by Leslie North
“There are people here.” Beyond that, there was the soccer team, the security team…lots of prying eyes.
“Fine. You’re right about that.”
“When we’re in private, you’ll know it.”
This caught Hannah off guard, and the laugh she let out was low and delighted. Chakir wanted her in that private room now. He wanted several locked doors between them and the nearest person. Which wasn’t even a thought he should entertain, much less indulge. Much less indulge in honest-to-god public, in a tavern, the way he’d done the night before. She squeezed his hand—how had their fingers entwined so secretly even he hadn’t noticed it?
They couldn’t keep this up forever. Stolen kisses in the garden, stolen make-out sessions at the tavern, low-key flirting at soccer practice while continuing to act like it wasn’t happening at all other times…
“How will I know, exactly?” Hannah prompted. “What will you—oh.”
Chakir whipped his head back around to the field in time to see another boy, eyes down at his shoes, run headlong into Ryan. Ryan tumbled hard into the grass. Two men from the sidelines ran forward, and a flash at the corner of his vision told Chakir Hannah was already moving.
By the time they got to the middle of the field, Ori was kneeling next to Ryan, who sat up and shook his head from side to side. “You can’t do that, Jeri,” Ori called over his shoulder. “You have to be more careful. Ryan, are you all right? Jeri, are you listening to me?”
“Yes.” The other boy’s voice quavered.
“Ryan is a member of the royal family. He cannot be hurt this way.”
“I’m not hurt,” said Ryan.
Chakir could feel Hannah holding her breath next to him. This was exactly what she hadn’t wanted—for the world to see Ryan differently. They would see him differently—Chakir knew that. But maybe they didn’t have to here, in the middle of soccer practice.
“Boys, listen,” said Ori, tension singing in his voice. Chakir hadn’t seen that at the tavern the other night, or even at the coffee shop. The man had seemed at ease about letting Ryan join the team.
“Yes,” Chakir cut in. “I have something important to tell you.”
Ori’s eyes met his, and he gave the other man a subtle wave. It’s fine, he hoped to communicate. Chakir took a deep breath. He’d be addressing them as a coach, not a sheikh.
“The collision on the field was a mistake,” he said, slow and clear, so nobody could mistake his words. “Ryan is here to play like everyone else. Don’t treat him any differently. Jeri, perhaps we should work a little harder on looking where we’re going instead of at our feet.”
“I didn’t mean to do it.” Jeri stepped forward and offered Ryan his hand. “Sorry, Ryan.”
“It’s okay,” answered Ryan, hopping to his feat like nothing had happened.
“I’m going to get out some more balls, and we’re going to drill this.” Chakir clapped his hands. “Eyes forward, with only the occasional look down at our feet. Got it?”
“Got it!” shouted all the boys, and then they ran away, scattering like startled birds.
Ori let out a long breath and clapped Chakir on the shoulder. “Thank you.”
“No differently,” warned Chakir. He raised his voice so that the security team could hear, too. “He’s here like all the rest. Don’t worry about it.” Even if Chakir wanted to err on the side of caution—Ryan was a member of the royal family, and his safety was paramount—they couldn’t have a red alert every time two people ran into each other on the soccer field. Hannah didn’t want that for Ryan, and Chakir was beginning to see her side.
He couldn’t stop seeing her side, in fact.
And if he wanted her to be happy, then what? Was that a crime?
“Everyone worries about it,” said Ori. “But I’ll try my best.”
“I have faith in you.” Chakir called the words over his shoulder on his way to the sidelines. Inside of a minute, he had more balls on the field, and the boys were working on dribbling them back and forth. Chakir’s whistle knocked against his chest as he followed along, his heart settling back into its regular rhythm.
He’d never pictured himself in this situation, but all of it—including standing up for what Hannah wanted—felt right. Even if it was against tradition. A month ago, he’d have been taking Ryan out of the game completely. Safety first. Rules first.
