The Sheikh’s American Fiancée: Desert Sheikhs Book Three Read online

She swatted his chest. “Not a dream. The flight was cancelled. So I guess I’ll have to hole up for one more night.”

  “What a pity,” he murmured, clasping her hands in his. “You’ll have to force me to act upset about this.”

  “I guess I’m not terribly upset either,” she said, pushing onto her tiptoes to brush her nose against his. “Is this PDA allowed? I don’t want to scandalize the village.”

  “I’m the king,” he said, his breath coming out hot on her cheek. His lips made a damp trail over to her jawline. “Remember?”

  She shivered. The king. And her king, at least for one night.

  “I’m happy I get to see this party,” she said into the top of his jawline, her lips brushing against his skin. Dakaric’s hands trailed down the sides of her arms, until he gripped her by the wrists.

  “Maybe we should skip it.”

  A giggle erupted from her. A dizzy sort of happiness fluttered through her, making her entire body buzz. So this was what it felt like to have a real, bona fide romance. Someone who lit her up. Someone who might forever remain her most treasured romance, even if this only lasted for the duration of her visit.

  “I’m down for that.”

  Dakaric began to lead her away with a determined glint in his eyes, but then he stopped abruptly in front of a woman who was stirring a big bowl of hummus.

  “Food.” Dakaric sent Christina a stern look. “We need to have nourishment.” The corner of his mouth turned up. “For all the energy we’re about to expend.”

  She bit back a laugh, nodding as she surveyed the offering. The woman, her head covered in a purple shawl, picked up a floppy piece of flatbread and piled hummus inside. She shoved it into Christina’s hand, murmuring something in Arabic. Christina looked to Dakaric for a translation.

  “She said, ‘For our future queen. May you be blessed.’”

  Christina grinned shyly at the lady and mustered her best rendition of “thank you” in Arabic. Dakaric led them to another stall, where lamb was slow roasting over a pile of charcoal. The embers glowed red beneath the grate loaded with meat. A man with a curlicue mustache handed Dakaric six kebabs, each one packed with meat and roasted veggies.

  “I think we’re ready,” Dakaric said and then snagged a bite of lamb off the kebab stick. He groaned after he swallowed. “It somehow always gets better.”

  Dakaric fed her a bite from the same stick, their eyes locked as she chewed. The tenderness of the meat was unparalleled. She wiped away a little juice from the corner of her mouth, shaking her head. “Freakishly good.”

  They ambled back to the inn, the din of the celebration slowly receding until it was just a low hum beyond the front doors. Dakaric arranged their food on a plate in the kitchen before leading her upstairs.

  Each step up the staircase felt important somehow. It wasn’t like she was a virgin, but in a lot of ways this union with Dakaric felt more real than anything she’d ever experienced with a man. So maybe she was a virgin in some way. An emotional virgin, about to connect with a man who truly desired her.

  The bedroom door clicked softly shut behind him. A signal—all bets were off. His gaze turned fiery, and he set the platter down gently, already undressing her with his eyes. Her skin prickled with anticipation, waiting for him to make the first move.

  And then his hands were cupping her face, kisses so urgent and hungry that she stumbled backward. But Dakaric held her steady, wrapping her in his arms, rooting her to the earth with his mouth and his tongue.

  She could have kissed him forever, but the burning between her legs demanded more. She tugged at his shirt, unable to pay enough attention to find the buttons and undo them herself. Without breaking the seal their mouths created, Dakaric undid his shirt, and it fell to the ground. His hands roamed under her shawl, tugging the fabric loose. He pulled back, his chest heaving.

  “I need you naked,” he said, his voice practically a growl. He scooped her up into his arms, carrying her over to the bed. He tossed her down, his abs flexing as he undid the belt of his work pants. She lay in shock, or maybe adoration—it was hard to believe this was really her life, that this Adonis was about to consume her. She started to unbutton her khakis, but he stilled her by grabbing her wrists.

  “I want to.” He gently laid her hands down at her sides, the look in his eyes reverent. He shoved his pants down, revealing the black briefs tented by his cock. She swallowed hard, unable to look away. But why should she? This was all for her.

