The Sheikh's Unruly Lover (Almasi Sheikhs Book 2)

by Leslie North

“I’m a natural-born pessimist.” She gripped the edges of the basket, avoiding the center for some reason. It just seemed to make sense. “Or maybe I’m just a Murphy’s Law adherent.”

  “What’s Murphy’s Law?” Omar untied some of the ropes tethering the basket to the ground. The basket jolted beneath them.

  “It means whatever can go wrong will, and at the worst possible moment.” She squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach lurched. She’d never been in a hot air balloon before. It just wasn’t one of those things that seemed wise. But for Omar’s sake, she’d tough it out.

  Even if it meant ingloriously puking from the side of a floating basket hundreds of feet in the air.

  “This is perfectly safe,” Omar said, sliding his hand over her shoulder. She relaxed a little. His touch certainly had a tendency to soothe. He just might have to touch her for the entire duration of the trip.

  “Nothing is perfectly safe, though,” she pointed out.

  “You’re right. But I’ve gone up hundreds of times. Often by myself. Today is not the day we’re going to end up in the desert owing National Oil a million dollars.”

  He planted a quick kiss on her lips, leaving her stunned and enthralled. Hot air ballooning certainly brought out a different side of Omar. He untied the last rope and opened the propane valve. A blast of flame shot up into the balloon. He left it open in long bursts, the tssss, tssss punctuating their ascent into the sky.

  Marian gripped the edge of the basket, afraid to look down but also afraid to look up. Couldn’t the fabric catch on fire? She kept her eyes on the horizon, which looked like a postcard, something innocuous and surreal, sandy dunes rolling toward a cityscape.

  “You like it?” Omar’s eyes were wide.

  “Yeah.” She swallowed hard. Her knuckles had turned white. “It’s, uh, different.”

  Omar turned up the burner, which took them higher up into the sky. Wind currents jostled the basket as they rose, sending Marian’s stomach lurching. But after a few moments, the basket steadied, and they drifted effortlessly through the air. Omar slipped an arm around her, surveying the horizon.

  “This is the sweet spot,” he said, his voice soft and reverent. “The place where things just seem…fine.”

  Marian blinked, finally daring to look around a bit. The world beneath them stretched away like a fairytale: jagged, scorched mountains to the east, a glittering gulf to the south, the skyscrapers stretching up into the clouds behind them.

  “It’s amazing,” she said, trying to immortalize this view in her head, to remember this moment forever. The best, most intangible, souvenir from her trip.

  Omar sighed, running his thumb over the knotted braiding of the basket edge. “I used to come up here a lot when my wife was ill.”

  Marian’s chest tightened at the mention of his wife. She’d forgotten about that detail, and the realization crashed around her. She looked up at him, unsure what to say.

  “And then a lot more once she passed,” Omar went on, a familiar clouded look coming over his face. He stared out at the day, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Marian waited for him to continue, but he didn’t go on.

  “I can see why this would be nice in a time like that,” she said quietly.

  “She had cancer,” Omar said. “It came on so fast. She was diagnosed just a few weeks after we got married. We didn’t have much time together.”

  “How long did you date before you got married?”

  Omar smiled sadly. “It was an arranged marriage. My father’s suggestion.”

  Marian tried hard to swallow her surprise. Annabelle’s own brush with an arranged marriage sounded like something out of a movie, but to think that Omar had actually done it! Be sensitive. Be calm.

  “I know it sounds…crazy,” Omar said, raising a hand as though to combat the thoughts she hoped he hadn’t picked up on. “But it was fine. She and I had known each other for years as acquaintances. Our families are close. So it worked well.”

  “But did you…” Marian stopped herself before blurting out something insensitive. She’d rather die than be another Kelly. “I mean, did you have feelings for her?”

  “Sure, after some time.” Omar rubbed his thumb over his palm in a slow, methodical circle. “We loved each other very much. Her illness brought us together, ironically. So we savored every moment we had.”

  A painful silence consumed the air between them. Marian let his words hang in the air as she studied the shiny waters of the Gulf.

