Page 34 of Her Irresistible Sheik (Al-Sintra Family #9)

Nahla stepped into Mikail’s office and paused, waiting. It took only a second for him to glance up from the papers he was reading.

“Did you make your phone call?” he asked, setting the papers aside.

She crossed the room, leaning forward to brace her palms on his desk.

A faint smile curved her lips when she noticed his eyes immediately drop to her chest. The loose blouse she wore dipped just enough to catch his attention—she’d chosen it deliberately.

Same with the bare feet and her hair left down.

Mikail liked it that way. She was learning things about him.

“What happened back there?” she asked softly, locking eyes with him.

He didn’t respond at first, then gave a shrug he probably thought looked casual. But after spending nearly every moment with him for the past week, Nahla knew better. She was starting to read this grumpy, intensely private man with the dangerously quiet voice and a body made for sin. Almost.

“You said you wanted to talk to your family,” he said. “I gave you space.”

She was already shaking her head. “No. I said I needed to speak to my family. That wasn’t the problem.” Her tone sharpened. “ What happened?”

Moving around the desk, she perched on its edge, directly in front of him. His gaze dipped to her hips. Predictable, she thought. She was counting on that. A distracted Mikail might be a more honest Mikail.

He shifted in his chair, gripping the armrests, his jaw tight. His eyes kept flicking toward the space between her knees.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Nahla.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” she countered. “Do you want me to tell my family about us?”

Instead of answering, he reached out and touched her ankles, gently pulling her feet into his lap. “You’re going to do whatever you want. You always do.”

“And what do you want me to do?” she pressed, pulling her feet back. “Be honest, Mikail. I’m not a mind reader.”

He sighed, then took her foot again, his strong hands beginning to massage her arch.

“What do you think is happening here?” he asked quietly.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she said, her voice even, steady—then sucked in a breath when his thumb found a tight spot.

His hands froze. His eyes locked on hers.

“Say that again.”

She smiled, her voice softer now. “I know I’m probably just an obligation to you—a favor for my cousin—but—”

He was on his feet before she could finish, closing the space between them in a blink. One hand anchored her waist, the other pressed to her back as he eased her down across the desk.

“You stopped being an obligation the morning I found you in the kitchen, covered in flour,” he growled. “And I swear on everything holy, I will never let you bake again. Those scones were a war crime.”

She burst out laughing, the knot in her chest easing with the raw honesty in his voice. “They weren’t that bad.”

“They were definitely responsible for Clyde losing a tooth.” He replied, a slow, sexy smile spreading over his face as he cupped her cheek with his palm. “They were that bad, love.”

She rolled her eyes and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Okay, fine. When you put it like that…”

His grin softened. “I scroll through your website all the time, you know. I love looking at your photos.”

Her eyes widened. Her heart slammed into overdrive. “You… do?”

“Yeah,” Mikail murmured, nodding as he lowered his mouth to brush a kiss over her lips. “Your photos of the kids playing in the sand? Absolutely darling.”

“I love taking pictures of kids,” she whispered, her fingers curling into the muscles of his shoulders, grounding herself against the flood of emotion.

“The animal photos are good too.”

She arched a brow and squirmed slightly. “ Just good?”

He chuckled, his mouth moving to her neck, finding the soft spot just under her ear that made her shiver. “Really good,” he amended, his voice deep and amused. “I especially love the way you feature the shelter animals. Most of them get adopted, don’t they?”

“Yes,” she sighed, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “It makes me feel like I’m giving something back.”

“It’s more than giving back,” he said, sliding his hands beneath her blouse, his thumbs teasing across her skin. “It’s impact.”

Then his expression shifted, more thoughtful. “Why don’t you want to tell your family about what’s going on between us?”

She hesitated, fingers brushing the side of his neck. “Because I didn’t think you’d want this to continue once I don’t need your protection anymore.”

That stopped him cold.

His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking along the side.

Then he sighed, leaning his forehead against hers.

His voice was quieter now. Firmer. “I want to protect you for the rest of your life, Nahla.” His lips pressed against hers—sweet, sure.

“I want the right to protect you every damn day,” he added.

“And I want to teach you to shoot arrows better. So next time, you hit the bastard in the heart instead of the ass.”

She stared up at him, stunned. “I don’t want to kill anyone,” she whispered, her arms curling around his neck, fingers threading into his hair.

He pulled back just enough to give her a bemused look. “What the hell do you think arrows do , Nahla?”

“They go into targets, Mikail. Not human beings,” she replied primly, then ruined it by pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He stared at her for a beat. Then he laughed, low and helpless, shaking his head. “God, you’re absurd. I want all of you, even the sweet, deluded pacifist parts.” He paused. “Except your baking. That part needs to stay buried.”

She smiled smugly. “If we’re going to continue this… whatever this is … then I am going to learn how to bake. I want to make scones so perfect, they’ll knock Heather off her culinary pedestal.”

“Who the hell is Heather?”

“She’s your head chef, Mikail,” Nahla huffed, exasperated.

“Ah,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. “She’s good. I like her cooking.”

“She’s a freaking artist , Mikail.”

He met her eyes with a mischievous glint. “Since you’re in love with me, how about you agree to marry me?”

Nahla blinked. That was not what she’d expected.

Her heart stopped. Then sped up again. “Do you really want to marry me?”

“Hell yes,” he growled. And in one smooth motion, he lifted her off the desk and settled her onto his lap, his hands sliding along her thighs.

“But you were so grouchy when I first showed up at your palace!” she protested, trying and failing to glare at him. “Marriage is a whole lot more invasive than just showing up with a suitcase!”

