The Sheikh's Christmas Maid Read online

  With the touch of her tongue, the danger outside fell away, and he thought only of the perfect creature undulating under him. As he explored her warm, silky mouth, he thought only of what he desperately wanted to do to her.

  “Ah, Poppy,” he whispered as he pulled back and stared at her. “You drive me crazy. I can’t wait to explore you. I want to lick and suckle every inch of your body until I discover what makes you moan and scream.”

  She bit her bottom lip and squirmed under him. Grounding his erection against her, he leaned down and gently scraped his teeth along the crook of her neck. Moving his hands up farther, he teased her erect nipples over her bra until she arched into his touch.

  God, he wanted her to beg. He wanted her to know that he was the man who could make her body ache with desire. A feeling of possession like he’d never known swept through him. Sliding down her body, he lifted her shirt and was fully prepared to get rid of that pesky bra when the door suddenly swung open.

  Tensing, he whirled around to protect Poppy. Melka stood on the other side, an angry scowl on his face. “False alarm,” he said in a tight voice. “It was only the grounds keeper.”

  “Taj?” Poppy gasped as she scrambled away from Samir. “Is he okay? Did you hurt him?”

  “He’ll live.”

  Poppy jumped to her feet and ran from the room. Samir couldn’t help but feel jealous when he watched her go. He prayed that Taj was old or ugly.

  Samir didn’t share.

  “Sheikh, I don’t like this,” Melka muttered. “We don’t know anything about her, and your father ordered that you were to have no contact with anyone until we knew that it was safe.”

  “She’s a maid,” Samir growled. “She’s not a spy. You’ve got to relax.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  Samir’s eyes widened when he heard the coldness in his guard’s voice. He and Melka had been together for a long time, and while he knew the man was deadly in his own right, this was the first time he’d ever experienced a hint of that violence.

  “Melka, you may answer to my father when we’re at the palace, but when we’re here, you answer to me. Poppy is not dangerous, and I’m not going to stay away from her. There’s something about her…” his voice trailed off, and he shook his head. “We’re not going to have this discussion again.”

  Striding past him, he jogged down the stairs to get a good look at this groundskeeper.

  7

  Poppy tried to get Taj to spend the night, but he rebuffed her. Apparently, he’d wanted to make sure the generator was working in case the electricity went out. He had driven up in a snowplow, so Poppy felt a little easier about letting the old man leave. He looked like he was pushing eighty, but he was as strong as an ox.

  When Samir came downstairs, she quickly bade everyone good night and tried to walk as calmly as possible to her room. Her hands shook as she gently closed the door, and she leaned against it, eyes closed. The ghostly imprint of his touch still tantalized her, and she tried desperately to push the memory away.

  It did no good. She still felt the delicious weight of his body pressing against her and the promise of his erection sliding between her legs.

  I want to lick and suckle every inch of your body until I discover what makes you moan and scream.

  Poppy had no doubt that he would be capable of doing just that.

  “No,” she whispered fiercely. “No, no, no, no.” She would not give in to him. She was better than that. She was classier than that. She didn’t fuck her employers, and she certainly didn’t fuck playboys who spent their whole lives drinking and bedding any pretty woman that walked past them. After all, wasn’t that the whole reason why he was here?

  Unable to deny herself any more, she stripped off her clothes and slipped between the sheets of her small bed. Closing her eyes, she imagined Samir leaning over her and pressing his lips to her neck again. She moved her hands over her chest to flick lightly at her nipples. Moaning softly, she continued to play with herself.

  Imagining that it was Samir’s hands, she moved them over her flat abdomen until she felt the juices slicked over her pussy. Moving her thumb over her clit, she whispered his name and twisted her hips helplessly under her own touch. Finally, she took a deep breath and slid a finger inside herself.

  What would it feel like to have Samir’s lips on her clit? Tonguing her? Nipping at her? What would it feel like when he slid his cock inside her?

