“Where are we going?”
“The kitchen,” he said. “Obviously.”
She snorted. “Good. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t your bedroom.” She paused, judging just how flat the joke had landed. “You know, because of the rules and all.”
She liked teasing him. It came easily and naturally. Almost as easily and naturally as her attraction for him. She nudged him softly. “This is the part where you laugh.”
He snorted, finally. “Very funny. Making fun of my judicious and very mature approach to an uncomfortable situation.”
She grinned, her stride turning into a sashay. She liked that everything was out in the open now. It made things more fun. “Judicious, maybe. But mature would be sucking out every last ounce of fun before time’s up.”
The words had popped out of her mouth before she could think better of it, and the second they floated in the air between them, she cringed. That had been stupid.
“And for what? So we can both be miserable once you fly back to the United States?”
His words sliced through the air, but all she could hear was I’m falling for you. Maybe that was reading too much into it—or maybe that’s just what she was thinking herself.
Because the only way messing around could make them miserable was if they fell for each other. Was that his concern?
“We wouldn’t be miserable. We’d be satisfied.”
“Among other things.”
They arrived at the double doors of the kitchen. Sondra pushed through, holding the door open for Robel. Inside, the scent of garlic assaulted her in the best way possible. Back against the far wall, Chef Ana mixed something in a bowl while Noel bent over the countertop, studying some papers. The two had become very close in recent times, and Sondra wondered what might be brewing under the surface there.
“Brother.” Robel’s gruff voice held a note of tenderness. Or maybe Sondra was just finally learning to hear the register in which tenderness appeared in his voice. When she’d first met him, she hadn’t believed he had an ounce of tenderness in him. Now, she knew otherwise. It was just hidden well. Under the royal armor.
“There’s my big brother Robel,” Noel said, shoving aside the papers. Ana looked up, smiling at them as she whipped something in her bowl.
“Didn’t expect to find you in here,” Robel said. “What’s the occasion?”
“Ana is experimenting. Care to test?”
Robel’s eyes lit up, his gaze immediately sliding to find Sondra’s. In the dark umber of his eyes, there was something much heavier than trying food. Sondra sent him a private smile, then turned her attention toward Noel and Ana.
“We’d love to,” she said simply, noticing how the use of the word “we” thrilled through her.
Which meant that it was too late.
She was already falling for him…even if he was desperate to suffocate this attraction.
13
After a “snack” of lightly fried dumplings and enough flatbread to feed a small army, Robel and Noel had directed the group conversation to the only true rivalry between them: football. Or as the American women called it, “soccer.”
“Trust me,” Noel said, looking back at Ana. “I have made quadruple the goals that my brother has.”
Ana crossed her arms, looking suspiciously at both of them. “Uh huh. Sure.” To Sondra, she said, “I can’t figure out who’s telling the truth.”
“We need to show them,” Robel insisted. “Once my ankle heals…”
“They’ll see I’m clearly the more skilled football player,” Noel finished.
Robel and Noel loved to rib each other, but the football field was the only area where things got heated between them. Maybe it was better he was still in the cast; otherwise, he probably would have leapt to his feet to show off his footwork skills right here in the kitchen.
“Ridiculous.” Robel squeezed the bars of his crutches, scoffing. “I am the oldest brother and also the best at football. It’s a fact. Ask Father.”
Noel groaned loudly, which sent Sondra into a fit of giggles. Robel shook his head, waving Noel away.
“The truth hurts, brother,” Robel said, fighting a grin. He saw how Ana looked at Noel when Noel spoke, and he had just caught Sondra looking at him much the same way. Here in the brightly lit, stainless-steel sanctuary of the kitchen, surrounded by laughter and family, the truth seared through him: he and Sondra made sense.
As soon as the thought appeared, though, his rational mind arrived to tackle it. Reminding him of the facts. The throne. The obligations. The tradition. Definitely the tradition.
“So Robel is the most skilled with balls,” Sondra teased, leaning against the counter. Ana snort-laughed.
“Hey.” Noel sent Sondra a teasingly severe look. “It’s more than just balls.”
“Yes, I can agree with that,” Ana said, and then both women burst into laughter.
Delight rippled through Robel, and he tried to temper it, to keep it at bay. Noel was in a different position—he wasn’t first in line for the throne. Both he and Yonas enjoyed greater freedoms that way. The throne, to them, was more of an employer and less of a responsibility. Only Robel had to shoulder that burden.
It was clear that Noel and Ana had something going. And maybe it was clear to them that he and Sondra had something as well. Even if Robel actively tried to squelch that something as often as possible.
Ana excused herself to go pick up her baby Linh, and Noel followed her out, using some excuse about paperwork. Sondra and Robel shared a glance once they were left in the quiet of the kitchen.
“I left my folders in your office,” she said, looking over her shoulder toward the double doors. “Did you leave your door open?”
“Let me accompany you,” he said.
“You don’t have to walk all the way back there.”
“It’s no bother.” He didn’t want her to go just yet. He wanted to stay at her side and would use any excuse possible to gain more guilt-free time with Sondra. “I needed to get something from there anyway.” He swallowed, taking a page from Noel’s book. “Some paperwork I left.”
