Malik: Desert Sheikh Romance

by Marian Tee

  “My tie?” he echoed blankly.

  “It made me think of really weird things.” And again, her whispered words were ridden with guilt. “Things that a s-sister---” Her voice came to a choking stop. “A sister should never think of her brother.”

  Ah.

  Their eyes collided, hers still wet with tears that flowed endlessly down her face, while his---

  Kyria’s lips parted in bemusement, and her heart started to ache and race at the same time.

  Why?

  Why was it---

  Why was he looking at her like he wanted…to do the same weird things with her?

  “Kyria.” The sheikh’s tone was grave and hoarse, and the light in his beautiful dark eyes glittered like diamonds wrapped in midnight.

  “Come here.”

  Said the flame to the moth, lion to the lamb, Kyria thought hysterically. And now, it was Malik to Kyria---

  But even knowing this, she found herself taking that one small step---

  Her feet crossed the doorway of her bedroom, and his arms closed about her.

  He had hugged her earlier, but this…was different.

  This was…a man’s embrace.

  Her body stiffened with shock, but instead of letting her go, the sheikh only pulled her closer, every inch of his hardness now pressed against every soft, pliant curve of her body.

  Fire engulfed her senses, and she squeezed her shut, her body trembling at the sheer effort she had to expend to swallow back the whimpers that filled her throat.

  “You know those weird things you’re talking about…” His lips touched her hair, just a few inches above her ears. “They have another name.”

  His mouth moved down, and even as she started to tremble, and her fingers started to curl into fists against his chest---

  His mouth continued to move, all the way down, until it reached her ear, and Kyria could no longer hold back---

  “It’s called sexual attraction.”

  A whimper escaped her lips.

  “And I feel it, too.”

  Her fingers, which should have pushed him away, clutched his shirt instead.

  “I’ve felt it far longer than I should.”

  Moonlight glided into the room from below the billowing curtains, its silver light softening the harsh perfection of the sheikh’s face. He was lying on his side, fully clothed, head propped up by his arm while he played idly with the short, loose strands of her hair.

  Kyria, too, lay on her side facing him, her wide-eyed gaze resting on his. She was freshly showered, her body now sheathed in a cotton nightdress but hidden under covers that she had pulled all the way up to her neck.

  The sight was a strange mix of adorable and poignant, and the sheikh said solemnly, “You look like you’re scared I’m about to eat you.”

  Her cheeks turned rosy with color. “Malik!” Her tone was faintly chiding but mostly breathless, and her cheeks turned redder when the sheikh smirked. “S-stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know I’m not used to hearing you say such words.”

  “Yes, I do know.” His lips twitched. “But do you really think that’s going to stop me?” He expected her to make a face or something similar to express her chagrin, but instead Kyria directed a look at him that could only be described as shy and uncertain, and Malik frowned. “What is it?”

  “Do you…” She swallowed hard. “Do you really like me that way?”

  “Yes.” His voice was grave. “I do really like you that way.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Kyria’s lips at the way he repeated her every word, but even so she insisted, “I’m being serious.”

  “As I am.” And he tugged the locks of her hair with each word for emphasis.

  “Honest?”

  It was the sheikh’s turn to roll his eyes. “Why do you find it so hard to believe?”

  “How can I not?” She was just as incredulous as he was. “You’re Malik Al-Atassi! You can have any woman.”

  “And so can you,” Malik retorted. “You can have any man---”

  “No, I can’t.” Kyria’s tone was faintly exasperated. He was always, always like this. He always made it seem like she was the most beautiful girl on the planet, even though they both knew she was not. She was plain, really, and in the times he had forbidden her to attend occasions where she might ‘attract the wrong sort of men’, Kyria herself would point this out. I know I’m not ugly, but I’m no beauty either. I won’t attract any sort of men!

  And every time, Malik would only look at her like she was crazy for thinking so---

  Just as he was doing now, Kyria thought helplessly.

  “Malik…look at me.”

  “I am.”

  “Really look at me,” she insisted.

  Malik’s gaze became perplexed. “I have been looking at you for almost half of my life, Ky.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, but Kyria steadfastly refused to let his words get to her head. “I’m not beautiful. I’m not even talented like Harper. I’m just ordinary, so how can you like someone like me?”

  Malik frowned. “Why do you keep saying these things? You are beautiful.” And the way he was looking at her, she could almost, almost believe it herself. “And more than that, you’re perfect.”

  “Oh, Malik.” She could see it in his eyes. He meant every word. But how could he? “What if---” She swallowed past a lump on her throat, whispering, “What if you were just used to having me around and---ah!”

  In a blink of an eye, the sheikh had rolled her to her back, and he was suddenly above her, the weight of his body bearing down on hers.

  “If anyone has reason to be worried about this not being what it is,” the sheikh said broodingly, “it should be me.”

  “Why?” Kyria was genuinely confused.

  “Because you’re young,” he said grimly. “You’ve barely started your life, and there’s every chance you could still meet someone else---” But Kyria was already shaking her head even before he finished speaking, and the sheikh’s words broke off.