  “Please,” she whispered as she stroked her fingers faster. Thrusting against her own touch, she flicked her thumb over her clit until the orgasm washed over her. Aware that she was moaning loudly, she pulled her hand back and buried her face in the pillows. Although she was alone, shame washed over her.

  What was wrong with her? She wasn’t the kind of woman to let a man control her like this, but Samir was taking over her thoughts.

  Squeezing her legs shut, she reminded herself that she was in control. She couldn’t do anything to jeopardize her job. If she were going to make it through graduate school, she’d need all the money she could save.

  Pleasuring herself behind closed doors was one thing, but she would not give in to Samir Shadid.

  When sleep finally claimed her, Samir thrusting inside her pervaded her dreams all-night long.

  Poppy awoke with her alarm clock. Unlike yesterday, when she stole into the kitchen, the only person who greeted her was Melka. He surveyed her coldly as she started making coffee. The big man stayed quiet, but she felt the judgment in his stare. Taking a deep breath, she handed him a coffee mug and tried to give him a big smile.

  “I’m claustrophobic,” she said weakly. “I was struggling with being in the room yesterday, and Samir was trying to comfort me. Things got a little out of hand, but it won’t happen again.”

  “Sheikh Shadid,” he said harshly.

  Taken aback, Poppy blinked. “What?”

  “You may not be a native of this country, but you are living here, and you are employed by the Sheikh’s family. He is royalty, and you will address him as such. He is not Samir. He is Sheikh Shadid. I do not know what your endgame is, and I do not care. He fucks women like you and discards them on a daily basis. Just because he’s trapped in here with you does not make your chances of using him any better than all the other whores.”

  “How dare you!” Poppy snapped.

  “One word to Sheikh Jibreel Shadid, and you’re fired Ms. Milenne. I’ll toss you out in that snow before you have a chance to pack.”

  Humiliated, she stepped back and clamped her mouth shut. Gripping her empty coffee mug, she turned and faced the window. He continued to stare at her, and when she finally had her temper under control, she turned back to him.

  “Mr. Fehisa, right? I’m not a whore, and I won’t let you stand there and treat me like one. I need this job, and I would appreciate it if you did not threaten me. I get that you want to protect him, and I can tell that you care for him. Whatever happens while he’s here, believe me when I tell you that I know my place. He’s royalty. I’m a maid. This job pays well and I’m trying to make money to go back to school. I’m not putting down roots here. I’m not trying to take advantage of him.”

  Pleased that she’d said her piece, she firmly set her mug down. “I have work to do, and I would appreciate it if you weren’t here in the kitchen when I did it. I’ll let you know when breakfast is ready.”

  Melka poured his coffee and silently left the kitchen. Her hands were still shaking, but she felt marginally better. It didn’t sit well that Melka thought she was some gold-digging whore.

  Whipping up a quick breakfast, she scarfed a plate down and waited. When no one came down to eat, she put a plate on a tray and carried it up to his room.

  “Samir?” she called out softly as she knocked. “I’ve got breakfast here for you.”

  When he didn’t immediately answer, she bent down to leave it at the door for him, but it swung open. Samir stood on the other side wearing only a towel slung low about his waist a
nd a cocky grin. Before she could stop him, he grabbed the tray with one hand and her arm with the other. Pulling her in the room, he set the food on the dresser, shut the door, and pressed her up against him.

  “Samir,” she gasped and quickly averted her eyes. “I only came to bring you breakfast.”

  Despite trying not to look, the image was seared into her brain. He had a chiseled chest with water still dripping from his sculpted pecs. Above the towel was a perfect six-pack and the sexy v that led to the secrets hidden under the towel. She ached to reach out and touch him, but instead, she pressed the palms of her hands to the door.

  “I’m more than ready to eat,” he whispered. “But what I want is not on that tray.”

  Poppy’s pussy grew damp, and she clenched her muscles. “The only thing that’s available for you is on that tray.” Her voice was stronger than she expected it to be, and it gave her the confidence to meet his eyes. The scorching heat and the promise of ravishment in his gaze was almost her undoing.

