The Sheikh's Offer (8 page)

This man had kept his word, and had been kind and considerate to her. It was probably an ephemeral fantasy and a hopeless ploy, but she felt like every inch the princess he’d promised her she’d be.

It continued as he placed the flatbreads, hummus, and dates before her as well as a heaping dish filled with meat so well-seasoned and delectable that she found herself drooling in eager anticipation.

“What is that?” she asked.

“It’s called
Al Machboos
, and it’s a delicacy here in the UAE.”

“God, it smells amazing!” She took a mix of the rice, roasted eggplant, and the lamb on her plate, then put a forkful in her mouth. The flavors hit her tongue instantly. Sage and turmeric mixed with a hint of more spices and the rich broth of the tender lamb. She moaned almost obscenely and swallowed the mix. “So it’s only in the Emirates? Is that the only reason I haven’t had this before? If Alana was holding something this good out on me, I might have to kill her.”

“It’s most certainly only a delicacy here. We rarely cook it in Al-Marasae. And you’d be a new, single mother with Gabriel to care for.”

She laughed and shoved a date in her mouth. “Yes, but you’d be a ready and willing godfather for the little guy, so how bad could that be?”

“That’s blissfully domestic. I have to say I approve,” he replied, starting in on his own hunk of lamb. “Maybe we’d have to work on a brood of our own if you want to stay Sheikha Hassem after Friday that is.”

Sighing, she frowned at him. “I have two more days to think it over. I know what feels good now. Mostly, I feel for the first time in a while that things are finally working out for me. I’ve struggled so long dealing with Monique being a harsh witch and trying to live up to her demands. The thought of having a chance to own a restaurant… It’s more amazing than I could ever say. Terrifying too.”

“Hmm,” he said then sipped his water. “How do you figure?”

“When your name is the one plastered on the side of the building, then everyone knows. It’s one thing to be written up in culinary magazines and reviewed for magazines when I don’t own the place. People don’t know who the chef is at a place that says Paradiso on the marquee. But you have people come to Kelly’s Place or have my name prominently on everything, then it’s all on me. If I fuck up, no one will ever cook with me or hire me again.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said, reaching out and stroking his beard. “Even if you set up shop in New York and failed, it could be because the competition of the city is huge. There always has to be a second chance.”

Suddenly tired, she pushed her plate away and ran her fingers over her rings. “Do you mean that for everyone? Is that what this all is? A second chance?”

“It’s fate. I give you that,” he said, grinning back at her. “I think whatever you do, you’ll be amazing at it. You have been so far.”

“Does that apply to you and Oasis? Alana has been keeping me posted on it. The sheer scope of the resort and shopping center, all those boutiques and designers coming in? It’s amazing. You really are trying to put a place like here at Yas or all of Dubai to shame.”

Asam shrugged. “I wish Father felt that way. It’s bizarre, and I don’t understand it. He has Faaid to run the nation after he dies and Dharr to make sure Hassem Petroleum
remains on top. I’m doing this project to prove I’m serious, and he’s mostly been fighting me on it. He wants to show that Al-Marasae has strength in military and industry. I think he finds the excesses of Saudi Arabia or here in the UAE too much. He’s so traditional,” he said, throwing his hands up in disgust. “I do know what it’s like to be afraid to fail. I have failed my whole life as far as the great Sheikh Azhaar is concerned. If Oasis doesn’t survive, he’ll probably conscript me to do hard work with our military.”

Kelly gasped, her eyes widening. “You can’t possibly be serious!”

“Well, not front line, but Dharr had to talk Father into this to begin with. It’s a compromise project so that the Hassem family screw-up could do something that Father would deem at least acceptable.”

“I think your dad is an ass,” she said, her voice building. “First, he puts all that pressure on Dharr, then he almost chases Alana off and leaves her a wreck. Now, he’s married off the others and made them ‘respectable enough,’ and he’s breathing down your neck. It’s horrible. He’s supposed to be a father, not an overlord.”