  “Do you think I didn’t try?” she whispered. “It was one of my most important goals in the past two years, Malik. But just the thought alone of going out on a date with another guy made my skin crawl---” She stopped speaking when she saw his eyes squeeze shut at her words. “Malik?” Her tone was quietly anxious. “What is it?” Had she said something wrong?

  Malik lowered his head to her shoulder. He had always wondered if she had ever been attracted to any other man, had always wondered how he would feel if he learned that there was someone else. And now she was telling her there wasn’t a single fucking one---

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” he said roughly.

  Oh, she knew it! She had said something wrong, and she wondered dismally if telling the sheikh about how she felt about other men had made him feel guilty or pressured. Raising a trembling hand, Kyria threaded his fingers through his silky hair, whispering, “I’m sorry, Malik.”

  “As I am.” His head lifted. “Because I had promised myself to give you time and space…”

  Her eyes flew wide open at the savage look in his eyes. That was definitely not the look of a man who was guilty or pressured. Rather, that was the look of a man who wanted…her.

  “I wanted to give you a chance to think this through,” Malik growled. “But after what you said---” The sheikh gripped her by the hair. “Fuck that.”

  His mouth covered hers.

  And the weird things that she used to have fantasies and nightmares about…became reality.

  Her eyelids swept closed.

  Their first kiss.

  His lips prodded hers to open, and her arms went up to wrap around his neck just as his tongue slid inside her mouth.

  “Kyria.” Her name on his lips was a rough rasp, but it was also the most sweetly arousing sound, and she found herself arching against him with a moan.

  “Aira.” Fuck.

  The kiss dee
pened, and he began sucking on her tongue hard. She gasped for breath, but he only let up for the last second, leaving her to stare up at him dazedly while the erotic sound of their panting filled his room.

  “More?” he asked hoarsely.

  Oh.

  Her heart ached when she realized that he was deliberately controlling himself, fearful of frightening or overwhelming her.

  She gave him a small nod.

  “More.”

  And his mouth went back to hers, the kiss even rougher and hungrier this time, and her body began to writhe under his. Her nails raked his back, her legs snaking restlessly against his muscular thighs.

  “More.”

  His hands slid between their bodies, his fingers swiftly reaching for the hem of her nightdress before whipping it out of the way.

  “More.” The word coming out a whimper just as he found the front clasp of her bra---

  “More.” She found herself begging him, desire shredding her inhibitions into pieces until all she could do was breathe and pant for his touch.

  Her bra fell to the floor, followed by her panties, but before her passion-clouded mind could take in her sudden nakedness, his mouth had latched on to her nipple and thinking once again became an impossible feat.

  Her fingers clutched his shoulders as he squeezed her breasts while suckling harder on her nipples.

  Her head fell back.

  His mouth moved down.

  “Malik…”

  And this time, she no longer cared whether the name she was calling out belonged to a man who was her brother in other people’s eyes.

  “Malik…”

  His mouth found that tiny sensitive flesh hidden under her folds.

  And once again, he began to suck.

  Her body arched.

  “Malik!” A scream. “Oh, Malik.” A shuddering moan. “More.” And lastly, a choked whimper as his mouth destroyed her from below, and her body began to thrash in wild abandon. Orgasm struck like a tidal wave, and all she could do was moan and hold on to him as pleasure threatened to sweep her away.

  Later, much, much later, Kyria was only drowsily aware as Malik lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the tub. He washed her with such brisk but gentle efficiency that it was already over before she had enough functioning brain cells to feel embarrassed about the entire process.

  When they returned to the bedroom, her last thought was that it wasn’t her room that they had returned to but theirs. She wanted to protest. She tried to protest. But then Malik was kissing her so expertly, and the timbre of his voice so wonderfully soothing as he told her to sleep…

  Her eyelids drifted shut.

  Tomorrow, Kyria thought sleepily. Tomorrow was soon enough for them to talk, and she would tell him that they should take things slowly.

  Tomorrow.

  But when tomorrow came, the exact opposite happened.

  Kyria stirred into consciousness as the steady sound of knocking slowly penetrated her mind. She stretched and twisted in her bed, thinking that it felt a lot bigger---

  Oh!

  She shot up to a sitting position, and her worst fears were confirmed. She was still in the sheikh’s bedroom, and someone was knocking on the door---

  “Good. You’re awake.” Malik came out of the en-suite shower, a white towel wrapped low on his hips, droplets of water still dripping from his hair and down to his glistening body.

  Her throat dried at the sight, and the sheikh stopped walking when he saw Kyria staring.

  Beautiful.

  It was the only word Kyria could think of. Every inch of Malik Al-Atassi was beautiful.

  The gleaming ebony shade of his hair, the exotic darkness of his eyes, the chiseled perfection of his face---

  Beautiful.

  All the way down to the imposing breadth of his shoulders, the muscular expanse of his chest, and his ripped abs---

  Beautiful.

  And then there was that prominent and distinctly growing bulge under his towel---

  Oh!

  The sight of his arousal shocked her back into reality, and her gaze flew up to him. “Malik.” Her tone was faint. “Your---” She couldn’t make herself say the words and simply waved in the area of his arousal.