  “I find it hard to believe that your little solo act last night was enough to satisfy you. I bet you have a large appetite.” At his words, Poppy gasped, and that small sensual grin widened. “Oh, yes. I stopped by your room to make sure that you were okay, and I heard your moans. I had nothing but erotic dreams of you last night. Want to hear the details?”

  God, yes, she wanted to hear the details. She wanted to know every position that he wanted her in. Swallowing hard, she pressed her hands against his naked chest. Ignoring the smoothness of his skin, she gently pushed him away. “What happened last night in the safe room is not going to happen again, Sheikh Shadid. We’ve established that there’s chemistry between us. It would be fruitless for me to deny it, but you are my boss. You’re also royalty. That means that whatever dreams we’re having at night are going to have to stay only in our imagination.”

  Samir actually looked annoyed when he backed up. “How many times do I have to tell you that your job is not in jeopardy?”

  “It’s not only my job. I’m not the kind of woman who sleeps with random men. I haven’t had sex in two years, and…”

  “Two years?!” His jaw dropped and he stared at her. “Please tell me that you’re kidding.”

  “I’m not kidding,” she said as her cheeks flushed. “I have other goals in mind, and sleeping around won’t help me get there. I would appreciate it if this could be the last conversation that we have on the subject. Now, please enjoy your breakfast. I’ve got a few things on my list, and this evening, if we’re not interrupted, we can trim your Christmas tree.”

  “This is not going to be our last conversation, Poppy,” he said softly as she turned away from him. “I think we both know that.”

  Her morning chores kept her busy, and thankfully, Samir stayed out of her way. She caught sight of him a few times, deep in conversation with Melka, and she saw the bodyguard on the phone a few times. Whomever he was talking to didn’t seem to make him very happy.

  Taj had pulled the generator out last night and set it up, but he’d left the shed door open. Bundling up, she pushed out in the snow, grateful for the distraction from her erotic thoughts that played like a movie reel in her head. Another few inches had covered the path that she and Samir had shoveled the day before, and the snow was still falling at a light but steady pace.

  The shed was filled with dirty boxes and equipment. Taj had pulled a bunch of things out to get to the generator and had left everything out. Either he was in more pain than he wanted to admit or the fight with Melka made him forget. Sighing, she bent down to grab the first box to haul it into the shed. Unfortunately, the bottom had soaked in the wet snow all night and the bottom fell out. Poppy shrieked as random garden figurines fell out the bottom.

  “Garden gnomes? Really?” she grumbled through gritted teeth. Tossing the box aside, she toed statues with her boot and scanned the shed for places to put them, spying some plastic storage containers stacked inside each other. At least she could transfer everything from the wet cardboard to sturdier packaging.

  The storage containers were all the way in the back. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the steering wheel of the riding lawn mower and stepped on the tire, hauling herself up. From there, she could step on the seat and move to the next equipment. The air compressor was sturdy under her weight, but there was nothing else for her to grab from there. Holding her hands out to balance herself, she bit her bottom lip and glanced around at the boxes, unsure if they would hold her weight.

  “It’s either this or you go inside and make lunch for Sheikh Shadid,” she muttered to herself. Taking a deep breath, she stepped on the first box and closed her eyes tightly. When it didn’t immediately collapse under her, she pushed herself over and swung her other leg around to support her body on the cinder block ledge. Pleased with herself, she grabbed the bright red storage containers and tossed them behind her. Just as she turned herself around to make her way back to the door, it slammed shut and plunged her into darkness.

  “No!” she shouted. In her haste to reach the door, her foot slipped, and she tumbled. Her body hit the sharp edge of something, and pain lanced through her side. The tower of boxes fell around her, and Poppy shrieked.

  Feeling the wall of crap surrounding her, her breath grew short. She was trapped in the darkness, and no one knew that she was out here.

