The Sheikh's Christmas Wish

by Clare Connelly

  They whispered something else, too.

  Tell her everything. You must be honest.

  And he would be, one day. When she knew him well enough to know that his addiction was something so far in his past that he was not at risk of relapsing. Only then.

  “I feel like I’ve known you all my life,” she whispered as her hands braced on his chest. He let her push him backwards, falling to the mattress and she straddled his hips. Her fingers worked at his buttons, releasing his shirt. She dipped her head forward pressing kisses against his washboard abdominals. He groaned as desperate need stretched through him, making his world tip off its axis. “How is it possible that it’s only been a few weeks.”

  He understood what she meant. He felt it too. “Fate,” he said, capturing her cheeks and pulling her face to his so that he could kiss her. She pressed her body to his, her breasts soft through the fabric of her sweater. His fingers dropped to the waistband and he pushed it up, lifting it over her head and discarding it off the foot of the bed. It fell with a quiet swish.

  Tell her everything. You must be honest.

  With a sound of frustration, he lifted up, tipping her backwards onto the bed. He pulled at her jeans, pushing them down her leg with a fierce need to possess her. His fingers circled her breasts, teasing them, tormenting them, pulling at her nipples until she cried out, her voice muffled by necessity.

  He brought his mouth to her breasts, and he felt her body shivering beneath him.

  “You are so beautiful.” He dropped kisses along her décolletage, then lower, down her flat belly, to the apex of her thighs. The moment his tongue connected with her womanhood, she bucked her hips and began to spiral completely out of control. He pushed a finger inside of her, stroking her fast, feeling her most sensitive flesh until she skyrocketed into the heavens, her quiet moans a sign that she had lost control completely. And then he moved over her, sheathing himself in latex before striking inside of her in one swift movement. She cried out again, quietly, always quietly, but with the intensity of a thousand decibel scream.

  Pleasure vibrated through Melinda. She was at breaking point. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as he made pleasure that was already threatening to tear her apart swell through her body.

  “I’ve missed this,” she whispered, lacing her fingers through his and pulling them wide.

  He moved quickly now and with each stroke she lost a little more of herself, until together they were climbing into the sky, dancing amongst the stars, lost in a galaxy that was just his and hers; all them.

  Their breathing was loud; a combined sound of rasping, tormented delight. He held her tight, rolling her to his chest so that she could hear his strong heart’s beat. And he hoped she understood it. That she understood him.

  Her fingers traced invisible patterns across his naked torso. His eyes felt heavy, yet his mind was energised.

  “I think …” she spoke softly, cautiously.

  “Yes?” He shifted a little, unwilling to break their connection but needing to look into her eyes, to read the truth of emotions there.

  “I think we should still try to stick to some ground rules,” she said slowly. “For Jordan’s sake.”

  He nodded, understanding why her instinct would be to protect her son. “I agree. What would make you comfortable?”

  “Well,” she murmured, biting down on her lip. “I don’t think we should tell him about us. Not unless … until …”

  “I understand,” he saved her from having to complete the sentence.

  “I mean, I still can’t see how this will be more than temporary, and I don’t see that anything’s served by getting him to fall in love with you, only for him to then have to get used to life without you.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair, marvelling at its softness. “What if I don’t go anywhere?”

  Her smile was lopsided. “You will.”

  “Why are you so certain?”

  “Because. You’re born to rule a country.”

  “My brother is Sheikh.”

  “Yes. But that doesn’t change the fact that you spent your life learning to be a ruler.” A frown formed on her features. He ached to wipe it away. “This is … different for you. It’s a novelty. But I can’t see how that won’t fade.”

  “You have so little faith in your appeal?”

  “To a man like you? Absolutely.”

  He propped up on one elbow. “You are the most captivating woman I have ever known. And believe me, I have known many.”

  “Gee, thanks,” she muttered.

  His laugh was soft. “I am saying that no woman I have been with before can compare to you. You are unique. Beautiful inside and out.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, wishing she could believe it.

  “I am happy to conceal the nature of our relationship from Jordan,” he said thoughtfully. “But not that there is a relationship. I want to see more of you. And him. I want to come here often, not just after nine o’clock at night. I want you to come to my apartment, too.”

  “He’ll know …”

  “He’s five years old,” Ra’if reminded her. “He is not to know that we’re not just very good friends.”

  “That doesn’t solve the problem of him getting attached to you,” she said gently. “And I won’t gamble with his heart like that.”

  Okay. So she didn’t trust him yet. Definitely not enough to tell her the whole sordid truth of his background. “Why don’t you decide day by day?” He said finally, knowing it was her place to control the boundaries as they related to her son. “Just take it as fact that I want to be in your life as much as you are willing to let me.” And just the way he said it, Melinda knew what such consideration cost him. How foreign it must be for a man who had been born as a King to defer to her wishes. And that made her appreciate it all the more.

  Her smile was so bright it shimmered like gold dust. “Okay.”

  “What else?” He prompted.

