Her Seductive Enemy, page 15
Chapter Eighteen
“This...is...not...right.”
“Of...course...it...is.”
Anisah wanted to argue, but she also knew that if she did, she might just run out of her breath with the way she was already panting. They were inside her classroom, for heaven’s sake, and with only fifteen minutes before the bell would ring and students would come rushing—-
“Aaaaah!”
The sheikh’s last thrust was so much deeper and harder, forcing her back up against board, and her eyes rolled back at the sheer pleasure of it. “T-Tarif—-” But the sheikh was already pulling out and slamming back into her the next moment, and she gave up all thoughts of protesting and simply clung to him.
Was it crazy that she enjoyed having him rough her up even though she was also seriously worried that he’d end up ripping her apart? He was just so massive, and so cursedly wild—-
The university’s warning bell rang shrilly throughout the building, the sound breaking through the sexual haze that had filled her mind, and an anxious little cry escaped her. “Tarif, we have to stop—-”
“Not until you come,” the sheikh rasped.
Her eyes flew wide open. “No! There’s no more——” Time. That was what her last word was supposed to be, but it died in her throat as the sheikh started shoving his thick manhood faster into her – so much faster, and oh, harder than ever. He pounded into her nonstop until she spiraled into a screaming, mindless orgasm, and the sheikh had to cover her mouth with his hand to keep her cries from spilling out.
Tarif knew the moment her senses returned, with color brushing her cheeks with a vivid shade of pink while her violet eyes went wide with appalled misery. He grinned, and she whimpered as he lifted his hand off her mouth.
She shook her head, whispering, “I’m so...” Angry? Appalled? Ashamed?
The sheikh raised a brow. “Late?”
Anisah’s gaze flew to the classroom’s wall clock, and she cried out in horror when she saw she only had less than fifteen minutes before her next class started. Oh curse her life, the sheikh was right!
Chuckling at the panic that crossed her lovely face, Tarif said soothingly, “Stop worrying, my sweet. I have guards outside. They won’t let anyone in until we’re ready.”
“But—-”
“But nothing. Now be a good girl and stay quiet while I help you.”
She didn’t even have time to protest, with the sheikh immediately moving to suit actions to words. He put her clothes to right, tucked loose locks of her hair back into her cap, and he did so with such efficiency that he had even time to arrange the soft layers of her headdress into place with minutes to spare.
The sheikh stepped back with a smug smirk. “Well?”
The words ‘thank you’ were stuck in her throat. She just plain hated it every time he proved his superiority, and so she glared up at him instead, saying ungratefully, “I wouldn’t be in trouble in the first place if it wasn’t for you.”
But the sheikh only chuckled. “As always, my sweet – your sheer graciousness simply takes my breath away.”
The barb successfully reached its mark, and Anisah could feel herself turning red again. “I honestly don’t know what I see in you,” she muttered under her breath. “If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect you of bewitching me—-”
“Maybe I had.” The sheikh sent her a lazy, devastating smile. “After all, did you not say you found me ‘somewhat irresistible’?”
Anisah’s mouth opened and closed. Was it just her imagination, or had the sheikh echoed those old words of hers like they were the height of disrespect?
Tarif almost smiled when Anisah suddenly planted her hands on her hips as she threw him a suspicious glare. “Correct me if I’m wrong, alshaykh, but it has suddenly occurred to me that the reason you have been so insistent in coming here was to prove—-”
“I am completely irresistible to you as opposed to my brothers?” He turned his hands open in a gesture of casual admission. “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.”
“You pompous, petty man!” No wonder it had seemed to her the infernal man was hell-bent on not taking no for an answer, and Anisah cringed at the memory of how that very forcefulness of his had been more effective in arousing her than rousing her suspicions.
Seeing that Anisah was working herself up into a temper, Tarif did not hesitate to play his trump card and immediately reached for her hands, saying, “Maehdina, anisdi. There are still times when I have this crazy urge to prove to myself that I am the only man you find completely irresistible...” He looked down at her. “Am I?”
“That is not the point,” Anisah flung irritably at him.
“You have not answered my question, my sweet. Am I the only man you find completely irresistible—-”
“Oh, for heaven’s—-”
“Or am I merely on equal footing as my brothers, who I’m certain you find ‘somewhat’ irresistible?”
Anisah’s mouth snapped shut, her words of rage all but forgotten. Oh, curse his dastardly good skills in manipulation! The man knew that he only had to frame things in that perspective, and she was good as his slave.
It had been a month since they had gotten back together, a month in which her free time was divided into two distinctly separate compartments: half of it was spent being ravished by the sheikh, while the other half was spent cooped up in the royal library, with Anisah tirelessly combing through the classified records of the palace’s historians.
In it, she had found horrifying testimonies about Tarif’s suffering, files that would only be revealed to the public fifty years after his passing as demanded by Ramilian laws. Those harrowing words were now engraved in her mind, and her heart still hadn’t stopped crying over them. She doubted it ever would.
How could she when she might be in love with Tarif Al-Atassi?
