Sheikhs of Hamari: The Complete Series

Home > Romance > Sheikhs of Hamari: The Complete Series > Page 16
Sheikhs of Hamari: The Complete Series Page 16

by Leslie North


  “Chloe. Good morning.” Kishon’s brother Chakir stood to greet her. His fiancée Hannah grinned at her, nose wrinkling. Whew, she was a stunner, and the perfect match for Chakir. They had similar chestnut hair, and Hannah’s was styled into a sleek knot at the base of her neck. Jealousy at their very real engagement roiled in her gut like a brewing storm, but she forced that feeling away.

  “Good morning. It’s good to meet you. Again,” Chloe said. They’d met briefly on the way back into the palace from dinner last night, but it had been such a whirlwind that she and Hannah had only been able to exchange a few words. Now they air-kissed both cheeks, and Chloe’s stomach knotted. Ugh. She had to stop focusing on how temporary this was and live in the moment.

  And this moment was a meeting with a real prince and his real fiancée.

  The three of them sat around the table and chatted while a waiter brought out frosted bowls of fruit and a tray of steaming muffins. Chloe tore one open and popped a piece into her mouth. Perfection.

  “We don’t want to take up too much of your vacation,” Hannah said. “So we thought we’d get to the point.”

  “It’s become more than a vacation,” Chloe said. “Kishon is letting me work with the people at the youth center. I have some ideas that will—” She laughed, waving a hand in the air. “I can’t wait to get back over there.”

  Hannah and Chakir exchanged a look.

  “Uh oh,” said Chloe.

  “About that,” began Chakir.

  “Have you guys already…uh, claimed it? For your own project?” She fought off a wave of disappointment. “Because if so, obviously I can—”

  “No, no.” Hannah held up both hands. “We wanted to talk to you about the wedding.”

  “My wedding? Or yours?”

  “Both,” said Hannah. She shot another glance at Kishon. “The thing is, we have a date in mind.” She named a date almost exactly a month away. “It’s the anniversary of when we first met, and when Chakir came into Ryan’s life…” Hannah put a hand on top of Chakir’s. “It would mean a lot to us to get married on that day.”

  “And that means Kishon and I have to be married first.” The reality sank in with a booming thump of her heart.

  Chakir studied her. “Since your engagement is…” He pinned his lip between his teeth.

  “Fake.” Chloe sat up straight, giving them her very best confident bartender smile. “We can say it out loud. It’s okay.”

  “Since it’s fake,” Hannah barreled on. “We thought we would quickly pull together the wedding details for you, to save time. Then we can have ours.” She wrinkled her nose. “I know it’s a lot to ask, rushing you like this—”

  “And obviously, it’s completely up to you and Kishon,” Chakir said firmly. “If you’d rather take your time—”

  “No,” said Chloe, louder than she’d intended. She folded her hands neatly on the table, steadying herself. “In fact, it’s—it’s probably better to do it faster.”

  “Like you and Kishon are so in love that you couldn’t wait.” Hannah’s voice was gentle, like raindrops, and a vision of Kishon flashed into her mind.

  He’d spent so many hours sitting across the bar, laughing at the things she’d said and looking at her as if he could see straight into her soul. Chloe had left the bar feeling buzzed, like she’d had a good glass of wine, every time he came in. She felt a pang—a sweet, sad note in her center. Chloe couldn’t tell whether it was because she really was in love with Kishon or because she wanted it to be true so badly.

  Or maybe both.

  “Yes,” she said, a beat too late. “Just like that.” She wiggled her fingers in the air. “Give it to me, then.”

  “Are you sure?” Chakir said, the hope in his eyes unmistakable. “Because if—”

  Chloe grinned cheekily despite the ache at the center of her ribs. “I know you’ve got a binder with all the wedding plans. Let me see it so we can get this show on the road.”

  “If you insist.” Hannah reached down with a flourish, pulling a thick binder from somewhere underneath the table.

  Chloe burst out laughing. “Very slick.”