Sondra pushed out of the kitchen, holding the door for him once more, and the two started a slow, thoughtful walk down the main palace hall. Sondra tilted her head back and forth as she looked around, seemingly caught in her own dream space. It was hard not to stare, to just soak in the beauty of her profile.
“What are you thinking about?” Robel ventured.
“Nothing.” A naughty smile crossed her face.
“Hm.” Robel squinted up ahead, his office in sight. “I don’t believe that.”
“I shouldn’t share,” she said, almost breathily. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. “It’s sort of against the rules.”
His cock pulsed, and he knew exactly where this was heading. Where it would absolutely head. Because he’d already started to think with the wrong head.
When they got to his office, Robel fished for his key in the pocket of his linen pants. He pulled it out without taking his eyes off her. “Why don’t you share anyway?”
He pushed the door open, which creaked softly. Sondra didn’t step inside.
“You already said I can’t,” she said, lifting a brow. As though testing him. Testing his willpower.
“I take it back.”
She didn’t move, so he added, “Get in my office.”
Sondra bit at her bottom lip, that naughty smile back on her face. Desire rushed him, hot and fast. He’d die if he didn’t put his hands on her right now, this instant.
“And what are you gonna do in there?”
“Let’s find out. Now go.”
Sondra rolled her lips inward and scooted inside the office. Robel hauled himself inside and shut the door behind him, locking it for good measure. He set the crutches aside. Sondra watched him with a smirk on her face.
“Sit on the desk,” Robel commanded, walking carefully her way. She looked behind her, eyebrow arched.
“Yes. Strictly for moments like these,” he said, burying his face in the side of her hair. His heart raced like a jackrabbit’s. He’d missed this. A little too much. Barely seventy-two hours of willpower, down the drain.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to be doing this,” Sondra whispered, fingers trailing up the sides of his arms. There was no conviction in her voice—she was just giving him a hard time.
“We aren’t,” Robel said, kissing her cheek and then her mouth. The scent of her overcame him, melted away the last dregs of his resistance. “But I can’t not. So tell me what you were thinking about.”
She laughed softly as his kisses trailed along her jawline. “You. How hot it was when you picked me up against the wall at the event yesterday.”
Robel growled through a kiss, knotting his fingers in the back of her hair. “You don’t know how bad I want to take you like that.”
She tilted her head to the side, allowing him greater access to the length of her jawline. “Too bad it won’t become a reality.”
He grunted, jerking her flush against him, groin to groin. “Want to bet?”
She cocked a smirk, her eyes hooded. “Not with your ankle like it is.”
“Afterward, then.” He brushed his lips over hers again, electricity sparking inside him. She was testing him. And he was failing. “After it heals.”
“Right.” She chuckled throatily, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Just like you said wasn’t allowed.”
“Fuck what I said.” He slid his hands beneath the loose fabric of her sweater, fingertips meeting her warm, soft flesh. He moaned low, burying his face in her shoulder. “I want you right here. On my desk.”
“I wouldn’t say no to that,” she murmured into his ear. He pressed his lips to hers, snagging her bottom lip with his teeth before pulling away.
Robel’s cock pulsed hard and seeking beneath his pants. Sondra snaked her hands between their bodies, stroking the length of him through his pants. He groaned low, grinding into her hand.
“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?” His eyes were fastened to her hands rubbing him through his pants. Even this was highly erotic—simply because it was her. She made every last cell of his body turn on. Made him realize that he’d actually been dormant for way too long.
“One thousand,” she ventured.
“More.” He caught her lips in a kiss just as she tugged his pants downward, over the bulge of his erection. She fished her hands into the front of his underwear, her cool grip finding the hard heat of his shaft.
“Mmmmm.” He flexed his hips as she fisted him, her small hand on his cock setting him on edge. He thrust into her grip, but in the haze of arousal, forgot about his injured ankle. He winced, pain shooting through his foot. She gasped, gripping the sides of his arms.
“Too much,” she said, searching his face.
“I’m fine.”
“Let’s go to the chair.”
“No.” He took a bite of her neck. “I want you right here.”
She sighed, but a smile played on her face. She resumed stroking him, which caused his lower belly to tighten. “You’re stubborn.”
“And you like it,” he said, tugging her sweater up over her head. “Now let me see your beautiful body.”
She giggled, helping him take the sweater off, followed by her bra. They took a moment to disrobe—she shimmied out of her leggings and panties, he pushed down his underwear—and when he urged her back onto his desk, she hesitated.
“You really want my bare ass on your expensive desk?”
“Your bare ass is the best thing that’s ever touched this desk,” he growled, jerking his chin toward the spot she’d filled just moments earlier. “Now sit.”
She did as she was told, and he filled the space between her legs once more. His purply cockhead brushed against her wet folds; he sucked at his teeth as a wave of pleasure rocketed through him.
“God, Sondra.” He palmed her bare breasts, slightly squeezing each one in turn. Then he took each rosy nipple between his teeth, looking up at her as he suckled them one at a time. “You make me want you too much.”
