The Sheikh’s Contract Fiancée Read online

  “I know this.” He raced in front of her to the elevators and faced her, searching out her gaze. “Trust me, I know. We’re not having kids. You don’t even have to look at me if you don’t want.” He held up his hands, surrendering. “This is a process, and it won’t be easy.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, cinching the creamy fabric over her breasts.

  “This was the meet and greet. It’s the only thing on the agenda until the next meeting with the board in two days.” He paused, weighing the idea that had been percolating inside him since he woke up that morning. “Why don’t we get out of town for now, do some sightseeing, and work on the game plan? Now that we know what he expects, we can figure out how to work with it.”

  Annabelle sighed, gaze fastened to the ground. She pouted a little before she said, “Yeah. I think that’s probably a good idea. As long as wherever you take me is better than the inside of that office.”

  Imaad pushed the down button, ideas springing to life. “Oh, yeah. Definitely better than that.”

  7

  Annabelle sat in the plush armchair in the hotel lobby, her toes wiggling as she waited for Imaad to show up. It was like skittishly waiting for a high school date, except the chaperone was just the driver, and their destination was almost certainly not going to be the mall.

  Imaad refused to tell her the plan, only that she needed a change of comfortable clothes, long pants, and some shoes that weren’t heels. She’d stuffed the few items into her oversized purse, which sat at her feet now. She couldn’t rip her gaze from the automatic sliding doors of the main entrance.

  Imaad’s hotness only added to her confusion. If this were any other country, any other circumstance, she would have her legs wrapped around Imaad by now, head thrown back in ecstasy, demanding he teach her how to say “sex kitten” in Farsi.

  But she had to keep those thoughts at bay. Something about Imaad was extremely inviting, like a warm hug after being out in the snow. She wanted more of him, on a visceral level, as if her cells responded to him before her brain even recognized he was there.

  She couldn’t bone her fake husband. That wasn’t allowed. It would only muddy this already murky situation. She had to uphold the integrity of this business deal…whatever shreds remained of it.

  The doors slid open, and Imaad strolled in, trendy sunglasses on his face, his boyish grin snagging her from across the lobby. She popped to her feet, voice caught in her throat. Damn this man. He sauntered toward her like a GQ model, pure casual airs and relaxed fit clothing, one hand buried in the pocket of his dark chinos.

  “You ready?” He slid his glasses on top of his head when he approached, his dark chocolate eyes glinting.

  “I suppose.” She shrugged her purse over her shoulder, unnerved by how attracted she was to him. Seriously unfair. He stood a whole head taller than her, and that broad chest would feel great under her fingertips. “Do I get to know where we’re going now?”

  “Nope.” He led the way out of the hotel, and they resumed their familiar positions inside his private car. “You’re just going to have to wait and find out.”

  An hour later, after the city highways turned to two-lane roads and then into dusty paths, they were firmly in the desert. The earth stretched out sunburnt red all around them, tiny sprouts of plants making scarce appearances.

  “Wow.” She couldn’t look away. An occasional road sign guided them, but beyond that, it was easy to think they could just drive off over the horizon and never find their way back. “This is so desolate.”

  “Very few people live out here.” Imaad squinted past her, surveying the same horizon. “This is Dasht-e Kavir. The Great Salt Desert.”

  She gasped. “This is all salt?”

  He nodded. “Salt and sand.”

  The car slowed, and Annabelle noticed they were nearing a stable up ahead. A few men were gathered around camels. Annabelle raised a brow.

  “Are we getting on those?”

  Imaad grinned devilishly. “Of course.”

  The car came to a stop and Annabelle pushed the door open, a hot blast of sandy air greeting her. It took her a moment to acclimate, then she scuffed through the hard, sandy soil, following Imaad toward the men.

  There was a short exchange in Farsi, and then a man with a headscarf led them to the waiting camels. Imaad slung his sporty backpack over his shoulders and then mounted the camel like he’d been doing it since birth. Annabelle blinked up at him, shielding her eyes against the sun.