  “Just wait until you see the plans.” Hannah flipped the binder around and pushed it across the table. It was no slapdash effort—each page was thick and glossy. “All the major details are there, so you don’t have to spend too much time on it.”

  Chloe flipped one page then another. There were the royal gardens in an artist’s rendering showing the gauzy, sophisticated decorations that would enhance the space. There was the royal ballroom, filled with tables. A close-up of the centerpieces—large and rich, with the flowers in shades of purple that made her think of romance at dusk.

  She looked up at Hannah and narrowed her eyes. “This is your second-choice stuff, isn’t it?”

  Chakir straightened up in his seat. “What does that mean?”

  Hannah patted his hand. “It totally is,” she admitted with a chuckle. “But royal second choice still pretty much blows every other possible wedding out of the water.”

  “Wow.” Chloe whistled. “I can’t wait to see what the top tier is. I assume I’ll be getting some prime seating, right?”

  All of them laughed, and Chloe went back to the binder. It was a relief that they’d done all this. If she’d put her own heart and soul into it…

  Well, she couldn’t think about that now.

  “Talk me through this part,” Chloe said when she reached the section about the guest list. “I’ve got time.”

  “Chloe?”

  Too late, she realized Kishon had been talking to her. She shook herself out of her thoughts and came back to reality, which was the reality of his sprawling bedroom. He had his own sitting area, and they’d been cuddled on the couch for a while now.

  “Sorry,” she said, shifting into the warmth of him. Kishon wrapped his arm more tightly around her shoulders. “I was thinking. What did you say?”

  “It’s not important. What is important is that serious frown on your face.”

  Chloe replaced it with a smile. Her boss had always said that a fake smile will make you feel better. Fake it until you make it. She was happy—that wasn’t it, exactly. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then screwed up her lips.

  “Fake-wedding stress?” teased Kishon.

  “You say that, but it’s real.”

  “Did your meeting not go well?”

  “No, it went very well. But it was a lot,” Chloe admitted. “Hannah said that she had most of it planned out, and she wasn’t kidding. I guess I thought I would have more to do with it.”

  Kishon put his fingers under her chin and adjusted them so she was looking into his eyes. “Did you want that? Because if planning the wedding is important to you—”

  “No. I trust Hannah. I really like her. It’s just that it’s all feeling…more real than I expected.”

  “Hmm.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. The casual dominance of him—the way he took her mouth with his, exploring her with his tongue in practiced flicks and swirls—made her melt. “I know what you need.”

  He picked her up from the sofa in one movement and carried her toward the bed.

  “Kishon, I’m really fine—” A nervous giggle escaped her, though she had nothing to be nervous about. It just hit her in these moments that he was a king, and getting carried to his bed was like stepping onto a roller coaster.

  Kishon dispensed with her clothes, then piled up the pillows against his massive headboard. Then he picked her up again, laying her gently against the pillows. “There.” He fussed over one of them. “Does that relax you?”

  She smiled up at him, stretching her arms above her head. “You have a nice bed.”

  He looked down at her, heat in his eyes. “I can’t accept this. You still look tense.”

  Kishon climbed onto the bed with her and tugged her down a few inches, spreading her legs with his big hands. He bent his head low and kissed up the inside of one leg, starting
at her ankle and ending with a lingering brush to the inside of her thigh. Chloe’s eyes fluttered closed. Her body quivered in his grip. And then his mouth was on the hot center of her.

  He licked her slowly at first, tasting every inch and leaving fluttering, tortuous kisses on her clit every so often. She groaned, rocking her hips up to him. “You’re an awful tease,” she gasped.

  “I’m a master at what I do.”

  He was a master at ratcheting up the intensity bit by bit, licking a little harder every time, pressing his tongue a little deeper, and by the time he sealed his lips over her clit and pushed two fingers inside her, she was a wordless ball of sparking nerves. He devoured her while she came, utterly relentless, and Chloe fell back against the pillows. The mattress dipped, and she heard the soft impact of clothes hitting the floor.

