The Sheikh's Christmas Maid (Shadid Sheikhs 1)

After they finished shoveling the walkway, Poppy rolled her shoulders to ease her aching muscles and unzipped her jacket. The snow that had settled on her as they worked was rapidly melting in the warm house as she slipped her jacket off and hung it on the coatrack. Stomping her feet, she kicked her boots off leaving them on the tray by the door. She knew that Samir was still watching her. “Thank you for your help,” she said in a monotone voice. “I’ll start the laundry if you want to take a shower to warm up.”

“Don’t you want to take a shower?”

She did, to ease her muscles, but there was too much to do if she was going to finish in time to help Samir with the tree. It was already close to noon. “I don’t need a shower. I’m going to make a quick cup of tea.”

Leaving him to go upstairs, she put the kettle on the stove and ducked into the laundry room. Samir hadn’t even bothered to put one of the baskets of sheets into the washer. Sighing in frustration, she bent over to open the door when she felt something warm press up against her.

Stiffening, Poppy felt Samir’s hands wrap around her waist. “I have a better idea,” he said in a husky voice.

“Your highness,” Poppy said sharply as she straightened. “I thought you were going to behave yourself since I answered your question.”

“Call me Samir, and I promised to behave while we were shoveling snow. And I wasn’t trying to misbehave. This laundry room is small,” he said with an innocent smile.

Narrowing her eyes, she leaned against the machine. “And that idea that you had?”

“I thought you could teach me how to use the washing machine. One day, my life may depend on me using this. Poppy, I am placing myself in your capable hands.”

“Name one instance where your life will depend on using a washing machine.”

Samir grinned. “Someone might put a gun to my head and threaten to shoot me if I don’t correctly wash their delicates.”

“Delicates? Your shooter is a woman?”

“Jealousy is a dangerous emotion.”

Fighting the urge to smile, Poppy turned and opened the door. Loading two sets of sheets into the washer, she shut the door and pulled out the tray. “All washers are different. With older models, you pour the detergent right into the washer, but these new ones have special places. As you can see, they’re carefully labeled. Detergent. Fabric softener. Bleach.” Giving him a side look, she smirked. “You’ll have to ask your gun-toting, jealous woman whether she wants fabric softener with her delicates.”

Pouring a capful of detergent, she closed the tray. “Next, it’ll ask how much water you want to use, how hot you want the water, how long you want the cycle, and how rough you want it.”

“I imagine with sheets, you want it pretty rough

, right?” Samir asked in a silky voice.

“Jesus,” she gasped. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Biting her lip to keep from smiling, she set the washer and turned it on. Turning, she found herself trapped between Samir and the rumbling machine behind her. “You have time to take that shower now, if you want it.” She silently chastised herself for sounding breathless.

He put his arms out and trapped her. “We have time to take that shower together,” he said softly as he leaned down. Knowing full well that he was about to kiss her, her heart hammered in her chest. He gave her time to say no and turn her head, but she was too tempted to taste him.

One kiss, she thought to herself. Just one kiss, and then she would avoid him at all cost.

“Oh, Poppy,” he muttered as he brushed his lips across her. “You have no idea how crazy you’re making me, do you?”

Unable to help herself, she parted her lips, and Samir took advantage. The world stopped as he stroked her with his tongue, exploring her, turning her head. Poppy couldn’t stop herself from winding her arms around his neck before running her fingers through his hair, and pressing her body against him. His hardness was evident, and she moaned.

“Ahem.”

The sound of Melka clearing his throat broke them apart. Completely taken aback by how easily she’d succumbed to Samir, she touched her lips and stared at him. Color stained her cheeks, and even he looked a little dazed.

Suddenly, the kettle whistled, and Poppy took the opportunity to run past him and escape into the kitchen.

“Poppy,” he called after her. “I think we should keep the tree.” If he forced her to enjoy some holiday traditions, he’d have an excuse to spend more time with her.

It wasn’t like there was anything else to do around here.

Samir breathed deeply and shook his head. “Melka, my friend, we really need to talk about your timing.”

“I didn’t realize that you’d be moving so quickly,” his guard said wryly. “You haven’t even been here twenty-four hours, and you already have your tongue down her throat.”

Rubbing his chest and trying to come to grips with how amazing the kiss was, he could only grin. “There is just something about her, Melka. What’s going on?”