The Sheikh's Last Seduction by Jennie Lucas Read Free Book Online

hollow feeling rose in his gut. “Trapping them. To each other. Forever.”
    Irene’s eyes lifted in surprise. Then she scowled. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear, “Look, your royalness, I get how you’re deeply uninterested in any sort of emotion that doesn’t end up in a one-night stand, but seeing as Cesare is your friend—”
    “My business acquaintance,” he corrected.
    “Well, Emma is my friend, and this is her wedding. If you have any rude thoughts about marriage in general or theirs in particular, keep them to yourself.”
    “I was just agreeing with you,” he protested.
    She stared at him, then sighed. “Fine,” she said, looking disgruntled. “This setting isn’t completely romantic.”
    Sharif looked at her.
    “Unlike you, Miss Taylor,” he said softly. “You, I think, are the last truly romantic woman of a cold modern age.” He tilted his head. “You really believe, don’t you? You believe in the fantasy.”
    She looked away, staring fiercely at the happy couple.
    “I have to,” she said almost too softly for him to hear. “I couldn’t stand it otherwise. And just look at them. Look at what they have...”
    Sharif looked at her. He saw the yearning on her face, the wistful, almost agonized hope.
    As the bride and groom spoke the final words that would bind them together forever in the eyes of Italian law, Sharif silently reached for Irene’s hand and took it gently in his own. This time, he wasn’t thinking about seduction. He was trying to offer comfort. To both of them.
    And this time, she didn’t pull away.

CHAPTER THREE
    “N OW , THIS —” I RENE sighed, leaning back on the blanket as she felt the warm Italian sun on her face a few hours later “—is lovely.”
    “Yes,” Sharif’s low voice said beside her. “Lovely.”
    Just the sound of his voice made her heart beat faster. Opening her eyes, she looked at him, lounging beside her on the picnic blanket on the hillside. He’d abandoned his jacket on the way back to the villa. She’d intended to return with the rest of the guests, but he’d convinced her otherwise.
    “You’re not going to make me go back alone, are you?” he’d asked. “And desert me for a bunch of people you don’t care about?”
    She’d hesitated, and when she saw that Emma had already left the town in a luxury sedan with Just Married written in a sign on the back, she’d found it impossible to say no.
    The truth was that she was starting to...like him. It didn’t mean anything, she told herself. After all, it was only natural that she’d find his company slightly more appealing than that of the rest of the wedding guests, none of whom she knew. Why wouldn’t she feel more relaxed around Sharif, especially now that he’d traded the formidable native dress of the Emir of Makhtar for a tailored European suit that made him look exactly like every other man?
    Well. Maybe not exactly like every man. And maybe relaxed was not the precise word to describe her feelings around him.
    Irene shivered.
    Stretched beside her on the blanket, Sharif emanated sex appeal, looking impossibly handsome in a gray vest and tie and tailored gray trousers. She licked her lips as her eyes dropped to the sleeves of his white shirt, rolled up to reveal the dusting of dark hair over his tanned forearms.
    Just seeing that much of his skin made a bead of sweat break between her breasts that had nothing to do with the warm Italian sun.
    He lifted a dark eyebrow, and she realized she’d been staring. And cripes, had she just licked her lips?
    “It’s...warm for November...isn’t it?” she said weakly.
    His dark gaze looked amused. “Is it?”
    “Haven’t you noticed?” She sat up abruptly on the blanket. She was relieved to see the rest of the wedding party and guests picnicking in the post-wedding luncheon farther down the hill. Golden sunlight danced across the field of autumn flowers, in the meadow on the Falconeri estate. Picnic lunches had been arranged