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“And so you wanted to be sure you could feed me?” she asked, even more confused now.
“If you wish me to be specific, I wanted to be sure you wouldn’t die of starvation.”
She stiffened. Was he indirectly implying she had lost her appetite because of him? “I am not—-”
“Spare me the lies, anisdi. Eat—-”
Her temper flared. “You may be one of the king’s vassals,” she hissed, “but you cannot command—-”
Cold anger glinted at the sheikh’s eyes. “If you want me to help you clear your name – eat.”
Oh, curse it.
She turned away from him in an angry huff, not caring if she was acting like a petulant child. Teeth gnashing, she reached for the shawarma and made a show of biting into it without pleasure. She started to chew –
Mm.
She kept chewing.
It was...delicious.
She took another bite.
Curse the man, but he definitely knew his shawarma.
Tarif gazed at his unwilling captive in brooding silence as she finished off her shawarma and reached for her bottle of juice. She was still doing her best to hide the fact that she had enjoyed her meal, but her expressive eyes still ended up giving her away.
Damn stubborn woman.
Never had a woman riled and enthralled him at the same time, and even now he found himself disturbed by the way she had turned the tables on him so easily. She was supposed to pine for him. That was the plan. Make her ache for him so that she would be forced to come crawling to him.
But instead she had chosen to deny both of them by avoiding him as well. And just like that, he had found himself chasing after her like a goddamn infatuated fool.
They would meet each other in the palace’s hallways, and she would bow and greet him without ever meeting his eyes. They would be eating on the same table, and not once would her gaze go to him. He had become invisible to her, just like he had made her feel invisible to him.
And the fucking worst part about it was that he knew – of course he goddamn knew – that Anisah had not done any of those things with the same ulterior motive as he had. She had avoided him like the plague not because she wanted to tease him or play coy but because she wanted nothing to do with him.
With it, she had become the master, and he the puppet.
But the game was done now.
Anisah tensed involuntarily when she saw the sheikh move forward, but instead of reaching for her as she had feared, he had simply taken the empty wrap and bottle from the table and disposed of it behind another hidden compartment.
Tarif leaned back as he watched Anisah hold herself stiff on the other side of the seat. The sheer proximity of her was temptation; he wondered vaguely what she would do if he were to simply do what he knew they both wanted – throw her on her back and claim her pussy, once and for all.
He was certain that fucking her would be pleasure unlike any he had experienced...but he was also equally certain forcing the issue that way would make that pleasure short-lived.
If he wanted Anisah beyond a single fuck – and he damn well did – coming to him had to be her choice and hers alone.
The sheikh’s hooded gaze settled on her, and Anisah’s violet eyes, albeit shadowed by uncertainty, met his head on. He could see that she was ready to fight tooth and nail against him. It was brave of her, but soon she would know hers was a hopeless cause.
The game is over, my sweet.
“You took your time coming to me, anisdi.”
“We both know I’m not here of my own free will.”
“That is so.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile of acknowledgment. “I admit to underestimating your tenacity.”