  “I don’t talk about her much,” Omar went on. “My family doesn’t bring her up anymore. They just act as though I’m a regular bachelor. My father has suggested another marriage, but it wouldn’t be right.”

  Marian’s skin prickled. Was this the let-down speech she’d been dreading? The you’re-really-great-but-I-just-can’t-right-now talk she’d heard in varying forms her entire life?

  “Do you want to be a regular bachelor?”

  Omar met her gaze briefly. Sadness filled his dark eyes, and for a moment, she regretted the question.

  “Sometimes. But I just don’t know.”

  Marian reached for his arm, letting her hand slide down to meet his. They clasped hands, his warmth rooting her to her spot. She didn’t quite understand what had prompted the sharing on his part, but it was a sweet moment anyway. Even if she could sense the rejection coming from a mile away.

  “You remind me of her,” Omar said, his voice so quiet she thought she’d misheard him. “I mean, you two are nothing alike. But there’s something about you.”

  “Something about Marian,” she cracked.

  Omar grinned. “Right. Your energy...I don’t know. It’s nice.”

  She offered a small smile, squeezing his hand. “Well, that sounds good.” At least you’re not telling me that the orgasms last night were a mistake.

  Omar sighed heavily, like shaking off the mood. “I’m sorry if that was too much. I don’t know why I told you all that, to be honest.”

  “It’s okay.” She dragged her fingertips up his arm, under the cuff of his short-sleeve shirt. “I like getting to know you. Even though I feel like I already know you.”

  He smiled, slipping his arm around her waist. The basket drifted noiselessly through the blue sky, and they leaned against the edge.

  “What I should be talking about is whether you’re a fan of the hot air balloon,” Omar said, looking down at her. The sparkle was back in his eye. “Do you want to pilot it? We’re sinking a little.”

  She jolted upright. “Sinking? Is that normal?”

  “Yes, of course. We need to either give it more flame or let it continue to float downward.” He guided her hand toward the propane valve in the center. “Want to try?”

  She grimaced as she tugged the lever like she’d watched him do. The flame flicked up quickly then subsided when she let go.

  Omar laughed. “Great. Now do it longer.”

  Marian pulled the lever again, letting the flame roar up into the vast arena of the balloon.

  “You’re a pro,” Omar said, his hands sliding down the curve of her hips. “It’s pretty sexy.”

  Marian lifted a brow. “Is that all it takes to turn a man on? Playing with fire?”

  Omar bit his bottom lip, pulling her against him. Their hips knocked together. “See for yourself.”

  Marian felt what he was talking about before she saw it, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against his dark slacks. She grinned—men were so easy—and rubbed her crotch against him.

  “What are you getting at? You better not think for a second you’ll get me rocking and rolling in this rickety basket.”

  Omar grinned devilishly. “No, of course not.” He spun her at the hips, pressing her belly-first against the edge of the basket. Her breath caught in her throat. She gripped the edges as he rolled his groin against her ass, his body seemingly pouring heat into her.

  “We can do it this way,” Omar murmured into her ear, his voice almost a growl. He moved his hips in a slow cir
cle. Her eyes fluttered shut. “Taking in the sights.”

  A shuddery sigh escaped her. “Yeah, that sounds fine.”

  Omar’s big hands moved over her waist, down to the front of her pants. He unbuttoned them, and they dropped to her ankles. He pushed her panties down, inviting the cool breeze to meet her ass cheeks.

  “Yesss,” he said, palming the roundness of her ass. His belt buckle clacked as he undid it, and a moment later his warm, bare cock pressed at the seam of her ass cheeks.

  “Mmmm.” Her head dropped as he rubbed his cockhead over the crease of her pussy. The glorious sensation distracted her from worrying about looking down.

  “What a lovely way to spend the afternoon,” she murmured a moment later as he placed soft kisses along her neckline. His hands pressed up under her shirt, wedging underneath her bra, firmly clasping each breast in his hands.

  “I agree,” he said, his voice husky. His cock slipped between the folds of her pussy, and she arched her ass toward him so he could press further. And then he slipped inside of her, breathtakingly slowly, stretching her out as he pushed deeper. She gasped, clutching the edge of the basket as his own grip tightened on her breasts. He moaned low as he plunged deeper, burying himself inside, the two of them pressed to the edge of the basket like the most erotic sightseeing tourists.

