Sheikh's Dark Seduction: Seduced by the Sultan

His papers forgotten, he leaned back against the pillows. ‘Did you really think that I’d be able to go to sleep after what’s just happened?’

She shrugged. ‘I have no idea. Your current behaviour is something of a mystery to me, but that won’t be my problem after this weekend is over.’

She walked over to one of the drawers and Murat watched as she pulled out one of the nightgowns she usually only wore whenever they were travelling. There was a brief flash of flesh as the towelling robe was swiftly replaced by the slither of creamy silk and lace as she pulled the gown over her head.

‘You don’t usually wear anything in bed,’ he observed.

She straightened up and looked at him. ‘Ah, but these are not usual times, Murat. Even you must realise that.’ Pulling the pins from her hair, she went to turn off the light, but he shook his head.

‘No. Don’t put the light out.’

‘It’s late.’

‘I know what time it is.’

She pulled back the duvet. ‘I hate to disappoint you, but I’m still not in the mood for sex.’

‘No.’ And the strange thing was that neither was he. Oh, he was aroused just from looking at her, that much was a given. He could feel the heavy beat of desire as she climbed into bed beside him. But he recognised that having sex now would somehow be inappropriate, like going out to dinner and discovering you’d forgotten to put your trousers on. Too much had been left unsaid. There was too much distance between them. Her body language was unfamiliarly cool. And it was funny...but when you took sex out of the equation, it forced you to look at a situation with a new and disturbing clarity.

With a start he realised just how much he took her for granted. How he always expected her to be instantly acquiescent whenever he arrived back in London. Always smiling. Always scented. Eagerly opening her arms and her thighs for him. Letting him rip the exquisite lingerie from her body before ravishing her. Because that was how women had always allowed him to behave. How they wanted him to behave. Indeed, it seemed to feed into the fantasises of most women to discover just how sexually masterful he could be. He had grown up in a macho culture where the wishes of men reigned supreme and he’d certainly never come up against any opposition to that viewpoint from the opposite sex.

She was the perfect mistress, of course she was, because she completely sublimated herself to his desires and wishes. Yet while that had always been immensely satisfactory, wasn’t this new and unpredictable Cat making his heart race in an unexpectedly powerful way?

He placed his papers on the bedside table and turned to look at her. Her eyes were tightly closed and for a moment he almost smiled at the fierce look of determination on her face. ‘Look at me,’ he said.

‘I don’t want to look at you. I’m still angry with you.’

‘I know you are—and I recognise that you have a right to be. I should have spoken to you about what was happening and I think we both know why I didn’t. But we’ve discussed that and we can’t go back and change it.’ His voice lowered. ‘And I’m wondering if we’re going to waste our last weekend together fighting?’

At this, her eyelashes fluttered open, their feathered darkness revealing a vivid emerald gaze which was tinged with reproach.

‘What else did you have in mind instead of fighting? I’ve just told you that I’m not in the mood for sex and since that’s pretty much your only method of communication, then I imagine you must be stumped about what to do next.’

He leaned over her, inhaling the scent of her clean skin. He felt the unsteady skip of his heart. ‘How about a simple kiss goodnight?’

Catrin stared up into the hawk-like face which was now inches away from hers. She felt...disorientated. As if night had suddenly become day. As if she had woken from a dream into a new world she barely recognised. All she knew was that the balance of power between them had shifted and she was on unfamiliar territory. Suddenly, Murat was on the back foot. He wasn’t demanding from her, or just reaching out and taking. For once he seemed to be seeking her permission—even her approval. And he was about to discover that she wasn’t letting him off that lightly.

She gave him a candid look. ‘It won’t just be a goodnight kiss though, will it? You won’t be satisfied with that.’

‘I may not be satisfied with it,’ he said, ‘but that doesn’t mean I can’t do it.’

Something in his response made her bite back a reluctant smile and, chastely, she turned her cheek towards him. ‘Oh, very well. One kiss, that’s all.’

