The Sheikh's Reluctant American (The Adjalane Sheikhs 3)

“You’ve become very philosophical.” Nigella stepped closer. “Why don’t you try saying what you feel—instead of any kind of rehearsed speech.” She put her hands on his chest.

He sucked in a breath. “I cannot think when you touch me.”

Smiling, she nodded. “That’s a good start.”

Malid dipped his head, nuzzling her ear and whispering in her ear, “What I have to say is important.”

Nigella hummed and said, “Yes, so is this. Am I a distraction?”

“Of the best kind.” He pulled off her head scarf and tunic. She tugged off his shirt. “Nigella, I will want you forever.” He slipped one hand beneath the waistband of her trousers. She kissed his mouth and trailed kisses over his jaw line.

Quickly, he stripped her of her remaining clothing. Laying down, she spread herself on the pile of pillows, her white skin almost seeming to shimmer in the light. He pulled off his trousers and lay down next to her. Gripping her hips, he pulled her up onto him.

“Ride me,” he urged her, lifting her up slightly and then settling her over himself. He eased her down gently, and guided her movements until he couldn’t resist palming her breasts one more second.

She threw back her head and smiled. Slowly, hips moving, she brought her gaze back to his. He pulled her down to capture her lips with his own. She moaned into his mouth, and shivered, and his own orgasm took him in gentle waves that seemed to last a life time.

Nigella collapsed against his chest, her breathing fast and her body limp. Sweat slicked her skin, and Malid rubbed a hand down her back. “Nigella, you once told me you do not make leaps—you want careful decisions. But I am going to ask you now to leap.”

She turned to stare at him, her eyes wide and huge. He drew a finger down her cheek. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me? Will you camp with me in the desert and help me weather sandstorms? Will you help me figure out better ways of getting along with people? Will you…will you be part of my family?”

Nigella wet her lips, and Malid held his breath. She lifted one pale shoulder and ro

lled off him so she lay next to him. She trailed a fingertip over his chest. “You know I like to consider all angles.”

He frowned. “Yes. And what angles must you consider.”

“Well, do you like and want children?”

“Do you?”

“No fair—I asked first.”

He threw out a hand. “Yes, I want children.”

“Good. So do I. Two. What about my working?”

Impatient, he caught her hand and rolled up onto one elbow. “What about it? You wish to stop?”

“No…not when Daddy’s finally thinkin’ I can run the company.”

“Good. You have too much energy to waste it lounging around a palace.”

She laughed. “Does that mean I get my own palace?”

Malid rolled her over so that he was above her. He dipped his head and kissed her, then shifted, reaching to the low brass table. He pulled a silk wrap off the table and put it into her hands. She tugged open the knot and a sapphire ring of dark blue fell into her fingers. She gasped, and Malid said, “Not only a palace, but all the riches I can shower on you.”

He could see she was fighting a smile, but she shook her head, clutched the ring and asked, “You don’t think our fathers ever suspected this might happen when they put us in charge of these negotiations, do you? So they could get some grandbabies?”

Malid looked at her and laughed. Taking the ring from her, he held it out. “Let us hope they are not such manipulators, but I don’t care. If putting us together was their way of controlling us, I owe them gratitude.”

Nigella pushed her finger into the ring. She tilted her hand to make the gem sparkle, then settled herself across his chest. “Maybe we should send them a thank you card?”

“How about a wedding announcement?” He kissed her forehead, then her lips, and murmured against her lips, “Always and forever, Nigella. You have my soul in your hands. Enta habib alby w hayaty ya habibi. You are the love of my heart and my life, my love.”

Smiling, she slid her hand behind his neck. “Big words—how about you set about provin’ it to me?”

Grinning, he rolled her underneath him—and took his time pleasing his bride to be.

END OF The Sheikh’s Reluctant American