Uncorked for the Sheikh: A Royal Billionaire Romance Novel (Curves for Sheikhs Series Book 14)

by Annabelle Winters

  What if he said yes?!

  5

  “Yes.”

  The Sheikh nodded at his assistant Laila, who bowed her head while glancing at Nat. Zameer had just told Laila to shut down the Washington office of Al-Ladaak Investments until his minister of finance sent over a replacement for Siddiqui. Laila had nodded and agreed, but the Sheikh did not like the way she’d looked at Nat. For a moment he regretted indulging himself in what Laila offered him just before this American woman in her peach pantsuit walked through his door, walked into his life, got his cock straight and hard while sending his mind into a tailspin.

  And Zameer was spinning, no doubt. Had this woman seriously had the nerve to ask him—the head of the Royal House of Ladaak—to spend a week at a facility that manufactured alcohol?! Did she have any sense at all? Did she have any clue what it would look like to his people? Did she have any . . . filters?

  No filters, came the thought again to the Sheikh as he watched Laila reluctantly leave the room, sticking her ass out and swinging it as she left, half-turning and glancing back at him just before closing the door. Yes, this American woman has no filters. She just speaks her mind, says what she wants, perhaps even does what she wants. And by Allah, she makes me want to do what I want!

  Zameer glanced over at Nat, who’d just taken a seat on the smooth leather sofa at the far end of the room. She looked relaxed. Or perhaps she was in shock. Perhaps she was both relaxed and in shock!

  “Are you all right?” he asked, taking a step toward her and stopping when he realized he had gotten hard without realizing it, and the bulge at the front of his trousers was too big to be missed.

  “Are you?” she shot back, glancing at his cock and then into his eyes, her face instantly turning bright red until she blinked and looked down at the floor. “Oh, God, I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry! I always make totally inappropriate jokes when I’m nervous!”

  The Sheikh grabbed a manila file folder from the desk and covered his erection, shrugging and smiling wide. “Sexual humor is never inappropriate in my presence. But there we go. I will cover my indecency. Is that better now.”

  Nat smiled and shrugged back at him. “I wasn’t complaining. I was just checking to make sure you didn’t need to sit down, what with all that blood rushing from your head down to your—”

  “Cork,” said the Sheikh, grinning mischievously as he openly glanced at Nat’s cleavage from his vantage point above her. “Where do you get your cork?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “For the wine bottles. It has been a while since I opened a bottle of wine, but they still come with corks, yes?”

  Nat laughed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “Yes, they do come with corrrrks! Though I personally don’t have a problem with the screw-top bottles these days. Don’t tell any of my customers I said that, though. I need to pretend I’m as much of a wine-snob as they are.”

  The Sheikh grunted, tossing the folder aside because that joke was done and he really didn’t give a damn about the obstinate peak at the front of his trousers. Though it was a bit confusing, because he didn’t feel the urgency to rip her clothes off, flip her around, and take her hard and fast, blowing his load. Perhaps it was because he’d already had sex a couple of times today, but he didn’t think it was that. There was something about interacting with this woman that was taking him to a slow-building level of excitement that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. Ya Allah, he was getting aroused just being around her, just talking to her, joking, playing, teasing, pushing, pulling. It was exhilarating, he realized, because with that brief bit of sexual humor, it felt like an invisible barrier between them had suddenly come down.

  No filters, he thought for the third time. This woman has no filters, and so any interaction with her can have no filters. She has clearly told me she wants to buy this winery. She has invited me to visit it for a week in an effort to convince me not to shut it down. And it is clear she knows that I am a man with needs, and that I am attracted to her. All the cards have been laid face-up on the table. The scenario is set, and so let the game begin.