“I make you?” she asked, but she sounded a million miles away. Like maybe in a different universe altogether.
“Mm-hmm.” He dragged his lips over her clavicle, starting a slow roll with his hips. He was overusing his good leg; it would surely hurt later that night. He’d probably made tomorrow much more painful. But this—Sondra on his desk, him between her legs—was more than worth it.
“Oh, God, Robel.” She clutched at his bare butt cheeks, nails digging in. She spread her legs wider, hooking her ankles behind his back. “Please. I need it.”
He grinned, pulling back so he could kiss each nipple once more. Delicately. Softly. Barely there. “I know you do. I do too.”
“Then give it to me,” she said, a pout in her tone.
Robel slid the tip of his cock back and forth over her slick entrance. Imagining what it would feel like to sink inside, as deep as he could go. Sondra’s head fell back, exposing that graceful, silken neck. He stole kisses there, gobbling it up while she was exposed.
“Please,” she breathed. “Give it to me.”
“No condom?” He whispered, squeezing the tops of her hips.
“No. Just give it to me.”
The words streaked through him, both lightning and fire, and he was pressing himself inside her before he could think better of it. His cockhead popped in, and he stilled his hips, drawing ragged breaths to calm himself. She gripped at the ridge of his shoulders, bucking against him, her eyes hooded and intense.
“Ohhh, Robel,” she moaned as he pushed himself deeper inside. Every new inch was a glorious landscape of pleasure. Tingles and heat, tightness and silk. When he reached as deep as he could go, he stilled again, drawing a deep, labored breath.
“Fuck,” was all he could say.
Sondra clung to him, those big, beautiful breasts jiggling each time he pulled out and thrust back inside her. He’d pushed himself in and out only a handful of times before he felt the warning prickles across his shoulders, the early signs of his orgasm. Heat and lust churned in his low belly. She was too tight, felt too good wrapped around his cock. He wouldn’t last long. Not like this.
Robel ran his thumb over the tight tip of her clit as he pushed himself in and out, enjoying the bevvy of expressions dancing across her face as he stimulated her. She inhaled sharply, squeaked once, and trembled in his arms as he pinched and massaged her clit while he fucked her.
Her breath hitched, and a low wail began. She was coming. He pushed himself deeper this time, rubbing her quicker, watching as she fell over the edge, her pussy convulsing around his cock.
Just watching her come did him in. His abs tightened. The first wash of heat. And then…
“Oh, Sondra.” Her name exploded past his lips, the pleasure bolting through him almost too fast for him to respond. He pulled himself out of her just as he came; his essence made a graceful arc through the air, hitting the corner of his desk.
His belly tightened one last time as a final spurt came. Sondra laughed, drawing invisible patterns over his abs as a comfortable silence settled between them.
“Holy shit,” she finally offered.
A laugh escaped him. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, and then he snagged her chin between thumb and forefinger. Those pale brown eyes zapped him to attention. He could have stood there, pressed against her warmth, lost in that gaze for eternity.
But until her time at the palace came to an end would have to do.
14
Life turned into a blissful whirlwind after the evening on Robel’s desk. Whatever fortress Robel had tried to c
onstruct around himself came crumbling down after that evening. And everything flowed better as a result. Not just having sex without angst, but working together was even better as a result.
Plans solidified quickly for Living Nativity–Ragdar. The entire city was excited about it, as evidenced by the social media response and television coverage in advance of the event. It was brand new, something the country had never seen before. A throwback to tradition, yet modern and fresh.
Exactly what Sondra had been hired to do.
On the evening of the event, both Robel and Sondra were in the thick of things in downtown Ragdar. The event was pegged to take place in the main square, which had ample gardens and green space for the audience to sit and watch. Spectators had been gathering and watching since the first rumble of activity in the square, but once the animals showed up, people really started to throng.
“Over here.” Robel waved a hand over the crowd of helpers, directing the stable hand toward the makeshift nativity scene. Sondra bit her lip as the young man weaved through the park, a donkey and camel trailing behind him. The camel eyed Sondra with one bloated, beady eye, mouth moving in silent chewing.
“Hello,” Sondra said quietly, stepping aside. The donkey brayed.
Robel barked something in Arabic, guiding the stable hand to the precise location. Sondra flitted off to tend to the actor’s costumes, leaving Robel to finish that task. A while later, the donkey brayed again, but loudly. A wind rushed past her. Sondra jolted, looking up. The donkey had trotted off, seemingly spooked.
Panic rushed through her. She looked around wildly, searching for the stable hand, for Robel, for anyone. A moment later, Robel’s shouts in Arabic broke through the din. The stable hand rushed through the crowd, grimacing, chasing after the donkey.
But the camel was loose too. Sondra stepped backward as the camel made a beeline for her, its mouth turned down disapprovingly.
“Uh, Robel…” she began, but knocked into someone behind her. Fear streaked through her. The camel wasn’t stopping. And it seemed dead set on reaching her.
The Sheikh’s Christmas Lover: Christmas With The Yared Sheikhs Book Three Page 8