The Sheikh's Pregnant Fake Wife (Sheikh's Meddling Sisters 3) - Page 18

Raheem chuckled and gave him a dismissive wave, pulling his wife in for a deep kiss. Rehaj did the same with Ani. Isabella stared up at Feraz, torn between wanting to run away and wanting to leap into his arms and lick the salty sweat from his skin. Heaven help her, but the man was gorgeous. Even more so slicked with sweat and muscles glistening. He chugged half a bottle of water down then held out his hand to help her to her feet. Except, once she was standing, Feraz didn’t let her go, instead tugging her into him and capturing her lips with his.

Caught unawares, Isabella gasped and Feraz took advantage, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, his lips cool from the ice water. She shivered against him, awareness and desire like a riptide in her blood, threatening to pull her under. He groaned low and she was lost. Lost to sensation and lost in him. She would tell him the truth, she would. Just not now. Not until the time was right.

Feraz pulled back at last and blinked down at her, his dark eyes filled with passionate heat. “If my wife wishes, I believe we shall head back to our rooms now. I have need of a shower.”

His sisters all tittered and chattered amongst themselves, no doubt gossiping about their wanton brother and his wife. Isabella’s cheeks felt like they were on fire, along with the rest of her body, but when she hazarded a look around at the rest of the family, no one seemed to notice or care. They were all breaking off into their own little groups and heading off to their own business. Isabella slipped her arm around Feraz’s waist and let him lead her back into the air-conditioned glory of the palace.

“Okay?” he asked as they stood in the foyer once more. “You look a bit flushed.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine, I…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze ran over him once more—all tall, lean muscle and sexy as sin. She wasn’t ready to leave him yet, so she stalled. “I had a good time this afternoon. You’re a good basketball player.”

He tilted his head, gaze narrowed. “Thank you. Since when did you become a fan?”

Damn. She’d gotten so caught up in the fun and the game she’d forgotten Roxanne’s aversion to all things sports. Well, except Formula One racing, but that’s because most of the drivers were gorgeous and rich. She gave a little shrug. “Like I said, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands with the pregnancy. Not much on TV sometimes except sports. What else do you play?”

“Some soccer, also a bit of rugby, though I’m not very good.” He smiled again, slow and sensual. “I’ve got some old pictures from college in albums in my rooms, if you’d like to take a look. I need to shower, but you’re welcome to wait in my sitting area, if you like.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice, since now all she could picture was him naked and wet with water and soap suds sluicing down his body. Isabella bit back a moan and walked over to his side of the foyer. “Are you sure you won’t mind?”

“Having you in my suite?” His words were polite enough, but the look in his dark eyes was downright wicked. “Nothing would please me more, rohi.”

Feraz opened the door to his suite, then gestured for her to precede him inside. She did, finding his rooms the mirror opposite of hers, the interior decorated in shades of darker browns than her own beige and gold furnishings, but otherwise the same. He led her over to the sitting area, stripping off his sweat-soaked tank top on the way. She damned near tripped over her own feet. Yep, he was lethally beautiful. No doubt about it. Tanned and toned and that line of dark hair leading down the middle of his taut abs to disappear beneath the waistband of his gym shorts. She said a silent prayer for strength and forced her eyes away from temptation.

“The albums are over there in the bookshelves along the wall.” Feraz pointed to them

then turned away, heading for the bathroom. Before Isabella could look away, he tugged his shorts down as well, leaving him totally naked and totally unashamed. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, his small, confident grin making her insides quiver with lust. “Be out in a minute.”

Isabella stood for a long moment after he’d gone, just staring at the closed bathroom door as the sound of the shower running filled the room. Why in the world her sister would ever leave such a fine specimen of manhood behind, Isabella would never know. But one thing was certain, while she was here, while she was still his wife, and while things were still good and right and perfect between them, Isabella would take what she wanted for once in her life.

She would have Feraz in her bed.

Because he was already in her heart.

10

Ten minutes later when Feraz came out of the bathroom, Isabella was ready, having stripped off her clothes and climbed into his bed. Except when he walked out wearing nothing but a damp towel around his hips and a grin, her confidence evaporated along with her ability to speak.

He was magnificent, six-foot-plus of gorgeous male, and she felt bloated and lumpy and decidedly unattractive. Isabella resisted the urge to pull the covers over her head and hide when he strolled slowly toward her, that towel of his slipping precariously lower with each step.

“I see you have made yourself more than comfortable, rohi. I was hoping that you would.” He took a seat on the edge of the mattress, close enough for her to feel the heat of his bare skin and see the sheen of moisture left over from his shower. He smelled of soap and a hint of his woodsy cologne and though he wasn’t touching her at all yet, she felt utterly possessed by him. The heat in his dark eyes made her feel beautiful and wanted and treasured beyond belief.

At last he took her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her palm, then her inner wrist, slowly working his way up her arm to her elbow. “I have missed this between us. I have missed you so very much, rohi. I did not realize it until you were back with me. Over the last few days, I feel our connection has returned, and strengthened. Is it safe for you?”

Feeling drugged by the passion inside her, Isabella blinked at him, her brain taking a moment to comprehend his words through the fog of lust.

“Safe? You mean sex? Yes, both Dr. Phillips and Dr. Hassan said it was fine for now.” Heat prickled her cheeks, talking so openly about her needs. Not that she was a blushing virgin or anything, obviously, but she’d fantasized about Feraz and this moment for so long, it still didn’t seem quite real. “I figured we should take advantage of this while we still could. That is, if you want to…”

He growled low and leaned in closer to her, forcing her back into the pillows as he loomed above her, his warm mint breath fanning her face. “I want. I want so badly I ache.”

Then he was kissing her and stroking her and Isabella forgot all about her worries, her troubles, the truth of the situation that they’d have to face ahead—forgot about everything except this man, this moment, this incredibly special night with Feraz.

Removing his towel, he lowered the sheets away from her so they were both naked, then pulled her up to sit on the edge of the bed. Feraz knelt between her thighs, placing gentle kisses on her rounded belly before bending to nuzzle the slick folds between her legs. Between licks and kisses, he murmured, “I’ve wanted to taste you again since our kiss in the plane. I’ve missed the flavor of your arousal, the soft sound of your sighs. I’ve missed everything about you, my love.”

Isabella arched against him as he inserted first one, then two fingers inside her, stretching her for him while he tongued her swollen clit. Her fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him close, guiding him gently to where things felt best. Soon, she was teetering on the brink of climax. It had been so long, too long, since she’d been loved this way and she couldn’t hold back. She cried out as orgasm overtook her, her body clenching around his fingers as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

Feraz kissed her inner thighs then stood to climb onto the bed and stretch out on his back, head resting on his hands clasped behind his head, the picture of masculine indulgence. “Do with me what you will, wife.”

Isabella stared at him a moment, her gaze raking over him from top to bottom, lingering on the proud jut of his hard cock. She’d never been the aggressor in bed before, but he made her want to try all sorts of new things. Only trouble was, she had no idea how to start. “I, uh…”

Tags: Leslie North Sheikh's Meddling Sisters Billionaire Romance
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