  “Well,” she thought long and hard, and when she spoke, her words were tinged with shy confession. “We’re not just about sex.”

  His laugh was a rumble. “I am glad to hear you concur.”

  “But I don’t think we should get ahead of ourselves. I think it’s better … I’d feel better … if we just keep things light. This is all really new and Jordan’s isn’t the only heart I don’t want to gamble.”

  She definitely didn’t trust him. Yet.

  And he could work on that.

  “Fine by me,” he smiled encouragingly. “Anything else?”

  Melinda shook her head and sighed. It was confusing and tenuous and new and scary, but maybe – just maybe – everything was going to work out for her, just this once.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I’m starting to think this isn’t fair,” she murmured, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why is that?”

  She studied the board, and their hands of cash and grimaced. “There seems to be a pretty unequitable split of funds, here.”

  “I warned you. I’m a Monopoly fiend.”

  She laughed. “Fiend?”

  “You heard me.” He passed the die across the table, unable to immediately look away. Relaxed on the sprawling shag-pile rug, her hair out, tumbling around her face in golden waves, her eyes sparkling with amusement, the fire casting a warm glow across the room, the moment was as close to perfect as Ra’if had ever known.

  “So when did you get so good, huh?” She rolled the die and then made a sound of mock anger when two single dots appeared. “Two spaces? Watch out, I’m moving fast.”

  She slid her character along the board and made another noise when it brought her squarely into the Police square of the Monopoly board. “Are you kidding me? This is rigged.”

  He grinned. “Not possible, azeezi.”

  “You know, Scrabble is more my speed,” she grumbled, sliding the worn shoe into the prison. “Prison
sucks.”

  “Yes, well.” He lifted his eyes to hers mockingly. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He leaned back against the sofa, stretching his legs out along the floor. “Just that having you … temporarily incarcerated … has some strong appeal.”

  Heat stole into Melinda’s cheeks and she found she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Is that … something you’re into?”

  “I’m into you,” he said softly. “And only you.”

  She swallowed, but images were flying through her mind thick and fast. Being tied up by Ra’if, completely subject to his will and command. She felt desire flare deep inside of her, spreading lava through her body. “I’ve never done anything … you know. Kinky.”

  He reached down, searching for her socked foot. “Does it interest you?”

  “I … never really thought about it.”

  He nodded, letting the conversation drop. He could see she was uncomfortable and the last thing Ra’if wanted to do was to push her.

  He rolled the die and moved his player, but when he passed the cubes back to Melinda, she was obviously distracted. She pinned him with her eyes; they were turbulent like a storm-ravaged sky. “Does it interest you?”

  He lifted his hand, trapping hers beneath it. “It was a throwaway comment. That’s all.”

  She nodded jerkily, but after she’d rolled the die and passed them back over to him, she said, “Roll a double six and I’ll give it serious thought.”

  He laughed. “You’re just trying to throw me off my game.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Definitely.” He rolled – a four and a two – and she winked.

  “Pity.”

  “There’s always next time.”

  Melinda nodded, her expression loaded with mock innocence. “If you say so, your Highness.”

  He laughed softly and waited for Melinda to have her turn. She was still in prison, so it passed quickly.

  “You said this is one of your favourite board games?” She prompted after a moment.

  He reached for his tea and sipped it, replacing it on the edge of the coffee table. “Zami and I played it often as children.” His smile was one of nostalgia. “More recently, his wife Olivia and I have lost hours to it.”

  “You get on well with her?”

  He nodded. “Yes; we’re close.”

  “That’s nice,” Melinda murmured sincerely. “I would always have liked to have a sister or a brother. Hearing you speak about Zamir and Olivia makes me a little jealous.”

  “It wasn’t always so harmonious, believe me.”

  “No, but it is now.” A line formed between her brows. “I feel sorry for Jordan, that he’s not going to get that.”

  A lightning bolt flashed inside of Ra’if. He was all ears, suddenly. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, just, you know, that he’s an only child.”

  “You think you won’t have more children?”

  She reached over and took the die, smiling when she rolled two fours. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m young enough, I guess …”

  “You are twenty three years old. You could wait a decade and still be in the prime of childbearing. No?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve spent so long focussing on Jordie, I just can’t really see it happening. But who knows?”

  The conversation left him with an odd ache low in his abdomen. It didn’t lighten with the passage of time. Every roll of the die was bringing them closer to midnight, and he knew from experience that she would need to get home to Tara soon enough.

  “I surrender,” she said after he’d put another hotel on Park Lane, lifting her hands in the air. “You win. You are the undisputed champion.”

  He reclined, watching her. She was so beautiful. But it wasn’t just a superficial beauty. She was elegant and graceful, intelligent and gentle. He could watch her for hours.

  “I have a surprise for you,” she said quietly, crawling across the rug to his side. “I hope you like it.”

  “I suspect I’m going to.”

  She pushed up, straddling him where he sat, bringing her womanhood into aching proximity with his cock. He longed to possess her but it was so late. “What is it?” He murmured, his fingers moving of their own accord to tangle in her hair and bring her head closer to his.