“You don’t know much about Al-Marasae. I’m glad Faaid and Dharr are more like me. I’d hate to think of any of my nephews and nieces suffering like that, feeling that pressure. But it’s what Azhaar wants, and what Father wants, he gets.”

“Maybe you don’t need him at all,” she said, stroking his cheek and feeling the scratchiness of his stubble against her palm. “If I did come back, and I’m not sure yet that I will...”

“But?” he asked, his eyes lighting up like stars. “That’s a maybe at least. You’re running the traps, and I like that.”

“Perhaps,” she said, grinning back at him. “Alana can practice law. Do you have a restaurant at Oasis? Do you need a talented, award-winning chef to fill that kitchen?”

He nodded and reached back to stroke the curve of her neck. Kelly shivered at the intimacy of the embrace. “I could use the finest chef I’ve ever eaten with.”

“You’ve only had a few of my dishes.”

“But I know I like what I’ve tasted. Hell, we can even get you the recipe for the
Al Machboos
. It can be the new signature dish of Al-Marasae, if you like.”

“A national edict for little old me?” she said, blushing. “I think I’d like that.”

“Well, your people—should you choose to accept them—would do anything to please their sheikha.”

She grinned more widely and pushed the rest of the food plates far to the side, leaving the expanse of their woven mat and fluffy pillows free from clutter. She had far better ideas for what they could do, and for right now, lamb and dates had nothing to do with it.

Stretching herself out in front of him, Kelly slipped off her kaftan, letting the lilac silk fabric fall to the sand beside her. There was already ample access to the rest of her. Tonight, she felt ready to have him take her completely, and Kelly had been planned ahead, crafting her seductive moves.

She licked the tip of her fingers and rubbed her right nipple, drawing it into a hard peak. With her other hand, she played with her curls, feeling the soft hair beneath her grip. “Do you see anything you like, my sheikh?”

Asam licked his lips and unzipped his jeans. He’d been wearing something casual and typically American on the beach. Her only complaint was he hadn’t taken off his T-shirt yet. That would never do. If she had any legal power as sheikha, Kelly was definitely going to make a rule that men with eight-packs as amazing as Asam’s were never allowed to wear shirts.

Hell, she was considering banning clothes for him altogether, but that might get complicated. It might be hard for him to be the CEO and manager of Oasis with everything hanging out in the breeze.

She bet some of the female and male clientele both would appreciate the new law of Al-Marasae. She sure would!

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

He stilled and frowned back at her. His tone was even when he replied but quiet, “What?”

Kelly groaned, realizing she’d accidentally sent the biggest of all mixed signals. “No, I’m totally ready.” She giggled and tossed her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. Looking lower, she could see Asam’s length already springing free and eager from his jeans. “I think I’m not the only one
up
for it.”

He laughed, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I’m more than ready for that.”

“I think you should get some skin in the game, Asam,” she said, her smile widening ever further when she saw those washboard abs of his.

He knelt down before her, and she leaned forward, climbing to her knees so she could trace her tongue over the ripples and muscles of his abdomen. Drops of sweat slid down his body in the heat on the beach. Her tongue traced over each bump and valley on his stomach, and she relished the salty tang of him on her taste buds.

Dear God, what perfection he is
.

He shuddered under her efforts and shouted out her name. “Kelly!
Mon amie
, you’re amazing!”

“You say that so much,” she said, pulling back and letting her hand roam down to stroke his length. She smirked as his member twitched in response to her delicate touch. “
Mon amie
. Did you learn French?”

“I went to college at Princeton, but I did a year abroad at in Paris. My mother was from Algiers originally, so she spoke French fluently. It used to be a French colony.”

“It’s so lovely when it slides off your tongue,” she said, staring up at him like a supplicant worshipping their god. “Everything about you is amazing.”

“Not when I run off on you.”

“It’s forgiven. You didn’t have any obligations to me after one night at a party, and I’m the one who has given the cold shoulder ever since. I’m so glad we ended up drinking way too many mint juleps.”

He chuckled as she leaned back on the pillows. “You shouldn’t forget the shots,
mon amie
. I’m pretty sure those helped too.”

“It’s like a miracle.”