  Kishon crawled back between her legs, and without opening her eyes, she hooked one hand around the back of his neck and used the other to feel every ridge of his abs. His hard length pulsed between them, teasing at her opening, and when she’d had her fill of tracing his body, she reached down and took him in her hand. He made a low noise in the back of his throat.

  Same, Chloe thought. I feel the same.

  She guided him into her, and the very thought of what she was doing knocked the breath from her lungs. Kishon set the rhythm, driving her back into the pillows, and Chloe lost herself in the contrast of it all. Soft pillows. Hard muscles. Fluffy sheets. Powerful thrusts. The pleasure wound tighter and tighter, and then she felt Kishon’s hard muscles stiffen between her thighs. He came with an animal noise, his head buried in the side of her neck, and it was so hot it pushed her over the edge into a second echoing release.

  Real. So real. This can’t be fake, she thought dizzily.

  Chloe came down slowly, finding herself in Kishon’s arms.

  “How are you now?” The soft, questioning tone went straight to her heart.

  “I’m good.” She wriggled the tips of her toes, where she still felt the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Really good.”

  “Emotionally, though,” he said, tracing a fingertip over her cheek and pushing her hair out of her face. “Are you still all right with this? If this part of our arrangement is too much, I can make it easier. I can limit your duties, schedule you with a traditions tutor. Hannah worked with her.”

  She felt his attention settle over her like the fluffiest robe at a spa. He was caring for her. A shiver moved through her, and he held her closer.

  “I’m still good with it.” She breathed him in. “I am wishing I could have…one thing,” Chloe decided in the moment. “One thing that’s mine. Even if it’s fake.”

  “Anything you want,” Kishon said. “Name it, and it’s yours.”

  “The wedding dress.” She lifted a hand and ran it over his bicep, over his elbow, down to his wrist. “I’d like to pick the wedding dress myself.”

  “Wish granted.” Chloe heard the smile in his voice. It felt like sunshine, like a day at the beach. She could practically hear the waves on the sand. She slipped into the dream, feeling more content than she ever had.

  9

  The brothers and Matek stood together under a tulle wedding canopy in the lush royal gardens. Music floated over the scene from a string quintet near the entrance to the palace. All Kishon needed was for his bride to appear.

  “Are you positive you’re making the right choice?”

  Kishon kept a broad smile on his face while he looked over his shoulder at Chakir, who wore an expression somewhere between wild anticipation and dread. “You’re saying this to me now?”

  Matek was busy scanning the crowd, so he didn’t join in the line of questioning His security training never turned off, which was probably a good thing for all of them.

  “I don’t want to force anyone into making a decision that they wouldn’t otherwise make.” Chakir smiled back and patted Kishon’s shoulder.

  “I’m making the right choice.”

  “Kishon—”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Chakir hesitated, as if he might say something else, but he turned to Matek instead.

  Kishon hadn’t expected to feel so calm and collected about getting married when the moment came, fake or not. But Chloe—she had been a model fiancée. She’d taken all of it in stride. Being introduced to the elders. Wall-to-wall meetings with Hannah and Chakir, with Matek thrown into the mix when they had to plan palace security. A last-minute engagement party with five hundred elite guests from around Hamari.

  They’d been the center of attention for the last two weeks, and Chloe hadn’t faltered. She had been charming and attentive, and she had never once complained at the endless rounds of photographs and introductions, followed by more photographs and introductions.

  She knew how to please people. She knew which drink to suggest to the shipping magnate who worked closely with the royal family. She had instinctively connected that man’s wife with the fashion designer who had made her wedding dress, and the two women spent the rest of the enormous bridal shower scheming about a new business venture. Chloe had behaved…royally.

  She was, Kishon had to admit, going to make a very good wife before she slid into the background after Chakir’s wedding. The perfect wife, even. She had no political aspirations and wanted to spend her time working to improve the lives of the people.

  The perfect temporary wife.