  “Be my guest.” She wanted to sound sexy, but she caught the tremor in her voice. What if he was too big? It had been over a year since her last hookup, and the guy had been woefully small. Dakaric didn’t seem to have that problem. His briefs were the Mount Everest to her rolling hills. He climbed onto the bed, his knees making indents on the mattress around her. He peeled off her tank top as if he were undressing a doll.

  He tossed that to the side, then placed a kiss on her sternum. It was so sweet, so gentle, that tears threatened against her eyelids. How was this man possible? She slid her fingertips up over his smooth caramel biceps, a sigh escaping her.

  Dakaric reached behind her and unclasped her bra. He withdrew it slowly, his eyes flashing when her bare breasts were revealed. She’d always considered them boring breasts. Run of the mill, if anything. After he’d looked at them, she crossed her arms over her chest. An automatic response.

  “No, Christina.” He guided her arms back down to her sides. “I want to see every inch of you.”

  She laughed nervously. “Every inch? You don’t need to see some inches…”

  He quieted her with a look, then trailed kisses down through the valley between her breasts, over the swell of her belly, all the way to the edge of her panties. She tensed as his hot breath crested the mound of her pussy. Her thighs trembled as she waited for it, for anything. He had to be doing this on purpose. Just to make her desperate.

  “Please,” she said, her voice sounding like someone else’s. He smiled up at her from between her legs, dragging his lips over the scrap of underwear between her legs.

  “What is it, Christina?” His voice was a low purr.

  She bucked her hips, hoping this would send the message. “I can’t take it anymore, Dakaric.” Her heart hammered between her ears. If he didn’t touch her, she’d combust. “I need you.”

  “Hmmm.” He took a gentle bite of her pussy, his teeth nicking the hard nub of her clit. A shiver wracked her body. “You do?”

  She ran her fingers through his hair, rocking her hips against him. Damn this tease. “Dakarrric.”

  Dakaric pushed aside the scrap of her panties, and his mouth met the eager bud of her clit. She gasped, stilling as he moved his tongue in slow, thorough circles around it. Her grip on his hair tightened, and he moaned from between her legs.

  He licked and prodded her clit until she groaned, and then he slid his tongue inside her. She let out a cry, writhing on the bed beneath him. He pinned her down with his hands as he sucked at the swollen bud. Pleasure churned in her core, a warning. With Dakaric at the helm, she wouldn’t last long.

  He must have sensed it, because he pulled back and ripped her panties off. She lay heaving as he leaned over to the bedside table and fished a condom out of the drawer.

  “Oh, thank god.” She smoothed her hands over his chest as he fumbled with the condom wrapper. A thought occurred to her, making her laugh. “Did you buy those in the village?”

  He shook his head, rolling the latex over his cock. With a grin, he said, “I brought them from Kattahar. A gentleman is always prepared.”

  And then he wiggled himself between her legs, the swollen tip of his cockhead immediately slipping into place in the damp folds of her pussy. She inhaled sharply, clinging to the hard ridge of his shoulders.

  “Go slow,” she whispered. His soft chuckle was both spine-tinglingly sexy and sweet.

  “For as long as I’m able,” he promised, and then he pushed himself inside of her, sinking into her slowly, d
eliciously, just as she’d asked. Stars exploded behind her eyelids as she took the length of him, every cell of her being alive and visceral.

  Dakaric pushed himself all the way inside her, and when he reached the end, he let out a soft groan, as though the effort of restraining himself was too much.

  “You feel so damn good,” he said, his voice raw. He rocked against her once, sending a spasm of pleasure through her. Her legs splayed open further, and she knew. This was what it felt like to connect to someone from head to toe. Every part of her sighed with relief that she’d finally found him—the one.

  The thought thundered through her as he started a slow rhythm. She clung to him, her breasts jiggling as he thrust against her. Was she in love?

  It seemed ridiculous for so short a time. Under the circumstances of travel. Under the circumstances of being his pretend fiancée. It wasn’t at all what she’d planned for herself.

