hours. I promise you again I would never harm you.”