  Of course, the game has already begun, the Sheikh thought. His face went tight for a moment, a shudder passing through him as he remembered the oath he’d taken when he passed a complete ban on alcohol in Ladaak. For almost fifty years it was legal for international hotels in Ladaak to serve alcohol in their bars and restaurants. It was also legal for foreign citizens to bring alcohol into the country and consume it in private residences or hotel rooms. But after Zameer took his oath, he changed the laws. Two of the hotels had complained, saying it hurt their revenues and in the long run would hurt tourism, but the Sheikh did not give a damn. He’d snapped his fingers and told the hotels that their licenses to operate in Ladaak were terminated, their leases revoked, and they should call their American and European managers and arrange for all the furniture and fixtures to be removed from every room within a month or else it would end up on the streets. No other hotel dared complain about a thing after that.

  “Screw-top bottles for fine wine? A travesty!” said the Sheikh, grinning as he brought his attention back to the present, back to this woman. It was surprisingly easy to bring his attention back to her, he thought. “And for the record, I do not believe you are capable of pretending to be anything you are not.”

  Color flashed on her cheeks, and the Sheikh could see Nat was shaken by his statement. He’d made it casually, though he was certain it was true. Still, she did not believe it was true, and he could see it all over her face, the way she shifted on her seat, the moment of self-doubt and insecurity communicated so clearly that the Sheikh almost laughed and pointed out that even when she was silent, her body revealed the truth. Ya Allah, even her body did not have any filters!

  “You have no idea,” she said softly, touching her hair and swallowing as she looked up at him. “You know nothing about me.”

  The Sheikh snorted. “I know very few facts about you, yes. But everything else is laid bare for me to see.”

  “Hah!” she said, her eyes going wide, her mouth hanging open as she laughed. “All right then. What do you see?”

  Zameer shrugged. “I see a woman who knows what she wants and is not afraid to ask for it. I see a woman who does not have the patience to lie or scheme or pretend, even though she believes that she does. I see a woman who is not threatened by my power, my wealth, or the fact that I am clearly aroused by her.” He paused when he saw her breath catch, her eyelids flutter, her body go tight. He took a step closer as he felt his own body tighten, his cock stiffen, his blood pump through his veins as he felt his head spin again from what he’d just realized he was going to do.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered as he stopped in front of her, his pants obscenely peaked at the front. “Oh, God, what are you doing?”

  The Sheikh reached down and touched her face gently, caressing her cheek as he felt her shudder. Slowly he moved his hand around to the back of her neck, pulling at her long brown tresses from the roots, gently at first until he grasped her by the hair and looked deep into her eyes.

  “I am making it clear that sleeping with me is not going to get this deal done,” he whispered as he leaned in. “Whatever happens or does not happen between us during our week together will have no influence on my decision about your winery.”

  “I . . . I don’t understand,” she muttered, her eyelids fluttering but her gaze locked in on his.

  “I mean I am going to sleep with you because I want to, and for no other reason,” said the Sheikh, leaning closer as he picked up her feminine scent and breathed deep. Now he knew he wasn’t going to stop, that he was going to take her, that he was going to spend that week with her. Perhaps he was playing into her hands, he thought as he took another breath and got so close to her lips he could almost taste them. Yes, perhaps he was wrong, and she was a liar, a schemer, a trickster who had him by the ba
lls before he even knew it. But it was too late, he decided. He was going in. No woman had managed to use her sexuality to trap, manipulate, or influence the Sheikh before, and if that was her plan, it wasn’t going to work.

  He could feel her warm breath against his lips as he held her tight by the hair. She was looking into his eyes, and he could tell from the way her body was tensed that she was somewhere between pulling away and leaning in, somewhere between kissing him and bringing her knee up into his crotch and running for the door.

  No filters, he reminded himself. Her body has no filters either, and so she is not certain if she is playing a game or not, not certain if she wants to play the game or not. And that means she is aroused as well, attracted to me just like I am to her.