  But the sheikh only smirked when he saw what she was gesturing at. “My what?”

  “Malik, be serious---” Another polite rap on the door interrupted her, and she turned white at the sound. “There’s someone at the door.”

  “As there should be,” he said complacently. “I ordered breakfast for the two of us.”

  “What?” Kyria was aghast.

  He raised a brow. “Don’t you want to have breakfast with me?”

  “Of course I do, but---” She threw him a helpless look. “Should I hide then?”

  “Why should you?” The sheikh then crossed the remaining length of the room, and Kyria found herself holding her breath. Her senses swam, further and further away from her, that by the time he reached her, she was lost.

  Nothing else mattered except…him.

  Her sheikh.

  Malik.

  He sat on the edge, and the bed dipped under his weight. Her body swayed at the movement of the bed, and she suddenly felt herself pressed against his hot, wet skin.

  Kyria bit back a cry.

  His fingers cupped her chin. “What do you want me to do, Ky?” His hand moved, fingers threading through the sleep-tousled locks of her hair. “Do I hide you…or do I let the world know you’re mine?”

  Ooooh.

  “I only want to take it slow,” she confessed haltingly, “for your sake.”

  The sheikh’s lips curved in a smile. “Is that so?”

  She nodded.

  “And if I say I don’t want to take it slow at all because it’s all I’ve been doing for the past four years?”

  A gasp escaped her.

  “What then?” The sheikh’s voice became taut. “Do we still take it slow?” His fingers moved down to curve around her nape. “You should know by now, Ky.” And his head started inching closer, and her heart started thudding harder against her chest.

  “I will only always do what you want.”

  She gulped. Oh no, oh dear heavens, no…

  “So tell me…”

  His eyes captured hers, and the look in the sheikh’s eyes told her exactly what he wanted.

  Kiss her. Touch her. Fuck her.

  “What do you want?”

  Him, she thought dizzily. She wanted him.

  But because that look in his eyes was too much, and all of this was still new---

  KICK.

  The sheikh grunted as he fell to the carpet, completely taken by surprise by Kyria’s reaction.

  A horrified moan escaped her.

  She had just kicked the sheikh out of his own bed.

  To raise a hand against any member of the royal family was punishable by death, but more than that, it was the most shameful of all offenses for any person who considered himself loyal to the kingdom.

  Kyria jumped off the bed and sank to her knees, head down. “I’m so sorry!” This was the end. She just knew it. She had hung up on him, slammed the door on him, slapped him, and now she had actually kicked him!

  And yet…

  Her head lifted at the strange, puzzling sound of the sheikh’s laughter, and Kyria was even more bemused when she saw Malik rising to his feet, a grin on his handsome face. Had she…kicked him so hard he had lost his mind?

  He took her hand. “Up you go, milady…”

  Kyria allowed the sheikh to pull her up to her feet. “You’re n-not mad?”

  He shook his head. “Never with you.” His tone was gentle. “Remember?”

  Her eyes teared. “Even though I kicked you?”

  “Even then.”

  “And I slapped you and slammed the door on your face---”

  Wincing, he cut her off hastily, saying, “No matter what you do.” And while he did mean that, Malik would rather not have Kyria list h
er transgressions. If she did, it only made things seem more impossible between them, and he would rather not think about that.

  Right now, and after all those goddamn years of holding himself back---

  Kyria impulsively threw herself at him. “Oh, Malik.” And again, her voice was muffled with her face pressed to his shoulder. She was never the impulsively affectionate type with anyone, and even with Altair and Vanna, the smallest part of her had always held herself back, in the event that either of them would realize they didn’t actually love her---

  But Malik was different.

  With Malik, she had always been sure.

  He would always love her, would never leave her.

  She had known that even as a child, and now it made Kyria wonder…if even then she had known---

  “Malik.”

  His whispered name, underlined by worry and uncertainty, made the sheikh pull back so he could look into her eyes.

  “If I tell you,” she said unevenly, “that I might have unconsciously known, even as a child, you could never be just a brother to me…” She swallowed hard. “Would you think I’m crazy?”

  He slowly shook his head.

  “Why?”

  “Because it was the same for me,” he said simply.

  Oh. Kyria laid her face against his chest again and hugged him tightly. “I’m happy. Really happy, but is it bad that a part of me feels like it’s waiting for me to wake up and realize it’s all a dream?”

  “It’s not bad. Rather, it’s entirely natural.”

  “Is it?” She began rubbing her face unconsciously against his chest like a kitten.

  “It is.” He wondered tautly if she realized that other parts of her anatomy were starting to rub against his body as well.

  “I just wish…” Her body stilled, and the sheikh was torn between relief and disappointment when all of her rubbing parts came to a stop as well.

  She looked up at him, her eyes innocently questioning. “Do you think there’s something that I could do to make this feel…”

  “More real?”

  Kyria nodded.

  His lips slowly curved.

  Uh oh.

  “As a matter of fact, anisdi---”

  That smile of his was positively devilish, and she gulped. “Umm---”

  “I know exactly what we can do.”

  Alarm bells started to ring inside of her head. “I don’t think---”