The Sheikh’s Sham Engagement (The Safar Sheikhs 3)

Not because they needed to keep up appearances. Because they wanted it to go there.

At this point, she could admit it to herself. She was along for the ride because she wanted to be here. Because she loved Nasser—she’d never stopped loving him. That didn’t mean she knew what the future held for them, but for now? She wanted to taste the kisses and caresses she’d been missing for the past two-plus years.

Even if it came on the heels of a slightly forced engagement.

“So…I want to hear some stories!” The new voice surprised Willow, and she whipped around to find one of the tribal wives smiling at her. “Tell me about when you two first met.”

“Ah, Ursi.” Nasser rejoined her, handing Willow a fresh glass of wine. “You really want to hear this story?”

“Of course. I can see how in love you two are.” Her grin widened. “So I know this story must be good.”

“It’s not as fantastical as you might think,” Willow said, glancing over at Nasser. “It’s actually kind of…boring.”

“Boring?” Nasser feigned insult. “Nonprofit Management 101 was not boring.”

Willow giggled and swatted his shoulder.

“Ah, so it was at school, then? A university romance.” Ursi winked.

“We studied hard but studied each other harder,” Nasser said, slinging his arms around Willow’s shoulders. “Surprisingly, we graduated.”

“Speak for yourself,” Willow teased. “I had excellent scores, but this one…not so much.”

“Can you blame me?” Nasser asked in a quieter voice. “I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Willow felt heat reach her cheeks. That comment had been pure. Nothing they’d said or done tonight had been for show, even though it felt like it should be somehow.

If this engagement wasn’t because they both wanted to get married, then it seemed like the only logical conclusion was that they’d be performing.

But that’s not how it was with them. Not at all. This was easier than anything she’d ever done before. And part of her wondered if it wasn’t because she and Nasser were just meant to be.

Her stomach tightened at the thought, and she forced herself not to think about it. She pressed her hand to Nasser’s chest, batting her eyes up at him.

“Well, now you have me to look at for the rest of your life.” Oops. So much for not thinking about the whole meant to be thing. The flutters in her belly increased. Nasser’s grin only widened.

“That’s what we signed up for.”

Ursi cooed as they kissed, and more people circulated over to offer congratulations and learn more about their story. It was just after midnight when she shared a glance with Nasser that told her he was thinking exactly what she was: time to get out of here.

“Do you want to…?” Willow began.

Nasser glanced around the party. “Let’s go.”

The two of them hurried toward the palace hand in hand, Willow giggling as if they might be caught somehow. The party was really just starting to warm up—music had turned more traditional now that dinner was out of the way and drinks were pouring nonstop. Shouts and laughter echoed through the garden and down the halls of the palace as they raced toward Nasser’s bedroom. It wasn’t like anyone would care that they left—but still, it felt somehow illegal.

They arrived at Nasser’s bedroom door in a fit of laughter. Willow leaned against the wall and fought to catch her breath as Nasser unlocked his door.

“I don’t think anyone noticed us,” Nasser said, pushing the door open. He hooked her by the waist and led her inside, lips finding the sensitive part behind her ear. “Now I’ve got you all to myself.”

They shared a heavy look before the kissing began. Fervent and sloppy and heated, they kissed like it was the first and last time all wrapped up in one. Willow gripped his cheeks, small noises escaping her as she needed more, more, more. She’d never felt so hungry for him. So positively starving.

Nasser swept her up into his arms, and she shrieked, hanging onto his neck. He carried her toward the bed, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Sorry, should have done this through the doorway, right?” He grunted as he tossed her onto the bed, and she bounced gently. “Or does that only happen on the wedding night? I’m not well versed in your traditions.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, giggles escaping her as he pushed the sparkly skirt of her dress up toward her hips. “Carrying me through the bedroom can be our version. Maybe carrying the fiancée over the threshold is bad luck here. Whatever, we make the rules.”

“Yeah, we make the rules,” Nasser said, his voice muffled since his head had disappeared beneath the bunched fabric of her dress. A moment later he tugged her panties down, and then the soft heat of his tongue found her. He moaned from between her legs a moment later, and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at how perfect this night was.