  “Do you understand?” he whispered, letting the arousal course through every muscle in his body as he held his lips less than an inch from hers, still looking into her eyes. “Sleeping with me will have no influence on the deal. Alcohol is a non-starter for me. No matter what happens on my visit to your winery, it will be shut down like I said.”

  She raised an eyebrow, and the Sheikh felt her relax under his grip. “So the answer is yes? You’re going to spend a week at the winery and see what I do?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  The Sheikh just stared at her for a long moment. Then he released her and pulled back, laughing out loud and shaking his head as he realized she’d got him—she’d gotten him to agree to her demand without him even realizing it! “Ya Allah, woman!” he shouted, clapping his hands and laughing again. “All right. Yes. I suppose I have agreed.” He shook his head and glanced down at her, smiling and narrowing his eyes. “You know, it has been a while since I have met a woman who refused to sleep with me. Especially a woman who wants something from me.”

  He watched as her chest moved from the deep breath she took. Then he felt his cock stiffen again when he saw the way she looked up at him, her brown eyes clear and focused. “Who says I refused?” she whispered, a tremble in her voice as the color rushed to her round cheeks again.

  The Sheikh stood frozen for a moment, wondering if this woman was spinning a web around him. He’d had her in his grasp and then pulled back. Now she was pulling him in, and a part of him warned that he should kick her out of his office, out of his life, that this woman could get to him in a way none of the others ever did.

  “You are . . . surprising,” the Sheikh said, still frozen in the same spot, for the first time in his life not sure if he should follow his cock and give in to the way his body yearned for hers. It had always been so simple with the others. But this one could get complicated. Very complicated.

  “And just so we’re clear,” she said. “I am only saying that because—”

  But she didn’t finish the sentence because the Sheikh was on her before Nat had a chance. He grabbed her by the back of her neck, pulled her upright, slammed her body against his and kissed her hard on the lips. She gasped and pulled back, and he kissed her again. Again and again. He kissed her hard, with authority, and once he tasted her lips he knew he didn’t give a damn about her intentions, about whether or not she was playing him. He just knew he wanted her, and he was going to take her.

  6

  Nat had no idea how she’d have finished that sentence, but it didn’t matter because she was kissing him back, opening her mouth and letting him push his tongue inside, letting him taste her, letting him have her.

  Not again, she thought as a chill passed through her. It had been almost three years since she’d made love to a man—a real man, not Vic the Vibrator. Three years since she’d made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t sleep with a guy unless she was already in a relationship with him, until she was already in love, until she was . . . ready. Her life had been full of one-night stands and booty-calls, drunken interludes and walks of shame, and she’d promised herself she deserved better. But now she was kissing a man she’d met less than an hour ago. A man who was a king in some faraway land, who clearly filled his own life with one-night stands and booty-calls.

  So which one am I going to be, she wondered as she felt a sickness rise up in her even as she felt the Sheikh grab her bottom and press hard, making her gasp at his strength. One-night stand or booty call?

  “Zameer,” she said, suddenly pulling back from the kiss even as she felt his erection press against her mound as he held her close. He smelled so good, she thought as she took a breath. A subtle, masculine hint of green sage and red spice mixing with his natural scent in the most erotic way. She was wet, ready, and God she wanted him. But she’d promised herself. She promised herself she wasn’t going to be a slut anymore, that she’d had her fun and games, lived out her wild days, that she’d hit her thirties and it was time to get serious—about herself, her relationships, her career.

  But here you are about to fuck a guy who’s got complete power over what you want for your career. He’s already said he won’t give in on this alcohol issue, no matter what. But at the same time, he’s agreed to spend a week with you at the winery! So what’s his game? A week-long romp in rural Virginia with a fat-assed American slut and then back to his harem of Lailas?

  Nat’s head spun as she turned her face away from him so his next kiss landed on her cheek. His hands were still on her ass, and suddenly she hated him for it, hated herself for it, hated everything and everyone.