  “You seriously expect me to get on this?” She pointed at the camel nearby who eyed her suspiciously.

  “Up you go.” He nodded toward the men, who approached to help her on. Before she knew it, strong hands lifted her up, and then she was grasping the bloated bump of the saddle, shrieking from the top of the camel.

  “Holy shit.” She clung to the saddle hump, body tense. The men loaded her purse in the saddlebag, and then handed her a silky scarf, gesturing that she wrap it around her head like theirs. Imaad received one as well, and she followed his lead by wrapping it over her face. The creature lurched into motion. She squeezed her legs around its warm body, screaming once.

  Imaad looked back at her, grinning like a fool. “Don’t tell me this is your first camel ride.”

  She grimaced, watching the tawny neck of the beast as it lumbered forward, wondering if it even wanted to be carrying her. “Where the hell am I going to ride a camel in New York City, Imaad?”

  His soft chuckle made her body buzz. He looked like a natural on his mount. They plodded forward, and after a few gasps and some rearranging to her woman parts, she thought maybe she could get used to it. Maybe.

  Annabelle looked around. They were on their own out here. “Why didn’t the other guys come with us? Are we allowed to be out here by ourselves?”

  Imaad laughed again. “Of course. It’s the desert. We can go anywhere we want.”

  “But not too far, right?” Nervousness prickled through her. Was this a game to him? Throw the type-A girl into the salt desert, one day after she found out she’d been promised in marriage against her will?

  “I’ve been coming to this desert since I was a boy. My grandfather brought me. You don’t have to worry.” He looked back at her, his easy grin soothing. “I’m as experienced a guide as they come.”

  She nodded, looking around. Her grandpa had taken her to a water park once or twice. Nothing that doubled as the set for Aladdin. “That’s cool. You look pretty natural on the camel, too. You must be a pro.”

  They fell into a quiet rhythm, the lurching of the camel beneath her, the hot sun beating down, occasional fragments of conversation that felt more like two friends than their bizarre real-life situation. She watched, licking her lips, as Imaad’s hips rhythmically shifted in the saddle. Damn. Not a smart idea. Now she wouldn’t be able to stop imagining him making those moves above her.

  After a pleasant ride broken only by the huffing of the camel and the infrequent blast of the hot breeze, a tent emerged on the horizon. Imaad pointed.

  “That’s where we’re going. This is something not a lot of tourists get to see. It’s an oasis. I thought you might like it.”

  Like a mirage, a large pond emerged on the horizon, glittering blue in the sunlight. Sprigs of green surrounded it, and sandy dunes lined the oasis on almost all sides. An upscale Bedouin-style tent sat, flaps pulled back, the dark brown fabric peaking in the center, overlooking the oasis. Tortured rusty landscape yawned away from the oasis in every direction. The camp was the only sign of civilization.

  “This is certainly off the beaten trail.” Annabelle pushed her sunglasses higher up on her nose. For how blazingly hot it was, she was sweating only minimally. Her flowy long-sleeve shirt had been a good choice. Though she wondered if stripping to nothing later on would be a good choice. The throbbing between her legs said it might be.

  Her gaze drifted back to the tight apples of Imaad’s ass. She wanted to touch it. Just once. As they approached the
tents, Imaad stilled both camels. He dismounted first and then came to her side, smiling up at her.

  “Ready to get off your first camel?”

  She chewed at her bottom lip. “Maybe if you have a crane somewhere around here.”

  Imaad said something to the camel in Farsi, and the beast knelt down. It was somehow regal. “Come on.” He held up his hands. “I’ll help you off.”

  She reached for a hand, steadying herself as she shifted her center of gravity. His hands slid to her waist as she swung a leg over the saddle, his touch scorching through her. She drew a shaky breath and then slowly ceded control. He lowered her to the ground softly, his breath coming out in a soft puff at her forehead.

  “Not so bad, was it?” He jerked his head toward the tent but she couldn’t look away from the black stubble on his jawline. “Let’s go make some dinner.”