  “God, that’s amazing,” she gasped out, once he had wriggled into the last inch of space. When he filled her, her entire body buzzed with happiness. As if he was more than just a hot partner on a business trip. As if somehow, he was meant for her.

  “Mmmm.” Omar rocked his hips in a slow circle, his breath hot at her ear. He tweaked a nipple as he did. She let her head fall back against his chest, tendrils of pleasure beginning to unfurl deep inside her.

  A light breeze danced across her face, and between the powerful thrusts, she managed to open her eyes and catch cerulean skies, sandy stretches of shoreline. Omar grunted as he worked her. Her breath hitched as the climax came on. She groaned as he picked up the pace, moving a hand from her breast to the V of her legs, a fingertip seeking the tight nub of her clit.

  He pinched at it and rolled it between his fingers. She squealed as the orgasm built and then broke through the barrier, washing her body with light and heat and pleasure. Marian quaked in his arms as she came, jerking as the waves subsided. Omar pushed in one more time, stilling against her as a groan drifted from his lips.

  The two stood there, breathing heavily against each other. Marian clutched at his bicep, her gaze riveted on the Gulf below.

  “Did we really just fuck in a hot air balloon?” She looked back at him, finding amusement in his eyes.

  “I don’t know.” He slipped out of her, squeezing an ass cheek as he did. “We should probably try it again just to make sure.”

  10

  Omar woke up early the next morning. Something nagged at him, had been there all throughout the previous evening, following him into his dreams, and now into the next day. He blinked, staring up at the white ceiling of his penthouse, silk sheets splayed around him.

  Was it the deal? He and Marian should have heard from National by the close of business the day before, but amid all their sightseeing, neither had noticed that the call never came. He sighed heavily, draping an arm over his eyes.

  He wished Marian were at his side. Was that the nagging feeling? He pushed to sitting, staring at the bedside clock. Six a.m. Too early for a Saturday. Especially considering how wiped out he’d been after their day together: laughing, exploring, making love…

  His belly cinched. There it was again. The feeling. But was there any other way to describe what he had done with Marian? He might not love her, but they certainly weren’t fucking. They made love—there was something intimate and loyal there. Even if neither had spoken the words.

  He pushed out of bed, rubbing at his eyes on the way to the bathroom. He hadn’t spent the night again, fearing a scandal. But every part of him wanted to stay with her, to wake up with that soft body in his arms, those curls pressed to his face.

  Omar grunted as he peed, feeling both alert and sleepy. He stumbled back to his bedroom, intent on getting a few more hours of rest before beginning his day. He had no plans, but he had a feeling something would lead him to Marian.

  He lay in bed, drifting in and out of daydreams that segued into sleep. He jolted awake just before eight when a text message came through.

  “You awake?” It was Marian. He scrambled to answer it, typing out a fast response.

  “I am.” He sent the message, staring at his words. There was so much more he wanted to say. A moment later, his phone rang. He smiled as he answered it.

  “Good morning, beautiful.” It felt good to say those words and mean it.

  Maran laughed on the other end of the phone. “You certainly woke up in a generous mood.”

  “I’m being honest, not generous,” he said, fluffing the pillow beneath his head. “Why are you up so early on your day off?”

  “Well, I had an idea and thought you might like to join.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Sightseeing!” Marian’s tinkling laugh delighted him. “Wanna come with?”

  “Yesterday’s sights weren’t enough for you?” He rolled out of bed, heading for his closet. Of course he’d go. It was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

  “I couldn’t see too many sights through the orgasms,” she said. “But I appreciated the effort.”

  He chuckled, pulling a linen shirt from the closet, followed by a pair of light gray pants. “Should I come soon?”

  “As soon as you can,” she purred. “And anywhere you’d like, too.”

  He paused as her words sank in, then he laughed. “Naughty girl.”

  “I’ll be here. We can have breakfast together before we go, if you’d like.”

  He smiled, excitement prickling through him. “I’ll be there in a half hour.”

