Chapter 4 

"Gabby,"

he breathed my name like a sacred prayer, His hands were a symphony of sensation against my skin, every touch lighting up my nerves like fireworks. As he trailed kisses along my neck, I shivered, feeling an intensity I'd never known before. His touch was like a spark igniting my desire, a flame I yearned to surrender to. His breath against my skin was sweet torture, sending chills running down my spine. I wanted him, more than I'd ever wanted anyone else.  

The pull was magnetic, but he held back, restrained. The silk of his robe against my skin sent shivers down my spine. The warmth of his breath on my neck made my heartbeat erratic. I couldn’t help but lean back into his chest as his lips traced the curve of my neck, each kiss leaving a scorching imprint.  

"Aasif," I whispered, my voice shaky with desire. He didn't reply. He only held me tighter, his strong arms a band around my waist. His kisses grew more intense, searing a trail down to my collarbone. 

 I was becoming a mess of sensations, all my thoughts muddled. All I wanted was him. His touch, his scent, him inside me. I was teetering on the edge, yet he held back. He held us back. He pulled away; his breathing as erratic as mine. His voice was rough, filled with an intense battle of restraint and desire 

"This is just for curiosity's sake, right?" His voice was deep, husky, a sensual murmur against my skin that made my pulse race even faster. "We just want to know what the other tastes like, right?" 

I nodded in agreement, but inside, my thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration and need. 'Shut up and take me,' I screamed in my head. The tingling sensation between my legs was growing unbearable, and it felt like he was purposefully tormenting me. 

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "Yes, just...just for curiosity." My voice trembled, betraying the intensity of my desire. 

His gaze lingered on me, assessing me as if trying to discern the truth of my words. I held his gaze, an unspoken challenge hanging between us. the pent-up desire growing unbearable. But the Sheikh, this infuriating, incredibly sexy man, was hell-bent on drawing out my agony. 

"Why do I get the feeling that you want more than that?" he asked, his tone teasing, but his eyes betraying a hint of uncertainty. 

I smirked, trying to hide my true feelings. "Maybe it's your ego speaking, Sheikh. Or maybe you're the one who wants more?" 

"Right?" he repeated, his voice breaking through my thoughts. He was asking for confirmation. But I didn't want to confirm. I wanted him to break the barriers and explore me, all of me. 

"I... I agree," I managed to choke out. But even as I said it, my body screamed at the lie. His hands on me were electric, stirring something primal. A rush of heat surged through me, overwhelming my senses. 

"Aasif," I moaned, arching my back into his touch. I knew he wanted me. The intense heat radiating from his body betrayed his words. I was on fire, my body yearning for release, for the sweet promise of fulfillment. 

His fingers brushed against my bare skin, making my breath hitch. I heard a low growl from him, a sound that sent a wave of anticipation rolling through me. He wanted me, just as much as I wanted him. But he was holding back. And as much as it was tormenting me, I found myself equally drawn to his control, to the fierce desire burning in his eyes, to this game of pleasure and pain that we were embarking upon. 

"We have a deal then," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. His words were like an ice bucket on my burning desire. We had a deal alright, but all I wanted was for him to forget the damn deal and claim me, as every nerve of my body screamed for him. As he pulled away, leaving me burning with desire, I realized this was just the beginning of an intense dance of desire with Sheikh Aasif. 

***********  

Two weeks earlier, and three weeks working here, the dreaded news came. "Gabby, you'll be part of the team for the medical outreach," Dr. Khalid, my senior resident, announced. My heart sank at the prospect. I was never a fan of change, and the outreach, despite its noble cause, was yet another thing to adapt to in my already chaotic life. 

My perception shifted when the day arrived, and to my surprise, Sheikh Aasif of Al-Qamar was present. The sight of him was unexpectedly striking, his tall, formidable figure radiating authority. He looked different from the day I had run into him in the hospital corridor, the day I had given him a piece of my mind without knowing who he was. The memory made my cheeks warm. 

Ever since that day, I had been looking for an opportunity to apologize to him, though I couldn't ignore the strange pull I felt toward him. His eyes, intense and enigmatic, seemed to hold an allure that my subconscious mind couldn't resist. Even now, as I watched him from afar, I couldn't help but be captivated by his charisma. 

Working in the field, amidst the crowd, I turned and saw him alone for the first time. This was my chance. Gathering my courage, I approached him. As I came to a halt in front of him, words escaped me. His gaze was steady on mine, his smoky gray eyes expectant, urging me to speak. 