“I was grouchy because I’d met you a year earlier and couldn’t get you out of my head,” he muttered, sliding his hands under her shirt again. “And then you were in my home, looking beautiful and luscious and so damn untouchable . It drove me mad.”

“You didn’t act like I was untouchable when we first met,” she pointed out. “You acted like I was an annoying gnat.”

“And you looked at me like I was a bug you wanted to stomp under your pretty blue heel.”

Her brows shot up. “I was wearing blue shoes?”

He nodded solemnly. “Blue with a silver sparkle. And a blue dress that came down to here—” he touched the spot between her breasts “—and your hair was up with sparkly things in your ears.”

“Sapphires,” she corrected primly. “Not sparkly things , Mikail. Precious gems.”

“I like your hair like this better,” he murmured, running his fingers through the loose waves. “And, since we’re being honest, I like you best completely naked.”

She laughed. A rich, unguarded laugh. But slowly, the amusement faded. Her fingers brushed the side of his jaw, suddenly serious.

“How do you feel about me when I’m fully clothed?” she asked quietly, even though part of her didn’t want to know. But she had to.

Mikail’s expression turned fierce.

“I love your art,” he said. “I love the passion you pour into everything you do—even when your efforts get you nearly assassinated by accident. I love the way you touch me, talk to me, challenge me.”

He took her hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“And I love you, Nahla. Even if your politics are completely wrong.”

She held her breath until that last part, then rolled her eyes. “I’ll forgive you for the politics jab only because you said you love me.”

“So,” he grumbled, sliding his hand up to cup her breast, “when are you going to marry me?”

Nahla gasped as his thumb swept over her already-erect nipple, the contact sending a jolt through her entire body. She ground against his very impressive erection, her voice a breathy whisper. “I don’t know. Maybe when you ask me nicely , with pretty flowers and a—”

She yelped when he stood up suddenly, lifting her effortlessly with his hands under her butt.

“What are you doing?” she laughed.

“You’re going to agree to marry me, woman,” he growled, striding down the hallway toward the bedroom like a man with a mission.

He kicked the bedroom door shut behind them and started kissing her—deep, demanding, hungry—his direction clear but his mouth far too distracting. When they reached the bed, he paused just long enough to lower her feet to the floor.

Without a word, he stripped her bare, dropping to his knees in front of her, his eyes devouring every inch. “Beautiful,” he rasped, sliding his hands slowly up her thighs.

She was just about to tease him when his hands shifted, parting her legs, parting her folds—and then one strong finger slid inside her.

“So damn beautiful,” he growled, just before he lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder and latched his mouth onto her sensitive nub.

Nahla gasped, entirely unprepared. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she tried to stay upright, to absorb the heat and pleasure flooding her. But Mikail knew exactly what he was doing, and within moments, her legs buckled. She fell back onto the bed, breathless and undone.

Mikail didn’t miss a beat.

He climbed over her, spreading her legs again without hesitation, continuing his delicious torment. Before she could even say his name, her back arched, and a cry tore from her lips as the climax rolled through her.

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

He stood up, stripped off his clothes with a ruthless kind of grace, and stared at her, fully naked and gloriously aroused.

“I didn’t give you permission to close your legs,” he said conversationally.

Still panting, Nahla propped herself on her elbows and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know I needed your permission, Mikail.”

He stroked his erection slowly, deliberately. “Spread your legs. I want to see all of you.”

“And if I don’t?” she asked, her voice husky, her body still trembling from the last round. But her eyes were full of heat as she watched his hand move.

“Then you don’t get this ,” he replied, nodding toward himself.

She snorted softly. As if that was a threat.

Instead of obeying, she shifted onto her hands and knees, crawling forward. “So… if I were to do this ,” she murmured, licking the tip of his erection with a slow, lazy swipe of her tongue, “you wouldn’t like it?”

His only response was a hiss and a step closer.

She licked again, then again, her eyes never leaving his face. He watched her, jaw clenched, eyes fierce. She took him into her mouth, tongue teasing and swirling, drawing moans from deep within him.

It didn’t take long before he pulled back with a curse, muttering something under his breath as he pushed her onto her back.

“Now you don’t get to tease,” he growled, hooking her leg over his arm and thrusting into her in one swift, perfect stroke.

Nahla cried out, arching as pleasure shot through her. He moved hard and fast, no restraint, no hesitation. She held on, gasping as another climax built inside her, then exploded with breathtaking intensity.

But he didn’t stop.

His body pinned hers down, and still he kept going—relentless, powerful—until with a final groan, he came, his release shuddering through both of them.

Afterward, he collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms, one hand stroking her back as they lay there in the dim light.

“Well,” he said after a long pause, “that didn’t go the way I planned.”

She laughed and kissed his chest. “Never challenge me, Mikail.”

He grunted, sliding his hand into her hair and gently tugging her head back so he could look into her eyes. “I will. Again and again, if that’s how you respond to my challenges.”

Her grin widened as she stretched up to kiss him again. Their bodies molded together easily, like they were made for each other.

With a gentle shift, he rolled on top of her, bracing his forearms on either side of her head. “I don’t have flowers or a ring,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m asking again. Will you marry me?”

Nahla’s heart felt like it might burst with happiness. Her eyes sparkled as she whispered, “Yes.”

The single word shimmered between them, full of promise and a future she hadn’t dared dream about before.

He kissed her then—tender and sweet, at first. But soon, the fire between them sparked again.

And the storm began all over.