Even now the realization made her want to shrivel up in fear, and there were still so many nights she would lie awake, body bathed in cold sweat at the thought of how much her life would change if it turned out to be true, and she had done the most unforgivable, irrevocable, and irreparable thing by falling in love with the sheikh.
And worse than that...she had a terrible feeling that the sheikh knew it, too.
“Uh oh.” Tarif attempted to make light of the situation as he let go of his fiancée the moment he caught the look in her eyes again. More often than not, it meant she wished to speak of that matter again –
“Are you free this afternoon, Your Highness?” Anisah asked casually.
“Depends on why you’re asking, my sweet,” he answered just as casually.
She frowned up at him, and he smiled down at her.
“We can’t continue this way for long, Your Highness.”
“Why not?”
“There are things we have to talk about—-” Like the horrifying fact that I might need to commit myself if it turns out I’m indeed in love with you.
“And we will talk about them,” he assured her smoothly. “In time.”
“But it’s already been a month—-”
“Wrong, my sweet. It’s only been a month, so there is no need to hurry.”
“You asked me to marry you, for real.”
“I did, for real.”
Anisah scowled at the sheikh’s infuriating attempt to reduce their words into a mere game. “We must talk about this, Your Highness. It does not make sense for us to continue with our engagement if we cannot even talk—-”
The sheikh’s expression hardened. “Are you saying you will not be my wife if I do not do as you say?”
“Do not twist my words so!” Anisah’s fingers balled into fists in a fit of frustration. “You know what I am saying—-”
“Nem, anisdi, unfortunately I do, and that is why I have no wish to speak of it.”
The finality in the sheikh’s voice told her that he remained immovable on the topic, but even so, stubborn fool that she was, Anisah still heard herself ask, “Do you truly not wish to hear the words?”
“No, I do not.” He saw her flinch, but he hardened himself against it. He had to, for both their sakes. “How can you not see what is happening here?” he asked wearily. “How can you truly not know, anisdi?” Did she think it was so easy for him to constantly say no to the plea in her lovely eyes? She offered him her body and soul, and God knew how much he wanted – needed – to take it, to own and consume her until she no longer remembered how to exist without him.
But he could not.
Every fucking day in the past month had been fucking fantastic, and that was what terrified him the most. She was still the Anisah who made his blood boil for five hundred different reasons, still the Anisah who could make him laugh, scowl, and groan with desire all at the same time. But...she had also changed. The Anisah of the past month had also been softer and gentler, tenderer – like a warrior goddess who only sheathed her sword and laid her armor down in his company because he was the only man she trusted.
That new Anisah tore him apart every single day because she made him wish for the impossible.
That new Anisah stood before him now, and ah, how he goddamn wished he could close his eyes to reality and let himself succumb to the illusions that now shone in her violet eyes.
But he could not.
He just could not...because her love might not be real, but his was.
“What are you saying, Tarif?”
And maybe just this once...he had to say it. Just this once, he would force her to see the truth, come what fucking may.
“What you think you’re feeling is not what you think it is, Tory. It is merely pity,” Tarif said heavily, “and I do not want it.” She started to shake her head, started to speak, but he lifted a hand to stall her words. “Think about it first, my sweet. Just really think about it – when did you know of your feelings for me? Was it not when you knew of my mother? Does that not tell you something?”
For one moment, Anisah could only stare at him, unable to say a single word because she was scared if she did, she would end up crying. She had wondered, of course she had wondered why he would not want to hear the words, but never she had thought that.
Maybe it made her a fool not to even consider the possibility he would think her feelings as pity, but it simply had not occurred to her. Even before, when she had merely seen him as naught but a playboy – even then, he had never been the kind of man she would pity. Only weak men were to be pitied, and Tarif Al-Atassi had never been a weak man in her eyes.
Ruthless, yes, sinfully, oh absolutely, but never weak –
Never pitiful –
And contrary to what the sheikh thought, learning about his mother had only made Anisah see how much more there was of him to love and look up to.
“You daft man.”
Tarif stiffened at the words.
“Do you not know that your story only made you more beautiful in my eyes? Learning about your past has not made me pity you. If anything, it has made you even more irresistible than you already are, so much so that I wonder if I deserve you—-”
The cursedly daft man was staring at her now like she had suddenly grown a pair of horns before his very eyes.
“Must I spell it for you?”
“I think so.” The sheikh’s voice was hoarse. Maybe he was a fool to believe Anisah was speaking the truth, but he did. Damn it to hell, but just this once, he wanted to take a fucking leap of trust and believe that he could make a woman love him for what he was and not what she thought he should be.
The sheikh’s gaze locked with hers. “Say it now then, anisdi. Say it now—-” His chest tightened as he watched her lips start to part, but before any word could come out, someone knocked thrice on the door, a bodyguard of the sheikh alerting them to the presence of incoming students.
Fuck!
“Anisah—-” He immediately reached for her, but the mood was completely ruined, and he cursed again when she jumped out of her reach.
“Not now,” she protested. “My students could come in any moment—-”
“But didn’t you say there are things we have to talk about?” he demanded.
“And didn’t you say we could talk about them in time?” she asked helplessly.
