“What are you planning?”Smiling, he straddled her. “You had no time to do a proper job of your henna for your wedding—so I am going to paint you with my vows.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Henna itches.”
“Ah, but warm honey does not—and I have the pleasure of licking it off you after.”
She lay back and spread her arms. “What will you write?”
He dipped a brush into a pot and then painted onto her breasts. “I will write of my love for your beauty.” She sucked in a breathe. The honey was warm—and sticky. And oddly sensual. He swirled the brush around one taut nipple. “I will write of how you are unlike any woman I have ever met before. I write of your courage and spirit—and also how I met you in jail.”
She laughed and took the brush from him. “Do I get to write something, too?”
He handed her the honey pot and lay back on the bed. “What do you wish to write on my body?”
She straddled him. His erection rubbed against her thigh. “Beautiful lover.” She swirled the words over his chest. “That’s about all I know in Arabic.” Leaning over him, she settled the honey pot and brush on the nightstand. Her breast brushed his mouth and he reached up to lick the honey from her skin. She gave a groan.
Flipping her onto her back, he loomed over her. “Ah, before I forget, I have a wedding present for you.” He rolled off the bed and came back to her with a slip of paper.
She stared at it a moment and then looked at him. “You bought Luke’s magazine?”
Khalid shrugged and stretched out next to her. “You may keep writing for this Luke or not—as you choose. But I did not like the idea of his magazine struggling. And this idea of his to do more articles on Sharjah—it is a good one. We need more people to know that Sharjah is both a safe place to visit and a lovely one.”
She tossed the paper aside and threw a leg over his legs. “You mean you want me to turn into a…a travel writer.”
“You say that as if it is a bad thing?” He ran his fingers up her arm and bent to lick the honey from her other breast.
She gave a moan. He pushed her back onto the bed. “Tell me I can inspire you to write lyrical praises for Sharjah?”
She ran her fingers over the muscles on his chest, trailing her hand down to his stomach and then dropping lower. “Why don’t we talk
about this later. Much, much later. I want to get back to your reputation as an amazing lover and just how you earned it. I also have honey starting to dry on my skin and—”
He cut off her words with a kiss that left her breathless. When he pulled back, he said, “I am yours to command, my love.”
Epilogue
Casey stared at the article she’d written. Luke had published it—and that was that. It disappeared without a trace. However, the background material she’d sent Luke was still generating emails. Frowning, Casey knew she’d made a discovery—one that didn’t please her.
She was a better travel writer than she was a reporter.
Reading over the background material, she could see she’d already been starting to fall in love with Khalid—and Sharjah. Looking up from her laptop, she stared out to where Khalid was swimming. They’d decided to spend a week at one of the beach resorts in Sharjah—the place left her longing to write about it. White sands, crisp blue water, happy people and an environmental slant on the resort so everything was recycled or reused.
She was also getting used to being married to a Sheikh—it had more than a few advantages, including having been able to fly her sister to Sharjah and then home again on a private jet. Candace was still raving about the wedding and had sent Casey two hundred photos of the event.
Coming out of the water, Khalid grabbed a towel to dry off.
Casey’s mouth went dry—dripping wet, the man was beautiful. Tall, tan and movie-star muscles left him quite the eyeful. She picked up her tropical fruit drink and said, “I’m done as a reporter.”
Khalid sat down in the chair next to her and pulled her feet into his lap. “Oh, and why?”
She waved at the scenery—the palms, the warm breeze from the desert and the sun glinting on the bay and the luxury hotel behind them, built low so it blended into the rocky coastline. “This—I’m becoming a travel writer. All I seem to want to do is focus on raving about this lavish, carefree lifestyle.”
The corner of Khalid’s mouth curved. “What if you had a look behind things? A Sheikh’s life is not all about fun. I have a business meeting to attend for my father this afternoon. I could ask the hotel manager to let you talk to the staff. They would show you the other side of the pleasure—how much work it is to make the guests feel pampered.”
She sat up suddenly. “That’s it. I don’t have to do travel articles—that’s fluff. But a book—that’s something substantial. It wouldn’t just be a travel guide, it’d be the insider’s guide. A look behind the scenes.”
She jumped up and kissed him. “When can I start? This afternoon? You don’t need me at this meeting, do you?”
Khalid grinned. “Want…yes. Need…no. Besides, I think my father has been sending meetings my way as a way of testing if what you told him is true—that his sons are ready for responsibilities. But I also think he would shudder to have you at one of these meetings. He is not quite certain what radical American ideas you might have.”