The silence grew unbearable, stretching out into seconds, then minutes. It was he who broke it. "Miss Gabriela Luis," he began, his tone slightly condescending, "Is there something you need?" 

His words jolted me back to reality. The confidence I had mustered before approaching him seemed to crumble. "Look," I began, my voice shaky, "I realized I was a bit off with you the other day, so I felt it best to apologize to you in person." 

He simply stared at me for a few seconds, then a smirk played on his lips. "Why didn't you send an email instead?" he asked, his tone casual, as though this was just another regular conversation for him. "Was apologizing to me in person necessary?" 

His words sparked an anger in me that I hadn't anticipated. His blatant disregard for my gesture was infuriating. But he was the boss of my boss's boss's, boss's boss. I had to hold myself back, and suppress the torrent of anger that threatened to burst. 

Without another word, I turned around and walked away, my heart pounding in my chest. The encounter, however brief, had left me shaken. His presence, his gaze, and even his dismissive attitude seemed to have an effect on me that I couldn't understand. 

Despite the bitter taste the encounter left in my mouth, I found myself constantly drawn to his gaze throughout the day. The intensity of his eyes, the allure of his persona was something I couldn't escape, even if I wanted to. 

The following days were filled with routine medical tasks, and though we were all hard at work, I couldn’t help but notice the sporadic presence of Sheikh Aasif. His occasional appearances were brief, yet each time he stepped into the field, his authoritative aura dominated the surroundings. 

Throughout the days, my mind found its way back to the Sheikh despite my best efforts to keep him out of my thoughts. His arrogant demeanor, which should have repelled me, instead strangely intrigued me. Each fleeting image of him sent a peculiar thrill down my spine. 

His brief visits were always the same; he'd step into the field, his magnetic presence pulling everyone's attention. However, his aloof demeanor and the distance he maintained from the rest of the staff kept everyone from approaching him. It seemed like an invisible barrier surrounded him, isolating him from the world around him. 

More noticeably, he was never alone. Accompanying him was a woman who was hard to ignore. She was undeniably beautiful with a radiant glow that made her stand out even in the busy field. Her skin looked like it was bathed in moonlight - so bright and polished. Her presence always stirred an unexpected twinge of jealousy within me. Each time she laughed at something he whispered in her ear, or when he gave her an appreciative glance, a pang would strike at my heart. 

Morgan, my work partner and self-appointed guardian was the voice of reason that frequently grounded me back into reality. Her sardonic comments served as a stark reminder that he was out of my reach, an enigma who I should probably keep at arm’s length. 

On the last day, as I was packing my stuff in the tent, the Sheikh sauntered in. His unexpected question caught me off, guard. "Are you okay, Gabriela?" he asked, his gaze lingering on me. 

"Yes," I answered, "I'm okay." 

"Do you need a ride home?" he inquired. Before I could respond, he added, "Join me. I'll drop you off at your quarters." 

The conflicting nature of this man left me astounded. How could he be so humbly considerate one moment and so commandingly arrogant the next? 

Reluctantly, I agreed and followed him to his car. It was a splendid machine, the latest model, but seemed to have been tailored specifically for him. The scent of leather and luxury pervaded the air inside, reminding me of the opulence of a private jet. It felt surreal, being enveloped in such extravagance. This felt good. 

As the car smoothly navigated through the roads, he broke the silence. "You did a good job in the field," he said, his tone soft, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. 

"Thank you, Sheikh," I responded, taken aback by his compliment. 

We continued the ride in silence, the tension thick in the air, both of us seemingly lost in our own thoughts. 

As we reached my quarters, I bent down to pick up my bags. Simultaneously, he reached out to help me. Our hands brushed against each other, a bolt of electricity running up my arm, sending shivers down my spine. I looked up, our eyes locked, and at that moment, I felt an unspoken understanding pass between us. His eyes held an intensity that mirrored my feelings, and for a second, time seemed to stand still. 

The ride ended with a poignant silence. As I stepped out of the car, I turned to him, "Thank you, Sheikh Aasif," I murmured. 

His only response was a nod, his gray eyes still holding that intense gaze as he watched me walk away. The door closed behind me, echoing the abrupt end of an encounter that had opened up a whirlwind of emotions I wasn’t prepared to deal with. And with that, I was left standing in front of my quarters, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind a flurry of thoughts about the enigmatic Sheikh Aasif. 

As I fumbled with the keys to my quarters, a soft ping echoed in the quiet evening. Glancing at my phone, I noticed a message from an unfamiliar number. Curious, I opened the message: 

"Gabriela, would you be available for brunch tomorrow? I have a proposition for you. - Aasif."