Chakir stopped in front of the tent, and a moment later a hand on his elbow broke him out of his thoughts. “Thank you,” Hannah said. Two words—that was all—and he felt every bit of himself bend toward her, as if she was the center of the universe.
He felt her eyes on him for the rest of the practice. And though Chakir forced himself not to look, he knew the heat from her gaze was real.
10
Candles? No candles? Hannah couldn’t decide.
She’d had the idea to invite Chakir to dinner as soon as she and Ryan hopped into the SUV after his soccer practice, and by the time they drove through the palace gates, she’d texted Nadima about arranging it.
Now, looking at the place settings they’d put together at the table for two by the window, Hannah felt more than a little guilty. She’d planned a thank-you dinner but hadn’t cooked any of it herself. Silver covers concealed the food underneath, prepared by one of Hamari’s most talented chefs, and here she was, debating whether the silver candlesticks were too much.
The sun sank beneath the horizon outside. Hannah picked up the candlesticks.
A knock sounded at the door.
Too late.
Hannah put the candles back and went to answer the door.
Chakir stood in the hall outside, hands in his pockets.
“Oh, now you knock,” she said. “Come on in.”
“I’ve always knocked.”
Hannah shut the door behind them, feeling it in her soul when it clicked shut, closing out the rest of the palace. And the rest of the world. “I recall one occasion when you appeared in my bedroom without knocking.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. I knocked that time, too.”
“I was hardly dressed.”
“You were wearing the largest robe I’ve ever seen.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “That robe came from the palace. If you have a problem with the robes, aren’t you—you know—the one in charge of that?”
Chakir’s golden-brown eyes lit up in amusement. “You think I’m the one who chooses the bathrobes? If I did choose the bathrobes, I’d choose—” He bit his lip, like he’d caught himself about to say something completely naughty, and Hannah’s entire chest heated at the possibilities. “Thank you for the invitation, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.” Hannah gestured awkwardly at the table by the window, feeling every bit the waitress she used to be in college. “Right this way.”
Chakir’s laugh was a low rumble that faded away as they got closer to the table. “This looks lovely,” he said, and something in his voice sent another wash of heat down her spine.
“Well, sit down, sit down.” The old training took over, and Hannah tried to usher Chakir into his seat.
“I don’t think so. Not before you.”
Chakir went to the table and pulled out her chair. Hannah opened her mouth to protest, but the words fizzled out before they reached her lips. The hottest man on the planet was pulling out her chair for her. That wasn’t something to say no to.
She took her seat, Chakir sliding the chair in at the perfect moment. Hannah’s throat went tight. For all the fun she’d had with Tahir, he had never once pulled out her chair for her. And neither had any other man.
The guys she’d dated in college—before Tahir—hadn’t really been men, come to think of it.
Not the way Chakir was.
He took his seat across from Hannah, and the heat that had been building at the base of her core settled across her cheeks. “Here, let me…” She reached for the linen napkin on his place setting and unfurled it in midair, standing up
in the process.
This had not been part of her training as a waitress. But she had to do something to scratch the itch before she sat across the table from him, behaving herself.
She went around next to him and let it flutter into his lap, brushing the cloth against the front of his pants. It was naughty, practically an invitation, and Chakir reached for her. He put an arm around her waist and pulled her in close. She felt every breath he took, and just when she thought she’d swoon into his arms, she stepped back.
Chakir’s eyes followed her to her seat. “Thank you for the napkin.”
“You’re so welcome.” She grinned back at him, relishing the answering smile in his eyes.
“Tease,” he whispered, and then he cleared his throat and focused on his plate.
The meal was a fragrantly spiced cut of lamb swimming in a cream sauce that made Hannah’s mouth water.
“I see you enlisted Zephan, our best chef, to help with your dinner plans,” Chakir said. “Excellent choice.”