  8

  Annabelle leaned back on her hands, gazing up at the dusky sky. The sun was setting in brilliant crests of shocking red and burnt orange, a heavy layer of cobalt night sky threatening at the edges.

  “This is the grand finale,” Imaad said. He sat cross-legged in his chinos, impeccably handsome in this rustic setting. He’d laid out an enormous blanket over the sand, big enough for them to lie on. Their tent sat several dozen yards away, a small fire lit near the edge of the camp site.

  “And here I thought that stew you made for dinner was the whole reason we came out here.” She grinned up at the sky, enjoying the drop in temperature. Imaad had warned her it would get cool at night, but their tent was loaded up with blankets and even separate mattresses.

  “The stew I reheated,” he clarified. “A very talented chef named Padideh made that stew.”

  She laughed, stretching her legs out over the sand. It still burned a little in the waning heat, as if it had been super-packed with warmth through the long desert day. The sky blazed before them, a spectacular display of colors illuminating the scorched, salty earth. The dry salt flats had crusted patterns in them, geometrical designs like puzzle pieces carved from the salt.

  “This place is amazing.”

  “I thought you might like it.” Imaad scooped sand into his hand and then let it fall through his fingers, gaze fixed on the sky. “I like to come out here when I can. When I’m able to get away.”

  “You work a lot for your father.” She meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement.

  “Too much. I’m the youngest, so…”

  His words left question marks hanging in the air. “So?”

  He dragged a fingertip through the sand, drawing something known only to him. “So I have to work the hardest to be recognized.”

  As the sun sank below the horizon, tiny dots of stars followed in its wake.

  “I’m the only child,” she offered after a long stretch of silence. “But my father has never recognized me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was a love child,” she said, trying to make it sound light. “My parents never married. My father was in my life, but only when it suited him. I’m here because I’m his only blood relative and it’s something he needs for his business, not because he’s any sort of father to me.”

  “Surely he recognizes you,” Imaad said softly.

  “Not in the way you might hope.”

  A few moments passed before Imaad spoke again. “Looks like both our fathers use us as they see fit, then.”

  “You’ve got that right.” Annabelle hugged her knees to her chest. It might be the only thing they had in common.

  Darkness descended around them, stealthily fast, until night predominated, and the only remnant of the sunset was a distant burning strip at the edge of the Earth. When it faded, Imaad took a deep breath, tilting his head back up at the sky.

  “This is dessert,” he said. She tilted her head back to look and gasped. The sky was crammed with sparkling dots, so many stars that Annabelle got dizzy when she stared for too long. She blinked, searching out the horizon, looking for the grounding reference point of the tent.

  “Holy shit. I’ve never seen so many stars before.”

  “Lie back.” He leaned back onto the sand, resting his hands on his low belly. She did the same, gasping again as she took it all in.

  “Fuck,” was all she could say.

  In the quiet between them, the immensity of the sky bore down on her, made her feel breathless and exhilarated and excruciatingly small.

  “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier,” she blurted. The words had burbled up out of nowhere. She turned to look at him, using the dim outline of his body as her grounding rod. “This is a weird situation. I know it’s just as hard for you as for me.”

  Imaad pushed up onto an elbow and looked down at her. Her whole body prickled with expectation, the heat of him pouring over her in waves despite the now-chilly air. Once her eyes adjusted, she could see the sincerity on his face.

  “It’s not that hard,” he said softly, his fingers tracing invisible patterns in the sand next to her. “Not right now.”

  She grinned. “Yeah. Looking at the unfathomable universe isn’t so hard.”

  “No, I mean, with you.” His fingertips danced feather-light over her forearm, and her whole body lit up like a firework. He was hitting on her.

  Her pussy clenched with excitement. “So, you mean not being a raging bitch makes things easier?”

  He laughed, his fingertips dragging up her bicep, up over the curve of her shoulder. She shivered.