  When Omar strolled into Marian’s hotel, she was already waiting for him in the hotel’s restaurant. She waved at him from a corner table, bread plates and glasses of orange juice crowding the table.

  “I got you an American breakfast,” she said. “I kinda miss it. So I thought we could share it.”

  He pulled back his seat, admiring the spread. A waffle stared up at him from the center of the table. “I think that’s a lovely idea.”

  “Have you ever had waffles before?” She pointed her knife at the puffy monstrosity. “There’s a certain technique to eating them. It includes a half pound of butter.” She licked what looked like jelly off the knife.

  Omar unfolded the napkin over his lap, taking a sip of the orange juice at his setting. “Yes, but only once. And I’m certain that I didn’t eat them correctly. They were plain.”

  Maran’s jaw dropped. “Waffle faux pas!”

  The two chattered happily as they barreled through the breakfast spread. Marian kept him laughing and eating, way more than he normally would at such an hour. He liked sharing in this slice of her home culture…and even more, he liked just being with her. Besides, he was inclined to do almost anything she suggested. If she’d implored him to take a bite of a stale rice nugget, he would have done it.

  “I’m stuffed,” he said after finishing off the plate of eggs. He folded up his napkin, setting it on the empty plate. “We better start sightseeing, or else I’ll fall asleep.”

  “Agreed. So I have a list of must-sees.” Marian produced a little slip of paper, smoothing it over the table top. “Based on some research and my own morbid curiosity.”

  Omar studied the list, which had at least fifteen items on it. “The catacombs.” He noticed but didn’t mention the butterfly garden on the list. That connection again…

  “I’ve heard so much about them! Anyway, since you’re the resident Minarak native, you have to be the tour guide.”

  “Of course. I promised.” He flashed a smile, snatching up the paper. “I like this. I don’t think I’ll even tell you where we’re begi
nning.”

  They rose from their seats, Marian’s jaunty smile practically a drug for him. “Just don’t lead me down any dark alleyways.”

  “Not even for my own selfish purposes?” They fell into step beside one another as they headed for the front doors. He wanted to sling an arm around her, but there were too many eyes at this hour in the grand hotel foyer.

  “Those are the only allowable purposes,” Marian said, knocking her shoulder against him. They shared a private smile, one that sent a jolt through him. This was going to be as good a day as yesterday, if not better. And his companion had everything to do with it.

  The doors slid open as they approached, and a puff of dry summer air reached them. He paused by the curb as he texted his driver to pull up. Marian slid a pair of sunglasses onto her nose, surveying the day with her hands on her hips.

  “If there’s one thing I accomplish in Parsabad during my stay,” she said, “It’s going to be brokering the damn deal. But the close runner-up is going to be a slew of cringe-worthy tourist photos, so I hope you don’t mind a selfie stick.” She patted the oversized purse on her arm with an evil grin.

  Omar laughed as the car rolled up. He held the back door open for her, more excited than he’d ever thought possible at the notion of a selfie stick. It was one of those things that didn’t figure into his regular life. But with Marian at his side, it only felt right. And the idea of documenting this day, their time together, this brief and joyful respite from his regular life, was a welcome one.

  He spoke quickly to the driver then slid into the back seat with Marian, his arm immediately settling over her shoulders. He grabbed her chin between his fingers, tilting her head to look back at him.

  “Why are you the only woman who can make a selfie stick sexy?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Well, it depends what pictures we take, but…”

  He brushed his lips against hers as the car rolled into motion. They had a whole day and a whole list ahead of them. And already Omar wished it would never end.

  The two spent their day gallivanting through Minarak from east to west, north to south, imbibing every manner of touristy sightseeing opportunity available. The catacombs started off their morning, followed by a morbid tour of a famous cemetery, climbing to the cupola of a supposedly haunted unused mosque, lunch at a traditional Parsian buffet, tasting the chocolate treats of three separate famous dessert shops, and the butterfly garden. Her delight as the flying bits of color flocked to her cup of nectar had in turn delighted him. They ended with dinner and an old-timey Parsian movie with no subtitles, totally at Marian’s insistence.