  Dakaric’s lips found her collarbone, left a sweet trail of moisture up the side of her neck. She matched his movements from below, the two of them finding a rhythm that made her head spin. She couldn’t find her voice to tell him that she was close. All she could do was grunt as his thrusts grew more forceful, his abs flexing with the exertion.

  Dakaric sat back, scooping his hands underneath her back so that she straddled him upright. The surprise change in pressure was the final straw; a strangled cry escaped her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, her eyes fluttering shut as the torrential wave of her orgasm built and then spilled over.

  Everything went quiet and buzzing for a moment as she peaked. Dakaric’s movements from below didn’t let up. All she could do was cling for dear life as the warm wave of bliss coated her and made her weak.

  A few moments later Dakaric stilled, his whole body going rigid beneath her. His face fell to the hollow of her neck, and he groaned, his low belly spasming as he came.

  Christina felt like putty in his arms. He stroked her back lazily, their breaths in sync. She never wanted to move. Not from his arms. Not from this place.

  It was a scary thought, but not even half as scary as the truth burbling deep inside her.

  That maybe Kattahar and Al Qalb could be a second sort of home for her, one that she’d never counted on.

  The man wrapped around her had everything to do with it, too.

  13

  Dakaric awoke slowly, his surroundings coming into leisurely focus one at a time: the bite of heat, a familiar accompaniment to waking up in the village. The distant sounds of voices, most likely the villagers haggling nearby. And the weight of Christina at his side, one arm slung over his waist.

  He beamed down at her, dragging his fingertips over her forearm. This was a beautiful way to start the day. No wonder he’d slept so well. The throes of various orgasms made for deep, restful sleep.

  She stirred at his side, those long eyelashes fluttering briefly against her cheeks. But she didn’t wake up, and he didn’t want to rouse her. He just wanted to watch. And count his blessings.

  And figure out how he could convince her to return to Al Qalb and Kattahar frequently.

  Was it so wild to want her to be his actual queen? Marrying had never particularly appealed to him, but something about Christina made him willing to consider it. There were a lot of things about Christina—things that made him horny, things that intrigued him, things that made him want to keep her by his side for a long time.

  And though none of it made sense, he wanted to run with it. See where things led.

  His phone vibrated from the nightstand, and he scrambled to pick it up. It was Zatar. Excitement shuddered through him—he might have news. He answered the phone in a whisper.

  “Hello?”

  “Dakaric. Did I wake you?”

  “No, you didn’t. I just don’t want to disturb Christina.” Dakaric rolled out of bed gently; Christina didn’t seem to notice. He tugged on a pair of shorts and wandered downstairs, intent on preparing a simple breakfast.

  “Well, I have some news. One of my guards found Sabra after we talked yesterday.”

  Dakaric pumped his fist in the air as he entered the kitchen, his bare feet scuffing softly against the tile. He set the phone down and put it on speakerphone. “You’re serious?”

  “Here’s the deal. And this isn’t all good news.”

  Dakaric’s excitement waned. “Okay. Go on.”

  “He found out that Sabra had taken the severance pay from her job here at the palace and moved into the mountains. Apparently she opened an orphanage, living a very modest life, teaching children.”

  Dakaric pulled some jams out of the fridge, arranging them in small dishes on a platter. “That doesn’t surprise me. She was always very kind and helpful with us when we were boys.”

  “Unfortunately, she passed away several months ago. Her things were still up in the mountains, and my guard was able to secure her personal journal. I’ve spent quite some time reading it.” Zatar paused. There was weight in the silence. “You will never guess who Kasha’s father was.”

  Dakaric’s stomach pitched downward and he paused, licking the knife clean of jelly. If Sabra was dead…that meant Christina’s search might truly be in vain. “Who?”

  “My father, Patar.”

  The news thundered through him. Dakaric dropped his knife, and it clattered to the floor. Tirsa poked her head into the kitchen a moment later, concern on her face. He waved her away.

  “Everything okay, friend?” Zatar asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” He retrieved the knife, the news still cycling through him strangely. This was too much news at once—scandal, death, mysteries coming to a close. “Zatar…I can’t believe this.”

