Page 33 of Her Irresistible Sheik
His hand stayed, slipping through her hair, trailing across the curve of her neck like he couldn’t quite let go.His touch left a trail of heat.Her breath came in uneven gasps.
“Damn it,” Mikail whispered hoarsely, the words low and guttural.
Then, too quickly, his hand was gone.
So was his warmth.
And so was he.
He stepped back abruptly, shoving his hands into his pockets like they might betray him again.His jaw was tight.His eyes unreadable.
He looked like he wanted to speak.Maybe to apologize.Maybe to say something that would make sense of the moment.
But he didn’t.
He gave her one curt nod—and walked out.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Nahla stood there in stunned silence, staring at the empty space he’d left behind.Her fingers rose to her lips, still tingling from the kiss.Even now, if she closed her eyes, she could replay every second of it.
And she did.
Once.Twice.A dozen times.
Each memory left her more breathless than the last.
It had been a beautiful kiss.A powerful one.
So why had he run?
Had she pushed too hard?Was she too eager?Too forward?Was she just a momentary indulgence in his life where control and composure ruled everything?
She turned to the monitor where his image stared back at her.Regal.Stoic.Commanding.
But the pictures didn’t make anything clearer.
The clock caught her eye—nearly 1 a.m.The day had vanished while she’d been wrapped in editing, dinner, and…him.
She powered everything down.She couldn’t look at his face on the screen any longer.
Her crime novel lay where she’d left it earlier, just one chapter in.She picked it up, desperate for a distraction.
But the idea of going to bed was no longer an option.
No.Not a chance.
If she slept, she’d dream of him again—just like every other night since arriving here.And tonight…she didn’t think she could take it.Not after that kiss.
Instead, she tiptoed down the hall and curled up in the library, folding herself into one of the big chairs beneath the window.She tucked her feet under her, wrapped herself in a throw blanket, and opened the book.
If she stayed awake, she couldn’t dream.
That was the plan.
Unfortunately, her thoughts were already spiraling.
What if he hadn’t felt the same spark?What if kissing her had been obligation—or worse, mere curiosity?Had she ruined everything by leaning in?By hoping for more?