But gently, he captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger and slowly turned her head around to face him. She saw the flicker of something she didn’t recognise in his eyes before he lowered his head towards hers.

It was a butterfly kiss. The faintest brush of his mouth against hers. Such a grazing touch that it was barely there—but it was enough to set her senses on fire. She could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. She could feel the lick of his saliva, as the tip of his tongue flicked tantalisingly at the entrance to her mouth.

And instantly, she wanted him to insert his tongue fully, to mimic the action of a far greater intimacy which her body was already beginning to crave. Her breasts grew heavy and the honeyed ache deep in her belly made her want to wriggle her body against him.

The hands which had been pillowed behind her head now moved automatically to rest on the bunched muscles of his powerful shoulders. Her fingertips began to dig gentle grooves into the silken flesh as he brought her body close to his.

She could feel his arousal pressing hard against her belly and her blood thickened. She wanted to part her thighs for him. She wanted him to touch her where she was aching to be touched, but even though the effort nearly killed her—she forced herself to pull away.

The way he was looking at her was making her feel vulnerable and she felt a flush of colour creeping into her cheeks. Because she hadn’t seen that expression of indulgence on his face for a long time. Not since... She swallowed.

Not since the first time she’d met him.

Her heart gave a sudden hard thump. What had happened to that woman who had crisply chided him for his lack of manners? Who had treated him like an equal, even though he’d been a customer and she’d been serving behind the bar. She hadn’t known that he was a sultan back then, and she hadn’t cared.

She had allowed herself to become intimidated by his power and position, that was what had happened. She had given Murat complete control over her. She had become weak, over-accommodating and completely compliant. Was it any wonder that he’d started to treat her with such a flagrant lack of respect?

With an effort, she pulled away from him, sliding across the cool sheet to the other side of the bed and putting a wide expanse between them. ‘A kiss, I said.’

She heard the disbelief in his voice, which he failed to disguise. ‘And that’s all?’

A wave of power washed over her—so potent, that it was almost worth the aching sense of frustration which was gnawing away at her. ‘That’s all.’ She yawned and then turned her back on him. ‘Goodnight, Murat.’

For a moment there was silence until, with what sounded like a small growl, he snapped off the light so that the room was plunged into darkness.

She might have been frustrated, but Catrin felt curiously liberated as she lay there, listening to Murat moving restlessly beside her. And maybe all the see-sawing emotional energy had exhausted her, because her eyelids grew heavy and her body began to relax against the mattress.

When her eyelashes fluttered open, it was to discover that it was morning and that Murat was already awake. He lay propped up on one elbow watching her—his powerful body striped with gold by the shafts of sunlight filtering in through the blinds. Usually, she would have lifted a lazy finger to his lips, or touched his hard, bare torso with a hand which had already begun to tremble with lust. Or leaned forward to kiss him.

But as she had told him last night, this was not usual.

Beneath the duvet, she stretched, aware of the hungry gaze which swept over her, glad he couldn’t see the way that her breasts prickled instantly in response.

‘Sleep well?’ he questioned drily.

‘Like a baby. Did you?’

‘No.’ He gave a hard smile. ‘Did you really expect me to, when I had you beside me like some hormonally charged distraction? Allowed to look but not to touch—something I found especially difficult in view of the fact that your goodnight kiss nearly blew me away.’

Remembering the near-innocence of that kiss, Catrin levered herself up the bed a little and looked into the dark gleam of his eyes. ‘Then I must thank you for not touching.’

‘You’re welcome.’

But his curt reply was replaced by a look which came as close to confusion as any she’d ever seen on his face before.

‘Do you know,’ he mused, ‘that’s actually the first time I’ve ever kissed a woman without having sex with her afterwards.’

‘And how did it feel?’

‘How do you think it felt? How many words in the dictionary are there to describe frustration?’ He lay back against the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the restless night he’d endured. Yet his restraint had been commendable, hadn’t it? At one point she had snuggled up to him, still fast asleep. He’d felt the warmth of her soft flesh as her body had unconsciously invited him to hold her closer, as it had done a hundred times before. And he had found himself unbearably tempted to indulge in that half-asleep sex which always seemed so lazy and decadent.