  The ushers seated the last of the guests in the evening sun, enormous tulle banners hanging over them in a dreamlike cloud. Chloe’s mother and stepfather came down the aisle. They’d rushed passports and visas so they could make the ceremony, but they were flying back to the States as soon as the reception was over—her stepfather had a work engagement the following day. Kishon didn’t want to admit how relieved this made him feel. He liked them, the way he’d instantly liked Chloe, and some part of him recoiled from getting to know them better.

  He wasn’t going to think about that now. He was going to nod and smile at them and play the part of a groom with nothing to hide.

  Kishon caught the signal from the head usher. His heart boomed, a cannon only he could hear. The music paused, an expectant hush falling over the crowd, and then swelled into something bright and triumphant. The name of it had flown right out of his head, but every note seared itself into his memory, his vision seeming ultra-clear. Kishon noticed a program fluttering in a guest’s hand in the second row, the particular translucency of the white tulle against the sky, and the fit of his own shirt against his chest. They had opted for black tie, and his tuxedo had been tailored just for the occasion.

  Hannah came down the aisle first.

  It wasn’t supposed to matter this much. The emotion in him rose to a fever pitch.

  Chloe appeared at the end of the aisle, and Kishon’s breath caught in his throat.

  Her dress. Her dress. It had sleeves to her elbows, an elegant boat neck, and a skirt that seemed to have been directly inspired by the tulle banners overhead. The material floated in an ethereal fall a couple of inches above the ground. He became aware of a stinging in his eyes.

  Tears.

  He blinked them away, swallowing hard.

  Chloe made her way down the aisle, head held high, eyes on his. A long veil cascaded over her sunshine hair and her shoulders, trailing gently behind her.

  Kishon had always thought that if he found a woman he wanted to marry, their ceremony would follow every Hamari tradition. He had never imagined that he’d watch a woman like Chloe come down the aisle to him, beaming, in an American wedding dress that looked like a dream.

  She reached him, and her hand sliding into his did nothing to dispel the dreamlike sensation of the moment.

  “You’re beautiful.” He wasn’t prepared for how husky his voice sounded or the way her eyes shone with a matching set of tears.

  Kishon couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not when the ceremony began, officiated by one of the most prominent tribal leaders. Not when they exchanged vows. Chl
oe had written her own. She’d even, he discovered, asked Chakir for help with a few lines in Arabic. He was touched. She’d practiced, it was obvious, and her pronunciation was very good.

  His hands trembled as he slipped her wedding ring onto her finger. And when Chloe pressed the circle of gold over his knuckle, Kishon felt weak in the knees.

  “I take you to be my husband,” Chloe said.

  Husband. The word rang in his ears for a long time. Husband and wife.

  The music from the hall echoed against the hush of the hallway, a residual exhilaration humming along over his skin. Chloe held his hand tightly in hers as they left the reception. If it was possible, she looked even more beautiful than she had during the ceremony. The careful curl of her hair had come undone a bit during all the dancing, and her cheeks were flushed with the most gorgeous pink he had ever seen.

  She let out a long, happy sigh. “I think that’s the first time I’ve taken a real breath all day,” she said.

  “I know just how you feel.”

  He squeezed her hand.

  She squeezed back.

  “Weddings,” she said knowingly.

  “Weddings,” he agreed.

  But they weren’t a couple coming back from just any wedding. It had been their wedding, and as much as he told himself it was fake, the air still felt weighted with meaning.

  They arrived at the door to his rooms. “Home sweet home,” Chloe said, and she reached for the door handle.

  “Wait.”

  He pulled her hand back and scooped her into his arms, the fabric of her dress bundling underneath her.

  She giggled. “What are you doing?”

  “The Western tradition,” he said. “Carrying my new bride across the threshold.”

  He opened the door and felt her hold her breath. The moment seemed to shine. If time was a precious jewel, this one glittered in front of him like the world’s rarest diamond.

  Kishon stepped across the threshold.

  “Oh,” Chloe said, and then she was speechless.

  He’d had the main room decorated with falls of tulle, just like in the garden. Flickering candles graced every surface. White rose petals formed a path from the front door, curving away down the hall.

 

‹ Prev