  “Things got easier when I stopped being an asshole,” he said, his voice coming out gravelly. He lowered his head, the centers of his eyes the same as the inky sky beyond. “May I kiss you?”

  All she could do was nod her head. Imaad pressed his mouth to hers, silky heat filling her, making her weak and gelatinous against the sand. The scent of him from so near was an aphrodisiac, as if Eau de Imaad could be bottled and sold worldwide.

  She made a little noise as they kissed, his velvety lips brushing over hers like a dream. His fingers slid up the side of her neck, pressing behind her ear, cementing her to her spot. They kissed until she broke for air, chest heaving as she struggled to process what was happening.

  “That was nice,” she said, drawing shaky breaths. “But we’re just pretending with this whole marriage thing, remember?”

  He didn’t move away from her, just stroked the side of her neck while he gazed deeply at her. “But some moments are just made for kissing.”

  A smile spread across her face. “Aren’t you just Mr. Romance?”

  Imaad kissed Annabelle the way he’d been dying to since the moment he laid eyes on her. The penetrating darkness made him bold—he certainly hadn’t planned to make out with her when arranging this trip—but more than that, something about Annabelle begged him to make a move.

  He pressed his tongue gently into her mouth, moaning low as she welcomed it, their tongues meeting hesitantly. In the distance, the fire crackled. He squeezed her hip, desperate to explore more of her as need overcame him.

  She pushed at his shoulder a little and he pulled back, breathing heavily.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” she whispered, but she didn’t sound convinced.

  “Why?”

  She searched his eyes for a moment. “It just seems wrong somehow. I don’t like mixing business and…pleasure.”

  He nodded, unable to move his hand from her hip. He searched her face for some sign that it might be okay to kiss her again, but none came. Squeezing her hip gently, he pulled away, lying back on the sand, desire thrumming through him.

  They lay in a tense silence, his heart pounding in his ears. Those kisses wouldn’t leave his lips. He could still smell her, taste her.

  He let his eyes drift shut, trying to calm down. When he opened his eyes to take in the sky again, she was above him, eyes wide and desirous.

  “I was just kidding,” she whispered, her hand knotting in the fabric of his shirt. “I actually really want you to keep kissing me.”
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  He grinned, cupping her face in his hands, pulling her down on top of him. She released a little noise, lips crushed against his. Needy kisses emerged, each one juicier than the last. He pulled her on top of him, the stickiness of their skin forming a seal. He wrapped his arms around her waist, the heat of her pulsing through him, his cock hard and seeking against the waistband of his chinos.

  “You kiss too good,” she whispered, tilting her head as he dragged his lips down the side of her face. “It’s not fair. I can’t say no.”

  “I can do other things even better.”

  She groaned, pushing up from him, locking her legs around his hips. By the faint light of the stars, he saw her grinning down at him.

  “Then maybe we should make this our actual dessert,” she said, smoothing her hands over his chest. “A little fun under the stars. A one-time event.”

  He moaned a little, grabbing her by the hips, pleased by the way she rocked on top of him. “How could I say no to that?”

  Her normally clear eyes were a dark abyss of desire, one that drew him in. Before he could even say anything, she tore her shirt off, revealing those heavy breasts encased in a satiny bra. He trailed his hands up the sides of her waist, fingertips drifting over the smooth fabric. She shivered as he cupped each breast. She was so much woman, and every part of her was divine.

  Annabelle was the stuff of his fantasies, and if she wanted to let her guard down for a night, he’d be there to catch her.

  A moment later her bra slid off, and he bolted upright, lips seeking a taut nipple. She moaned as he suckled at each breast, her flowery soap mingling with the scent of sand and sweat, a heady combination that rocked him with desire. He grunted as he flexed his hips beneath her, starting a slow roll, looking up at her for confirmation that she felt the hardness.

  Her voice shook. “God, that feels good.”

  He grinned, smoothing his hands over the swell of her ass, grabbing big handfuls. “We should take this off you.” He tugged at the belt loop of her jeans. “Right now.”