But he had resisted. As surely as the falcon flew across the desert sands, he had wriggled away from her and spent the next few minutes in a torture of exquisite agony. He had overridden his own desires and told himself that he had no choice. He didn’t want Cat waking up to find him making love to her and then accusing him of taking advantage of her. Yet the experience had left him shaken and slightly bewildered, because it wasn’t like him to tiptoe around a woman’s feelings.

Her soft voice broke into his thoughts.

‘What about some coffee?’

Relieved that some kind of normality was returning to a life which seemed to have been turned upside down, he nodded and smiled. ‘I’d love some.’

But she was shaking her dark head and she seemed to be having difficulty controlling her laughter. ‘That isn’t what I meant. I’m not offering. My role as your quasi servant, as the woman who runs around making your life comfortable, is over. I’m preparing us both for the brave new world which lies ahead. So why don’t you make the coffee for once?’

For a moment there was silence.

‘Me?’

‘You,’ she agreed.

His eyebrows knitted together. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Never more so.’

There was another pause during which he was clearly testing her resolve before he got out of bed. Towering over her, seemingly unaware that he was totally naked and very aroused, he held her gaze for a fraction too long before heading off in the direction of the kitchen.

It was a small victory but one which pleased her inordinately, and once he’d gone Catrin took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom, where some of her composure left her. She stared at her face in the mirror. The no-sex of the proceeding night and this morning’s role reversal made what was happening seem almost like a dream. But it was not a dream, she reminded herself. It was real.

And after this weekend, he would be gone from her life for good.

She hated the fear which iced her skin as she tried to imagine life without Murat. What would fill the great empty space in her life, once her sultan lover was no longer coming home to her?

She felt panic wash over her but she forced herself to push it away, telling herself that she had come through much worse than the end of a love affair. Did she really want to carry on living her life like that—docile and submissive and completely under the thumb?

Like hell she did.

Defiantly, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a light, silky shirt and went to find Murat in the kitchen, now dressed and pouring out two cups of delicious-smelling coffee.

It was strange to see him in such an unfamiliar role and she walked over to one of the high stools around the breakfast bar, and sat down.

‘Smells good,’ she said as he handed her a cup. She took a cautious sip. ‘Tastes good, too. It’s funny, but I never imagined you adapting to domesticity with so much ease.’

‘Didn’t you realise that there’s no end to my talents?’ The glance he shot her was mocking. ‘Maybe you should have asked me to make you coffee before.’

Catrin nodded. Maybe she should. ‘Although you have had servants running around after you all your life, so I wasn’t entirely sure you’d be able to cope.’

‘I don’t think you’d need to be an astrophysicist to be able to decipher the instructions on the side of a packet of coffee,’ he commented wryly. ‘And I have learnt the art of self-sufficiency in the desert.’

‘Really?’ She took another sip of coffee.

‘Really.’ His dark gaze swept over her. ‘Even a sultan must know how to fend for himself. I have made meals from roots and brewed pots of sweet tea when I have been setting up camp with my troops. Fundamental lessons of self-sufficiency are essential when preparing for warfare—and all men are equal in the desert.’

Cat heard the sudden hard note of passion which had entered his voice. Had he enjoyed that kind of self-sufficiency and equality? It must have been elusive to someone who had grown up in a palace. But she’d never really given him the chance to do that, had she? With her, he hadn’t had to lift a finger. She had taken over every domestic element of their life together as she’d tried so hard to be his textbook lover. And maybe he hadn’t wanted her to try that hard. Maybe he had wanted more equality than she’d been prepared to give him. It was a sobering thought.

‘The desert sounds...amazing,’ she said, aware of how wistful her voice sounded.

‘It is,’ he agreed. ‘Although it is also a barren and unforgiving place, where the instinct for survival takes precedence over everything else.’

The instinct for survival.