“Thank you.” The flush of pride at his words made her cheeks even hotter. They both went to work on the meal, and the clink of silver against china calmed Hannah’s racing heart.
“You’re quiet,” Chakir commented. “Is everything all right? Ryan’s all right?”
“It’s good,” Hannah said quickly. “We’re good. He’s asleep in his room, with the nanny down the hall.” It was clever, the way the nanny’s smaller suite attached to Hannah and Ryan’s. A monitor outside Ryan’s door would alert her if he called out.
Hannah was free for the evening.
“He did well today.” Chakir took a bite of lamb and chewed it thoughtfully. “Very well.”
“You did well.”
His eyes danced on hers. “Oh? Were you impressed with my coaching abilities?”
“Yes,” she said, and Chakir laughed. “Really, I was. And…” Hannah was getting choked up. Again. “I wanted to thank you for how you handled the situation with Ryan.”
Chakir put down his fork.
“I was so thankful, and I wanted…I just wanted to thank you.”
“Hannah.” Chakir came and knelt down next to her. “You don’t have to cry.”
She blinked, hard. “I’m not crying, I swear. My voice sounds like this all the time.”
He laughed out loud, taking her face in his hands. “You’re welcome. For the coaching. Though I’m glad to do it. You don’t have to rope Zephan into a special dinner every practice session.”
“But I am impressed by you,” she admitted, the strength of his hands radiating through the softness of his palms. “Maybe you were right. About a few things, at least.” Hannah reveled in his touch. She wanted him to touch more of her, but that was a bright line between the two of them. They hadn’t discussed it. They didn’t need to. But now, with his hands on her face like this, she felt like they were dangerously close to that line. She stood up, and he followed, never taking his hands away.
“Don’t keep me in suspense,” Chakir said, eyes wide. “Which things?”
“It was a good idea for us to come here. Ryan is blossoming. He has opportunities here that wouldn’t have come easily to us in the States.”
“Yes,” Chakir said, his tone serious. “It was a flawless plan.”
He was so close.
And they were so alone.
For the first time since she’d stepped off the plane at the airport, there were no prying eyes. Hannah’s heart had never sounded so loud.
“I do have a few ideas for things that we could—”
Chakir kissed her. It was hard and fast and hot, and it took Hannah’s breath away.
“Chakir,” she gasped. “What was that for?”
“A thank you,” he said. “For your thanks.”
“Now I owe you one,” she admonished him, and she kissed him back, nipping at his bottom lip.
He swept her close, and Hannah threw her arms around his neck. Chakir tasted better than the lamb, better than the cream sauce. He tasted better than the adventure of flying to Hamari, away from the life they’d known. He tasted like promise.
And he tasted like want.
His hands moved deftly over her dress, and the fabric dropped away. Hannah found her own hands working steadily at his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. She helped him strip the T-shirt underneath over his head, and there they were at last—the abs she’d always known she’d find. She raked her fingers down those ridges, and Chakir let out a low growl. His hands on her waist were strong and confident, and he dropped his lips to her jawline.
“We can stop,” he murmured into her ear. “If this is too much.”
“No,” she breathed. “No. Let’s not stop, Chakir.”
Hannah found herself spread out on the sofa in her slip, Chakir’s mouth on her neck and her body arching up toward his with every kiss he pressed to her sensitive skin.
“Hurry, hurry,” she whispered into his ear. The nanny wasn’t a foolproof guarantee. She hadn’t expected, hadn’t intended this, but now that it was happening, Hannah felt a pleasant fire over her skin and in every nerve. “Please, Chakir, I can’t wait anymore.”
He tugged off her panties and let them fall to the floor in a curl of lace. Then he stood up, digging in his pocket. He came up with a wallet, and then a foil packet.
A wallet condom? Even princes had wallet condoms? The thought flashed into her mind, and then Chakir shoved his pants down and Hannah forgot about everything but his body.