  “Tara’s having Jordan sleepover tonight.”

  Everything inside of Ra’if shifted a little. “Meaning?”

  “Well,” she walked her fingers slowly up his shirt, stopping at the top button. “I thought I could stay over. If that’s okay with you.”

  His smile was broad, his eyes leaving her in little doubt of just how okay with him that plan was. “It will be the first night we’ve spent together,” he said as his fingers dropped to her hips.

  “I’m aware of that.” She kissed his nose, then rubbed her own nose against his, breathing in his potent masculinity. “I’m looking forward to actually sleeping beside you.”

  “Do you think we’ll get much of that done?”

  Only, they did. Between making love and holding one another close, they slept, spooned together, their bodies breathing almost in unison. When Melinda woke, sometime after seven, she stretched in bed before her fingers connected with the hard wall of his chest and she remembered where she was. And who she was with.

  She rolled in bed, propping onto one elbow so that she could see him better. He slept with his mouth open and one arm thrown casually above his head. His lashes were thick and long; they fanned over his cheeks. His naked torso, exposed by the dropped sheet, moved high and low with each breath. She watched the movement, a huge smile spreading over her face.

  I’m falling in love with you.

  He’d said the words to her, and she felt them now.

  How could she not love him?

  He was her knight in shining armour, who’d turned out to be a Prince. He was a fantasy come to life, and he was making her fantasies come true.

  Quietly, she slipped out of bed and grabbed her phone, padding into the lounge room. She wrapped one of the throws around her body and settled on a kitchen bench. She called Tara to see how Jordan had gone over night and was only mildly offended to hear that he’d been a perfect angel and hadn’t asked for mummy once (traitor!).

  She placed the phone down and moved quietly into the kitchen. It was well-stocked, and with a surprisingly healthy array of foods. In fact, it gave the impression of Ra’if having been a health junkie. She pulled out boxes of raw muesli, oats, spelt bread, fresh fruit and organic yoghurt and frowned. Well, so much for making a pancake breakfast.

  “Can I help you, madam?” Melinda turned around and, at the sight of a stranger in the kitchen, screamed for her life. Her heart was hammering and her pulse was firing in all directions. Her temperature had spiked; she felt like her knees might buckle. She looked around for a knife but the best she could find was a large pepper grinder. She armed herself with it, managing to keep hold of the blanket with effort.

  “What the hell is going on?” Ra’if strode through the apartment, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, his eyes quickly scanning Melinda to assure himself she was okay. He summed up the situation quickly enough and let out a laugh of bemusement.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” his Chef Aon was saying with a deferential bow. “I was not aware you had…”

  “It’s fine, Aon. This is Miss Higgins. Melinda, this is the chef I’ve mentioned.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed, discretely placing the pepper on the bench behind her. “I’m sorry,” she said to the chef. “I got a fright.”

  “It was not my intention to scare you,” the chef said, and it was impossible to detect anything from the tone of his voice. He was simply deferential.

  “No, I know.” She smiled weakly. “I thought I was alone.”

  Ra’if took control of the situation, moving to the kitchen and putting a reassuring hand around Melinda’s waist. “Excus
e us,” he dismissed the servant, and Aon left instantly, perhaps glad to have been spared more time in the embarrassing situation.

  The second the door had clicked closed, Melinda turned to face Ra’if.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, the words tripping over themselves. “I didn’t except anyone else to be here.”

  “If I’d known you were staying, I would have made sure my household kept away,” he assured her. “The oversight was mine. I’m sorry he frightened you.”

  “He did nothing but appear,” she contradicted with a grimace. “The poor man. I think I frightened him half to death.”

  “Well, you were wielding that pepper grinder with menacing intent.”

  A smile broke across her face. “I’m pretty deadly with household items. You should see me with a lamp shade.”

  “I’d like that,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around her back, holding her tight. “I’m sorry he intruded on us.”

  “Don’t be.” She lifted her hands to his ridged abdomen, spreading her fingers wide across his broad chest. “I wanted to make us breakfast. You know, you are really healthy.”

  He laughed. “Am I?”

  “If your kitchen’s anything to go by.”

  His eyes locked to hers. “I was raised to appreciate good food.”

  “But granola and fruit?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” He arched a brow enquiringly.

  “Nothing.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead then broke away from her, moving across the kitchen with his lithe gait. He pressed a capsule into the coffee machine and placed a small cup underneath it.

  The aroma of just-pressed coffee filled the open-plan living area. She breathed it in gratefully.

  He placed the coffee down beside her then returned to the machine. “Eating well, staying fit; these are things I neglected for a time in my life.”

  “When you were making bad decisions?” She prompted.

  Guilt stole across his chest. Why was he keeping the truth of his addiction hidden from her? Because of Brent, that was why. If she were any other woman, he would have revealed his story simply as a matter of course, knowing she would be able to put it into perspective. But Melinda had every reason to believe a one-time drug addiction might be a life-time problem.