Page 40 of Her Irresistible Sheik (Al-Sintra Family #9)

“What’s wrong?” Mikail asked, gently pulling Nahla into his arms. She shifted slightly to accommodate her belly, but he adjusted easily, resting a hand against the roundness of her stomach. He smiled as their son kicked against his palm.

“Nothing,” she replied, but her voice carried a weight he couldn’t ignore.

“Tell me,” he urged in that gruff, grumbly voice she loved.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“I feel enormous,” she whispered. “We can’t have sex because it’s too uncomfortable.

My ankles are swollen. I can’t eat anything because there’s no space left inside me.

I feel disgusting, and I’m terrified you’re going to look at me and see someone who’s fat and ugly.

” Her voice cracked, tears sliding down her cheeks by the time she finished.

Mikail blinked, stunned. She thought he didn’t want her?

He’d been watching her for months, falling even more in love with the way her body carried their child, with every new curve and change.

Yes, he missed the sex—but that wasn’t the point.

The doctor had been clear: no strenuous activity.

He’d respected the limit, but it hadn’t stopped his desire, or his admiration.

He didn’t try to reason with her. He knew this wasn’t a moment for logic. This was a moment for reassurance.

“You take my breath away every time you walk into a room,” he said, brushing a hand gently through her hair.

She started to protest, but he touched her lips, halting her words.

“I don’t see swollen ankles. I wouldn’t know if they were.

What I see is a woman glowing with the life growing inside her.

I see full, beautiful breasts, skin that draws my hands every time you pass by, and eyes that pull me in no matter what mood you’re in.

” He kissed her fingertips. “You’re carrying our child.

I want to touch you all the time. And if you doubt me, just shift those hips a little and you’ll feel the truth for yourself. ”

There was no mistaking his arousal pressing against her.

“I want you. So much it hurts.”

She looked up into his eyes, searching—and what she saw eased something inside her. Her shoulders relaxed.

“Thank you,” she whispered, shifting to kiss him.

But just as her lips brushed his, she gasped and drew back slightly, a flash of discomfort tightening her features. “Well… that’s different.”

“What’s different?” he asked, instantly alert.

Another pain struck her lower back and wrapped around her belly. She gasped again. “Okay, that one was worse.”

“Talk to me, Nahla,” he said, holding her steady as she pressed both hands to her belly and breathed slowly.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, eyes wide but calm. “It’s gone now. Probably Braxton-Hicks.”

Ten minutes later, just as she was stepping out of his office, another pain hit. This one bent her forward and made her grab the doorframe.

And then her water broke.

Eighteen hours later, Nahla screamed. Her hand crushed Mikail’s fingers as she bore down again.

“Never again!” she yelled. “Do you hear me?!”

“Yes, my love,” Mikail managed, sweat breaking across his brow as he wondered if he’d ever use his hand again. She was squeezing with a force that defied logic.

“Don’t you dare think I’ll forget this pain—!” Another contraction ripped through her. She pushed, groaned, cried out again.

Four contractions later, a baby’s wail filled the room. Mikail’s hands trembled as he cut the cord. Moments later, Nahla cradled their tiny son to her chest, her face wet with tears and glowing with awe.

“Our son,” she whispered, staring at his wrinkled, furious expression and fluttering lashes.

Mikail could hardly breathe. Her hair was soaked with sweat, her lips chapped, her body spent—and she had never looked more beautiful.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her softly. His voice was hoarse. His fingers throbbed. Nothing else mattered.

They gazed down at their baby in silence, wrapped in a moment too big for words.

“Your Highness,” the doctor interrupted gently, “I hate to say this now, but your hand… two of your fingers look pretty swollen. You may want to have those checked.”

Mikail hid the hand behind Nahla’s shoulders. “Not yet.”

Nahla blinked up at him through tears, a faint smile playing at her lips. “I broke your fingers, didn’t I?”

“I love you so much,” he murmured, tracing their son’s soft cheek.

“That’s all I need to know,” she whispered. Then she smiled. “Now go fix your fingers.”