  His friend heaved a sad sigh. “Yes, well, I can. I suspected my father cheated on my mother, and here’s the proof.” He let a bitter laugh. “And isn’t it odd that the proof is Christina’s sister?”

  Dakaric gripped the edge of the countertop. Christina would be crushed to know that Sabra had passed. He suddenly dreaded telling her. He didn’t want to be the bearer of such awful news.

  “So what can Christina do now?” He tugged at the top of his hair, struggling to find a solution. Nothing came. “If Sabra is dead, then…”

  “Well, there are some options. Now that we know Kasha’s parentage, we can search for alternate donors,” Zatar said. After a pause, he added, “After all, we are family.”

  Dakaric scrubbed at his jaw as he thought. So at least there was still hope for Christina. Hope that this entire trip wouldn’t be a dead end for her niece.

  “I can’t believe Sabra is gone,” Dakaric said. “She was good to us. May she rest in peace.”

  Zatar murmured the same words, and then said, “I’ll call as soon as I have more information. It should be soon.”

  Dakaric hung up the phone, letting the strange echoes of the conversation hang in the still air of the kitchen. He stared at the plate he’d started and then abandoned halfway through the conversation.

  He desperately wanted good news for Christina. And if this whole thing was going to end poorly, then he wanted some time to figure out how to tell her.

  It seemed wrong to tell her this news without the entire picture. The outcomes were extreme: either extreme hope, or dejection. He didn’t want to inspire either until he had all the news.

  So he wouldn’t tell her. Not yet. If Zatar seemed confident that he would have more news soon, then it was better to wait. He grabbed a few pastries from the fridge and set them on the plate, heading back upstairs to the bedroom.

  If anything, he wanted to spend just a little more time with Christina, suspended in the dreamy embrace of their amazing night together. Ruining it with bad news that might turn out to be good in the end wasn’t how he wanted to end their stolen time together.

  When Dakaric pushed into the bedroom, Christina was stretching and yawning, and her bright eyes turned to him.

  “Morning, my sweet.” He set the platter down on the bedside table and pres
sed a kiss to her forehead. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes. But I’m sore.” She laughed throatily, her voice still raw from sleep. “I think you had something to do with that.”

  “I will definitely take the blame for that,” he said, picking up a pastry. He offered it to her with a smile. “Now can I convince you to eat and get dressed? I don’t want to release you back to Kattahar quite yet. In fact, I think you should stay here for at least one more day.”

  She pushed up onto her elbow, the light sheet falling away to reveal one tantalizingly round breast. He tweaked her nipple as she bit into the fluffy bread, and she giggled.

  “One more day,” she said as she chewed, pointing a stern finger at him. “But that’s it.”

  14

  Christina hummed with excitement as she assessed her meager clothing options. She’d brought almost nothing to Al Qalb, and the majority of that was practical options, since she’d come intending to help out. But when Dakaric insisted they have one last day together, how could she say no? She wanted to dress as cute as her meager offerings would allow her.

  Dakaric popped his head in the bedroom, adjusting the simple taupe tunic he’d opted for. “I’ll be back within a half hour. I’m going to make my rounds and say hello to the villagers.”

  She nodded, grinning over at him. He looked sexy in his traditional clothes. He looked sexy in nothing. He looked sexy all the time. “’Kay. I’ll be here. Dressed. Or not.”

  He lifted a brow, then blew her a kiss before disappearing down the hallway. She heard his soft footsteps grow fainter until finally the front door shut. She was bathed in silence. She flopped back onto the bed and sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

  Leaving the next day felt wrong, somehow. But she had to get back to Kattahar. This little jaunt with Dakaric had been perfect, but it couldn’t last forever.

  Even though she wanted it to.

  After a few more minutes of wandering thoughts, she pushed herself up and selected a damn outfit. A long, gray sundress, which would pair nicely with her light green shawl. She headed downstairs to pack some snacks in the kitchen, humming a Katy Perry song loudly in the empty inn.