  “OK stop,” she said, pushing against his chest as the Sheikh squeezed her asscheeks again and leaned in for another kiss. “Please. Just stop. I’m sorry. I can’t—”

  Zameer tilted his head back and looked down on her, but he didn’t let go. “So you are refusing me now?” he growled.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, pushing against his hard chest again, not daring to look him in the eyes. “I shouldn’t have made that joke earlier. I shouldn’t have—”

  Suddenly the Sheikh let go, stepping back and shaking his head. “Fine,” he said firmly, his green eyes narrowing as he looked down at her. “Go. You are free to leave. I will not stop you.”

  Nat stared up at the Sheikh, a strange mix of both warmth and coldness passing through her. A part of her wanted his hands on her again, his body pressed against hers, his erection rubbing against her mound. But Nat had been trying to kill that part of her for three years now, the part which had made her spread her thighs for too many guys in the past. So why did it feel like that part of her was more alive than ever? Was she born to be a slut, forever sleeping with guys she barely knew? Or was she just turned around by what was happening here?

  And what is happening here, she wondered as she nodded and pushed her brown tresses away from her face, blinking as she glanced down at herself and straightened her blouse and jacket. Is he playing me? Testing me? Teasing me? Did he decide I’m not attractive after all? Too white for him? Too fat for him? Too easy for him? Is he even going to show up at the winery? Do I even want him to show up there? Hell, he’s already said there’s no way he can compromise on this alcohol issue, so what’s the goddamn point of going through the stress of having him out there. Especially now that I’ve made a fool of myself by teasing him and then telling him to stop.

  There’s no way he’s going to show up at the winery, she decided as she turned from the Sheikh and gathered the pages of her presentation from the carpeted floor where he’d tossed them after barely glancing at the carefully crafted slides she’d put together with Peggy’s help. He just said that because he wanted to fuck me, and now that I’ve backed out, he’s gonna disappear.

  Perhaps I should just fuck him, Nat thought as a perverse, almost hopeless feeling washed over her. The way it stands now, I’m gonna lose everything anyway. This guy seems serious about the alcohol thing. And God knows I’m serious as hell about my winery. I want it, plain and simple. Perhaps I should just do it. Whore myself out. I’ve fucked guys for no reason other than I was bored at the time. So what’s the big deal? It’s just sex, right?
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br />   But a part of her whispered that it was a big deal, that he was a big deal, that they were a big deal. Nat frowned as she looked at the Sheikh, still erect, still holding back, standing straight and regal even though he looked almost comical with his hard-on forming a peak at the front of his trousers. What was that part of her that had just made itself known, she wondered as she tucked her presentation beneath her arm and straightened herself as best she could. What was that chill of fear she felt when she looked at him, that spark of heat that blazed through her when their eyes met, that bolt of electricity that passed through her when they kissed? Would it be just sex if they did it? Could there be something more here? Nat had fucked enough guys to know the difference between when there was a connection and when it was “just the sex, Ma’am,” and this was different. Different from all the others.

  Give me a sign, she thought as she felt herself take a step toward the Sheikh. The universe, God, goddesses, whoever—just give me a fucking sign of what to do next!

  Nat took another step toward the Sheikh, and she saw his expression change, his jaw tighten, his muscular frame go taut as he turned and faced her head-on, the bulge at the front of his trousers getting more pronounced as his piercing gaze scanned her head to toe and then locked in on her eyes. If she took another step he wasn’t going to stop, she realized. She could tell from his expression that he wasn’t going to stop. Should she do it? Did it make her a whore if she did? Did it matter? Oh, God, to hell with it. The truth was she wanted to do it, right? So what the hell. Just do it. Just go ahead and—

  “Sheikh Zameer, there is an urgent phone call for you,” came the voice from her left, and both the Sheikh and Nat turned at the same time. It was Laila the assistant, and she was standing in the doorway, her light brown face red and peaked as she glanced at Nat and then fixed her sand-colored eyes on the Sheikh.