Tarif glared at her. “Just say the words, dammit.” He closed in on her, forcing her against the chalkboard. “Say it—-”
The doors flew open.
Fuck.
The sheikh and Anisah, albeit both looking a bit flushed, stood at the opposite sides of the room by the time her students came rushing in. It took them three seconds to realize that it was truly a flesh-and-blood Tarif Al-Atassi standing in front of them, and then the gasping and squealing began.
Clearing her throat, Anisah asked, “Before Sheikh Tarif leaves, would you like to have your photo taken with His Highness?”
Thirty or so young girls crowded around him in an instant, and the sheikh no longer had time to badger her as he was forced to smile for the cameras. By the time he managed to extricate himself from her students, Anisah had to swallow back a laugh. He looked like he had gone to war, with his badly rumpled blazer and his tie askew. She watched him touch his cheek with a grimace, and her eyes widened when she belatedly noticed the tiny bleeding scratch on his face. That was when she lost it, and she burst into peals of laughter.
“What’s so fucking funny?” Tarif demanded testily under his breath as he reached her.
“N-Now y-you k-know.” Laughter made her voice shaky and barely coherent. “H-How i-irresistible y-you are.”
And then the damn harpy doubled over and started laughing again. The sight was as infuriating as it was arousing, and the sheikh shook his head in exasperation, knowing that there was no way he could get a sensible word out of her now.
Anisah’s female students sighed when the sheikh gave them a courteous bow as he excused himself, and they all but swooned when the sheikh kissed their professor on the forehead before leaving the room.
Tarif’s phone vibrated inside his pocket just as he stepped inside his limousine.
Anisah: Sorry we didn’t get to talk, but...you may consider the words said.
Tarif’s good mood remained glaringly evident by the time he joined the other sheikhs in the security room, and his cousins grimaced at the sight of it.
“For fuck’s sake, Tarif. How long are you going to strut like a well-paid manwhore?” Khalil grumbled.
“As long as you and Malik did during your honeymoon,” Tarif replied easily as he took his seat at the table.
The other sheikhs shook their heads in shared disgust. It was truly no fun when Tarif didn’t rise to the bait like he usually did.
Looking around, Tarif asked, “Andy isn’t here yet?” The palace technician had been the one to request for the meeting, having acquired a new set of footage of the attack.
“He should be here any moment,” the kingdom’s army commander answered as he stood up to start handing out case folders to each sheikh.
“I believe Tarif’s the only one who hasn’t been briefed about this,” Rayyan murmured.
“No surprise there,” Malik drawled, “since he’s been too busy wearing his heart on his sleeve.”
The sheikhs waited for Tarif to blow up.
But Tarif’s broad shoulders only moved in an indolent shrug. “It wasn’t as if none of you knew where to find me if you had an urgent need for my services.”
The sheikhs groaned at his all-too-calm response, and Tarif shook his head. “Give it up, you bastards.” Turning his attention back to his case folder, Tarif asked, “Any important developments on the security front I should know about?”
“Nothing absolutely certain for now,” Altair answered as he returned to his seat at the opposite end of the table. “And you? Any developments on the emotional front we should know about?”
“It’s going—-” Tarif broke off when he realized the other sheikh had almost baited him into giving an actual answer. “Fuck you, Altair.”
But no one was paying attention to him. The other sheikhs were too busy laughing, and Tarif was exasperated when Khalil, Malik, and Rayyan reached for their pockets to dig out cash. “What did you even make a bet for?”
“The first person to have you act like the besotted fool you are,” Khalil answered without hesitation.
Tarif flipped everyone the bird. “Go to hell.”
“How are things between you two?” the king asked. “Since you haven’t fucked up for a month at work, I’m guessing it’s good, but I could be wrong.”
“Why are you all so damn invested in my relationship—-” Tarif broke off when the other sheikhs started grinning again. “What now?” he demanded in exasperation.
“You used the big R word, brother,” Malik informed him gravely.
“Big what?”
“Relationship,” Altair spelled out.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
“Does that mean you’ve told her you love her then?” Rayyan asked curiously.
Tarif’s face became inscrutable. “No.”
The other sheikhs exchanged looks, but it was the king who finally spoke, asking, “Why not? Your feelings – and the lady’s, too, actually – have been obvious for quite some time.” He saw his cousin’s lips twist at his words, and Khalil frowned. “Are you saying I’m mistaken?”
“There was a time,” Tarif said lightly, “when the whole palace also believed my mother was an angel rather than the psychotic bitch she was.”
Khalil wasn't able to answer right away. His Aunt Tamara had been monstrously manipulative, and even though Tarif had never blamed any of the other sheikhs for not realizing what he had been going through—-
A part of Khalil did blame himself for it, and he knew that the others felt the same, too. They had known each other their whole lives, and yet none of them had even a single fucking inkling that Tarif had been suffering that much.
But...things were different now. Tarif might think that their constant ribbing had to do with their collective desire to bring him down a peg or two, but in all honesty, Khalil and the other sheikhs had one other motive – one that was too appallingly altruistic the king knew they would never actually admit to it out loud.