  8

  Focus on your breaths.

  In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

  The walls are not closing in on you.

  In. Out. In. Out. In.

  The shortness of breath is just your imagination.

  In. Out. In. Out.

  You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.

  In. Out. In.

  Oh God. You’re going to die.

  Poppy had no idea how much time passed. Coldness seeped through her jacket and logic told her that she needed to get moving. She needed to get her blood circulating, but fear had frozen her. The objects around her were moving, pressing, closing, threatening to crush her to death. The oxygen in the shed was growing thin.

  No. That couldn’t be true. The shed wasn’t sealed. She had plenty of air. She needed to stay calm.

  “Poppy! Poppy, where the hell are you?”

  The voice sounded a million miles away. She opened her mouth to answer, to scream, but nothing came out but a body-wracking sob.

  “Help. Please help.” Her voice cracked, barely coming out as a whisper. Why couldn’t she shout for help?

  “Poppy!”

  Suddenly, the door opened with a loud creak, and light spilled in. Oxygen filled her lungs, and she inhaled deeply. The imaginary crushing walls were cardboard boxes again, and her body was frozen from the cold rather than fear.

  “Poppy. I can hear you breathing, but I can’t see you. Tell me that you’re okay.”

  “I’m okay,” she croaked. “I think I’m trapped.”

  “I’m coming, habibti.”

  Poppy started moving as much of her body as possible. Closing and opening her fingers. Wiggling her toes. Anything to get the blood flowing. Samir threw things aside and climbed over equipment to get to her. Finally, the boxes towering over her were lifted, and he pulled her roughly to her feet.

  Wrapping her in his arms, he squeezed her tight. “Poppy, you’ve been gone for an hour. What happened? Why did you come out here without me?”

  “Cold,” she whispered in his ear. “So cold.”

  “Fuck. Of course, you’re cold. I’ve got you.”

  He lifted her easily in his arms, and Poppy buried her face in his neck as he climbed over the equipment and carried her out. Although she knew her face must have been freezing, he didn’t even shudder as she did her best to steal his warmth.

  Before she knew it, they were in the house. He didn’t release her as he climbed the stairs. She tried to push away from him, but his grip only tightened.

  “Samir,” she protested weakly. “I should take a shower.” As if proving her point, her teeth chattered.


  “Where do you think I’m going, habibti?”

  His shower? He was taking her to his shower? She knew it wasn’t a good idea, but she felt so good in his arms that she didn’t fight him anymore. It wasn’t until she was in his bathroom that he finally put her down.

  Leaning over, he turned the water on before he straightened and unzipped her coat. “It’s just going to be lukewarm water for now,” he said almost apologetically. “We need to warm your body up slowly.”

  Her arms hung limp by her side as he pushed the jacket off her body. Next, he tugged off her gloves and unwrapped the scarf from her neck. She saw the tick in his jaw as he pulled at the bottom of her sweatshirt.

  “Someone shut the door,” she whispered. “I didn’t do it.”

  “No one else was out there, Poppy. It was probably the wind. You aren’t going back out there again without me. That’s an order.”

  An order? The sweatshirt pulled over her head, taking her tank-top underneath with it. Her body started to warm on its own as he reached for her jeans. His eyes searched hers, as though asking for permission, and she didn’t stop him.

  “It’s a good thing that the shed was insulated,” he said as he averted his gaze. “Otherwise you’d be a Popsicle.” Even though he cracked a smile, his voice was humorless.

  When she stood only in her underwear, he turned and tested the water. “Okay, I think it’s warm enough now. When your body starts to warm up, you can make it gradually hotter.”

  “Wait,” Poppy said suddenly. “Don’t leave me.”

  He froze. “You had a scare, Poppy. I know that you need someone to comfort you, but I’m not that man. I don’t comfort women.”

  “I don’t need you to comfort me,” she whispered. Feeling brazen, she lowered her black panties and unclipped the matching bra. “I need you not to leave me alone.”