“Or just fermentation,” he said, chuckling again. His voice was smooth and inviting.

“Maybe, but I’m so glad it all happened,” Kelly replied. “Now, please, Asam. I need you now—all of you.”

There was nothing left to say. After all this reconnecting, all they truly needed was to be joined in the most intimate way possible. He slid his thick member into her slick core. She moaned at the feeling of his girth stretching her so intimately.

“That feels so good,” she said, closing her eyes and surrendering to the sensations.

The sound of the waves crashed through the cool night air. The breeze tickled her skin and pebbled her nipples even further. He positioned himself on top of her, and she could smell the musk of him mixed with saffron tickling her nostrils.

Asam began to move his hips in earnest, thrusting inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and drove her hips upwards, trying to feel him as deeply inside her as possible.

Heat built between them, like having poured gasoline on a roaring bonfire. The harder he thrust, the more he began to strike against her G-spot. Her vision swam, and she was panting hard, feeling her muscles relax and tighten. Sparks were arcing again behind her eyes, and she felt as if her whole body was consumed by passion growing between them.

Asam came first, throwing back his head and shooting his seed deep inside her womb. He shouted her name as well as a terse litany of Arabic as pleasure coursed through him. It didn’t take long for her to follow, falling over the edge into utter ecstasy as they writhed together in flames of desire.

He pulled out of her eventually and cradled her to his chest, tossing the blanket over both of them. They would be able to walk back to their villa soon enough, but for now, Kelly felt as if she’d run a marathon. There was no way she could do more than rest and focus on taking in gulps of air.

“That was…”

“…yeah,” she finished. She was glad it wasn’t just her feeling this way. Reaching down, she grabbed his hand with her own, smiling at how their rings covered one another. It was like they belonged.

No, it’s more than that. It’s not me belonging to him, but both of us being together in such a perfect union.

“I love you,” she said, surprising herself with her candor. “I fought it and circled around it, but you have shown me so much. Hell, you believe in me.”

“Does this mean you’ll come back to Al-Marasae, my sheikha?”

“Of course,” she said, snuggling against him. “I’m yours for as long as you want me.”

***

Chapter Seven

Asam grinned widely as he booted up his laptop to place a call to his brother. It was time to check on the contracts and make sure Prada, Gucci, and Dior had all finalized the contracts for storefront space. He was also going over the proposals for the senior staff and making sure his acting manager was already organizing the hiring process. It was a busy day ahead, and he would be spending it frolicking with Kelly on the beach. But while she recovered from their love making last night, he needed to work on getting some headway in.

It would be too much to get to Monday morning if he let it all go for over a week.

However, it wasn’t his brother who answered when the call went through. How his father had been around to intercept Dharr’s call, Asam didn’t know, but he definitely didn’t want to. Wily old Azhaar had his ways. When didn’t his father have spies and machinations in play everywhere?

“My son,” his father wheezed, hunched toward the screen. “How exactly is taking off with some American whore going to help you? Do you think I want to have someone not of Middle Eastern descent near the throne? Alana is bad enough being raised an infidel, but do you really expect me to indulge you in a fantasy of her cow friend?”

“Kelly,” he groused out, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “The ‘cow’ has a name, and it’s Kelly Kentworth. I want her to be my bride.”

“I told you when I set up the challenge that you had a limited time to bring me a worthy bride, my son. You’ve played around in a luxury resort with an American slut. That’s worse than your brothers. It’s completely unforgiveable.”

“I love her.”

His father threw his head back and laughed; it was a rasping sound that made Asam’s stomach churn. “She’s just a fat infidel fool, not at all suitable for a sheikha. I gave you orders, and you bring me back a middle finger as far as your chosen bride. Pick better, or Oasis will belong to someone else. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, the entire Hassem line will only contain two brothers. Now fix it!” he demanded before clicking off.

Asam frowned back at the screen. The only thing that kept him from tossing his laptop across the room was the fact he needed it. Money wasn’t an issue, and neither was replacing it, but moving files over from a broken machine wouldn’t be worth the momentary catharsis. Annoyed, he just growled back at the Skype welcome page.