Catrin’s heart began to pound as she thought about her own survival instinct. Where was that instinct now? Forgotten beneath that undeniably hungry look he was slanting at her, making her wish that things hadn’t changed and that she could just go over to him and lose herself in his embrace. She forced herself to focus on the sunlight which was spilling onto the pots of flowers on the terrace outside. ‘It’s a gorgeous day.’

‘I know it is. What do you want to do?’

She knew the answer he wanted. The answer she was longing to give him. She wanted to go straight back to bed, only this time to make love. She wanted his kiss and the hard thrust of his body. She wanted him to take away this ache of desire which was pooling softly at the base of her belly and to rid her of this terrible sense of frustration.

But something told her that would be a cop-out. And right now she felt much too vulnerable to risk having sex with him.

‘I’d like to do something different. Something on my terms for once.’

‘Such as?’

She looked out at where the rest of the city lay far below them. ‘I’d like to go somewhere without you being shadowed by a whole team of bodyguards. I’d like to get in a black cab and go to the cinema and eat popcorn without anyone knowing who you are. I’d like to pretend that we’re just the same as any other couple.’

‘Anonymity, you mean?’

‘That’s exactly what I mean.’

He looked at her for a moment and then, brilliantly and unexpectedly, he smiled. ‘Then I place myself in your hands completely, Cat,’ he said softly.

She felt a warm glow of satisfaction as she finished her coffee and went off to get ready, while Murat spoke quietly to his bodyguards. And although they weren’t happy, they agreed to a very low-key presence throughout the day.

For Catrin, it felt like another small triumph. She knew it didn’t mean much, but for her it meant a good deal. The hours which lay before them seemed to have endless possibilities. And she was the one making all the choices.

* * *

They walked across Hyde Park and ate breakfast croissants in a café overlooking the glittering waters of the Serpentine. They walked along the riverbank, before making their way to Covent Garden, where they found a small art gallery which was, inexplicably, almost empty. It felt liberating to walk from painting to painting, discussing each one in detail, and she almost forgot the shadowy presence of the bodyguard hovering discreetly in the next room. She made Murat stand in the queue at the cinema and could tell from his attitude that queuing was an entirely new concept for him. She knew that one word would lead to them being whisked into the grandest seats and generally being fussed over, but Catrin didn’t want that. She didn’t want anyone to know who he was.

She wanted him all to herself.

Afterwards they went to Soho, mingling with crowds of tourists and theatre-goers beneath the gaudy lights. They ate hot slices of pizza and then found a quiet pub in one of backstreets, where they sat quietly drinking cola.

In the taxi home he held her hand, turning it over to study her palm as if he were reading her future. And Catrin felt stupidly choked by the simple gesture, quickly turning her head to look out of the window before he could see how suddenly vulnerable she felt.

‘Cat,’ he said.

Blinking away the sudden moistness in her eyes, she waited until she had composed herself before she turned to look at him. ‘What?’

‘Don’t ordinary couples usually kiss in taxis?’

She shrugged. ‘I have no experience of kissing in taxis.’

‘You do now,’ he said roughly as his pulled her into his arms.

This was no semi-chaste kiss like the one they’d shared in bed last night. This was lust: pure and potent. Her breathing grew erratic as his finger traced a provocative line over the zip of her jeans and she gasped helplessly into his mouth.

‘I want you,’ he whispered. ‘And if I could, I would have you now. Right here. In the back of this cab. I’d like to pull your wretched jeans down to your ankles and thrust myself deep inside you. I’d like to watch you writhe around on the seat and then I’d like to see you tip your head back and come, while the scent of our sex filled the air. Would you like that, Cat?’

‘Stop it,’ she whispered, her mouth so dry that she could barely get the words out.

‘I don’t want to stop it, and neither do you.’

The cab slowed to a halt and Cat was still trembling as they got out and she stood waiting while Murat pulled out his wallet. She remembered him telling her that, unlike many royals, he always carried cash with him because it made him feel slightly ridiculous to have to ask one of his aides for money.

