Hidden In the Sheikh's Harem

Hidden In the Sheikh's Harem by Michelle Conder Page A

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Authors: Michelle Conder
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popping up at the right moment to remind her why she disliked him so much. ‘No.’
    â€˜Just follow my lead.’
    His grin widened as she flashed him a look. ‘Do you even understand the word
no
?’
    â€˜You never know, Farah, you might enjoy it.’
    And wasn’t that half the problem? She knew that maybe she would enjoy it. Too much.
    Before she could rally her defences against him, he raised his left hand. ‘Right hand in mine.’
    Farah froze so he reached down and clasped her hand in his. ‘Now, left hand on my shoulder.’
    Again she froze and again he took control and did it for her.
    â€˜Now what?’ she asked, her whole body taut as she tried to remain impervious to this nearness.
    â€˜Now I put my hand here.’ He placed his left hand lightly against her hip and Farah’s spine lengthened as she registered the heat of his touch.
    Her lips felt dry and she mashed them together. He watched her like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. ‘And now?’
    â€˜Now we move together.’ He smiled, clearly amused by her stoicism. ‘It’s called a waltz. When I lead with my right leg, you move your left leg back. No, not like that—smaller steps, remember, and slower. My leg is supposed to slide against yours so that it looks like we’re moving as one.’
    A lone sitar player filled the dance floor with a gentle, teasing ballad and Farah desperately focused on the music as the prince’s muscular body lightly brushed her own.
    â€˜Close your eyes.’
    Her eyes flew to his and she moved her face back when she realised how close they were. ‘Why? What are you going to do to me?’
    â€˜Nothing you don’t want me to.’
    Time seemed to grind to a halt as those gravelly words grazed along her nerve endings. She felt her pulse race. Those blasted magazine images wove into her consciousness and heat made her dizzy. Then she realised she was holding her breath and let it out.
    â€˜Closing your eyes might help you feel the music,’ he suggested, watching her closely.
    It might help her forget about how devastatingly handsome he was as well, so she did. On some level it made her awareness of him even more intense, but on another it did help, and before she knew it she could feel herself moving much more gracefully than she would have thought possible.
    â€˜You’re a quick study,’ he murmured against her ear. ‘How are the feet now?’
    Farah shivered and opened her eyes. She’d forgotten all about her feet but now she could feel the balls of them throbbing. ‘Not great.’
    He pulled her indecently close. ‘Lean against me,’ he said roughly.
    She wanted to say no, she wanted to move away, but gremlins had invaded her body and suddenly her lids drooped closed and she entered some dreamy realm where her body took over. She wouldn’t have said exactly that she was dancing because they were barely moving but it felt lovely. She could feel him against her, hard and so solid. His body was so different from her own and it amazed her how they fit together—as if they were made for each other.
    When the music changed tempo her eyes drifted opened and she was embarrassed by how lost she had been in the moment. Her heart beat double time and she was shocked to realise how aroused she was just by dancing with him.
    It used to be that her body was more like a machine that did her bidding: arms, legs, hands, feet. Now she was aware of useless things, like her breasts, the hollow space between her thighs, the prince’s hand on her hip and a tingling weakness at the back of her knees. Sensations that made her feel fragile and defenceless. And then she wondered if it was the same for him. Did men feel weak and defenceless when lust overtook them? Did Prince Zachim feel that right now, for her? It seemed impossible and yet more shocking was how much she wanted him to want her—she, a village

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