The Sheikh's Pretend Fiancée (The Sharif Sheikhs 1)

Dismounting him, she ignored his demands to return to him, and she flipped her body until she could wrap her hands around his cock.

“Liyah,” he said in a strangled voice. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see how you taste,” she whispered as she flung his words back at him. Before he could object, she leaned down and licked him from base to tip, reveling as his whole body jerked in response.

“Fuck,” he groaned. Still, he couldn’t just enjoy it. Instead, he lifted her hips until she straddled his shoulder, and then he slid that talented tongue over her clit until they were both rocking against each other, struggling to make the moment last. The night drew on as her pleasure became so intense that she had to stop, and then he patiently waited for her to regain her bearings. Over and over again, they teased, until their bodies could take no more. As he plunged his tongue deep inside her, she took him in as deep as she could, her moan vibrating around him.

“Four,” he hissed, and then he spilled himself inside her. She had no idea how he found the strength, but he managed to lift her and turn her.

In that moment, she knew only one thing for certain.

She was ensnared.

Bathed in the flow of sweat and pleasure, their juices mingling between her thighs, she fell against him and had only one question as she fell asleep.

Was he?

10

There were more events, more mixers, more people to woo, but things were different between them. He no longer held that tightness in his chest for fear that she would turn an angry gaze toward him. She no longer stiffened under his touch when they were in public. She was relaxed and at ease with him, and he felt something that he wouldn’t quite identify.

The nights were long and hot. It was a wonder either one of them could function at all with the lack of sleep. He didn’t ask her to his bed—sometimes they didn’t even make it that far. As soon as they stepped into their suite, he had her in his arms, and he kissed her like a desperate man. The couch. The kitchen counter. The shower. At one point, he would have ordered the driver to leave so he could simply take her in the car, but she was too embarrassed.

Asad roamed every inch of Liyah’s body. He learned all her curves, committing them to memory so that even if he lost his sight, he’d still be able to please her—and there were nights when she got the better of him. They pushed. They pulled, and sometimes—just sometimes—he forgot that it wasn’t real.

When she’d collapsed in his bed next to him, completely asleep, he kissed her shoulder and watched her chest rise and fall. “You’re mine,” he whispered in the dark.

She stirred but didn’t wake.

“Things are different,” Amira declared to Liyah as they roamed the local festival in a neighboring city. Huge, colorful tents held the most intricate handmade wares. Men juggled swords and swallowed flames, and women danced seductively to the entrancing music. Liyah was thrilled to be there, and she loved Amira’s company, but she couldn’t help but think that Asad would have enjoyed it as well.

“What do you mean?” She glanced down at the black pants and sophisticated cream top that Amira had insisted she wear. “I mean, I know I usually wear jeans, but you picked this out.”

“Not your clothes,” Amira laughed. “You and Asad. He’s taken with you.”

There was a note of protectiveness in her voice, but it wasn’t for Asad.

It was for Liyah. She and Amira had grown close over the last couple of weeks, and Liyah was grateful. There were times when she thought she might lose her mind.

“It’s just an act,” Liyah reminded her. “Remember?”

“No, there’s something different. Others might not see it, but I do. You must be careful, Liyah. I know my brother well. He mustn’t consider you fully won,” she continued.

“Amira, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Liyah protested, even as she knew that she was blushing. If only Amira really knew what was going on between the two of them. She might put an end to it right then and there, knowing full well that one of them was going to get hurt.

That Liyah was going to get hurt.

“You’re honest, despite this arrangement. You'll have to inspire him to be the same, but it’s unlikely to happen if your eyes slip closed at the wrong moment. Men need fear to weigh against, for them to know the value of their bonds. Anyone can throw away a possession . . .”

Liyah knew that Amira didn’t mean to be hurtful, but her stomach tightened in knots. She was already wide open for Asad. It felt natural to love him and to let him love her, but Amira’s words of caution reminded her that their arrangement was anything but natural.

It was business, and even though she might want more, chances were good that Asad didn’t. Was it too late to close herself off to him, to keep him at bay until the arrangement was over?

Doubtful. Her body responded to the mere mention of his name.

“You’re imagining things,” Liyah said finally, forcing a smile. “Asad is surrounded by beautiful women every day. If he wanted a real relationship, he’d choose one of them. Not me. I know that you’re concerned, but you have nothing to worry about.”

Amira looked at her as though she didn’t believe her, but Liyah knew the one person she really needed to convince was herself.