But she frowned when she saw the driver peel off some change and hand it to him and she stepped forward.

‘Um. We gave you a fifty-pound note, not a twenty,’ she said.

The driver mimed incomprehension, but Cat was nothing if not persistent and she stood her ground and argued the point, until eventually they walked away with the correct change.

‘You know, I could have easily afforded to lose thirty pounds,’ said Murat wryly as they rode up in the elevator.

‘That’s not the point,’ she said, looping her arms around his neck. ‘It’s a matter of principle. You shouldn’t have to pay more, just because you’re rich.’

His lips grazed over hers. ‘Quite the little hustler, aren’t you?’

‘They call it being street-smart,’ she said lightly. ‘And it’s only because I’ve had to be.’

They shut the door on the bodyguards and turned to each other, but, although the removal of their clothes was fraught with hunger, the sex which followed was different from anything Catrin had known before. For a start, Murat’s fingers were trembling as much as hers as he undressed her and for once his smooth dexterity seemed to have deserted him.

He didn’t usually frame her face in the palms of his hands and look down at her as if he was only just seeing her properly for the first time.

But she didn’t usually have to bite back tears during sex either—aware that her pleasure was heightened by a cruel reality which reminded her that the end of the affair lay just around the corner.

CHAPTER SIX

THE SEX WAS different.

Actually, Catrin quickly realised that pretty much everything was different.

Pressing the send button in reply to the text she’d just received from her sister, she walked out onto the terrace, where Murat was busy talking on the phone in the late afternoon sunshine. His Qurhahian aide Bakri often phoned at this time and the two men usually engaged in long talks about state affairs, which completely engrossed him. But today he looked up as he heard her approach and she read the slow smoulder of approval in his eyes.

Her heart lurched. The last day of their last weekend. Two days during which all the normal rules of their relationship seemed to have changed.

Or maybe it was simply her attitude which had changed. She had shown him a stronger Cat. A more decisive Cat. And in response, Murat had become more of an equal and less of a master.

He’d grown more tactile in ways which didn’t just involve sex. He held her in his arms when he was watching a football game. He had even cooked her lunch, while she sat on one of the window seats quietly finishing a book she couldn’t bear to put down. For two days, at least, their roles had been reversed and it made her wonder how on earth she had been prepared to accept so little from him before.

But she had set the agenda, hadn’t she? Murat had simply followed it. What man in the world wouldn’t lie back and enjoy a woman running round after him like that?

Inevitably, she found herself wishing that she could stay. She told herself that nothing was stopping her from doing that, since Murat had told her over and over that he didn’t want her to leave. Until she forced herself to remember that they still had no future together. All he was offering was a role as his mistress—and who knew when somebody younger and prettier would come along and supplant her? Because that was what happened to mistresses. Easy come, easy go.

She had the kind of background which most men would shy away from—let alone a powerful sultan. She was still the illegitimate daughter of an alcoholic mother and nothing would ever change that, either.

She thought back to the text she had just received from Rachel.

Really worried about Mum.

Catrin had felt fear descend on her like a dark cloud. She’d done all the stuff that the counsellors always recommended. In a hurried phone call, made while Murat had been in the shower, she had reminded her sister that she needed to take a step back. That nobody could stop an alcoholic from drinking if they were determined to do so. She didn’t want Rachel wasting any more of her university vacation, trying to help someone who didn’t want to be helped. She told her that next week she would be travelling down to Wales and she would take over and sort it out...though she wasn’t quite sure how. It was not a prospect she was looking forward to, but some strange kind of loyalty made it impossible to walk away from the mess her mother had made of her life.

And in the meantime, she still had the bitter task of saying goodbye to Murat.

The light summer breeze on the terrace was ruffling his black hair as he clicked off his phone and looked at her and she thought that he had never looked quite as gorgeous or as accessible as he did in that moment.

‘Such a serious expression,’ he mused. ‘You’re not regretting your decision to leave, are you?’

She said the words with way more conviction than she felt. ‘Definitely not.’