He was back between her legs in an instant, and she wrapped them around his waist, hips sliding into place, heart thudding into place.
He brought his mouth down to her neck, brushing her neck with kisses that made goose bumps rise from the heat of his breath. He nudged himself against her opening, teasing her. He was hard as steel and she bucked up into that hardness, drawing out a low laugh from between his lips.
“Be patient,” he commanded, and she tried. For one heartbeat.
Hannah turned her head to the side and stifled her moan with one knuckle.
“Wet,” he said. “So wet for me.”
“Yes,” she hissed, and rocked her hips to meet him.
Chakir pushed inside her inch by tantalizing inch. Her body opened for him with a slowness that bordered on agonizing. It felt that good. She felt the moment he bottomed out, his hips pressed flush against her.
Nerves alight, in flames, and the pleasure built with every thrust, until the brush of his hips sent her over the edge into a sweet, sweet release. Chakir wasn’t far behind, and when neither had anything left, they fell back against the sofa, breathing hard.
“That was…that was definitely against the rules,” panted Hannah. “Definitely.”
“I don’t care,” Chakir said against her neck.
She wanted him to stay there forever.
“We should get up,” she whispered.
Chakir sat up and shook his head. “I know. But I don’t want to.”
“I can sweeten the deal.”
“How?” His eyes…oh, she wanted to fall into his eyes. Again and again and again.
“Dessert.”
11
He’d kissed her, he’d kissed her, he’d kissed her, and so much more than that. They’d blown right past that line in the sand without so much as looking down at it, and Hannah didn’t regret it for an instant. It had been so good.
When was the last time she’d felt this giddy?
Never. That was the last time. She had never felt this giddy in all her life. The last few years hadn’t had a lot of opportunities to feel giddy, anyway, and Hannah soaked it up like she’d soak up sun on the beach.
Chakir kissed her again on the way to the door of her apartment, and again when he stepped into the hall, and again before she shut the door. It was like he couldn’t let go of her, but in the end he forced himself to do it. He couldn’t stay in her apartment—that was too far. Ryan couldn’t come out of his bedroom in the morning and find them together.
She leaned against the door, imagining herself the way she’d look in a movie. A close-up shot of her face, eyes closed, head tilted back against the mahogany. Pink in her cheeks. Her hair spilling over her shoulders. Slip slightly askew.
She floated to bed in her same slip, in that same mood, and fell into the covers with every intention of getting up to change before she fell asleep. But by the time her head hit the pillow she was near to dreaming…of Chakir.
Hannah was still buzzing with afterglow when she woke up the next morning, sitting bolt upright at the gentle beep of the alarm, beaming her face off. All through her shower, all through styling her hair, all through putting on her sweep of lipstick and brushes of mascara, she daydreamed about him. Morning-dreamed, really. Part of her didn’t want to do anything other than lounge on her bed and read something romantic, like another scene out of a movie. But they had an agenda to keep up with.
She blew herself a kiss in the mirror. “Get it together.” It was good advice. Ryan had a tutoring session this morning. She needed her head in the game.
Especially if she wanted to make any changes, which she did.
No more sitting on the sidelines. Hannah had ideas about how to improve things for Ryan and everyone else. If she and Ryan were going to tackle the business of being royal, they were going to do it in the most efficient way possible, and that didn’t necessarily mean sessions in the sitting room. Ryan was five. He wanted to run and play more than he wanted anything else. They could tap into that energy instead of trying to get him to corral it for hours every day.
She’d been meaning to talk about those ideas with Chakir last night. He’d put a stop to that with the kiss that had turned into another kiss and another, and then…
Head in the game, she thought, and went to wake up Ryan.
“The thing is, Mr. Medhi…Ryan learns better by being active.”
Hannah sat at the table across from Ryan and Mr. Medhi. She was going to change things. Last night everything had changed for her, so today should be Ryan’s day. Her mind had to stay away from tumbling around with Chakir in bed.