Pregnant by the Sheikh

As she reached her previous vantage point, another jolt hit her again. It was fiercer this time, making her stumble and drop her purse. Cursing when it opened on impact, spilling its contents, she crouched to retrieve them...and felt as if the place was plunged into darkness. The next second, she knew why. It was the massive figure towering over her, seeming to block out the whole world. She didn’t need to look up to see who it was. The current that now mercilessly arced through her told her who it was.

Numair.

As her chest filled to bursting with erratic heartbeats, he dropped to his haunches before her. Before she could raise her eyes to his, his hands, cool and calloused, brushed hers and zapped her with another thousand volts as he took the purse from her limp grasp and put everything back in it, his every move the essence of control and elegance.

As he handed it back to her, she mustered enough volition and looked up...and lost what remained of her compromised balance. Only the hand that shot out to support her stopped her from flopping back on her ass.

Finding herself inches from him was as heart-stopping, literally, as finding herself face-to-face with his predator namesake. All that lethal power coiled and simmering under the polished, perfect veneer of savage beauty.

She now realized she’d gotten it wrong before. He was no demigod. This was a full-fledged god, one who ruled over a whole pantheon of deities. A desert god in specific, forged from its heat and harshness, from its mystery and moodiness and magnificence. He might not have lived long in her region, but his heritage was carved in his every line.

And carved was an accurate word. Every inch of him seemed to have been hewn by some divine force. His all-black formal silk suit and shirt clung to a body she had no doubt was solid, chiseled muscle. The clothes offered not an inch of padding to the breadth of his shoulders and chest, no accentuation to the hardness of his abdomen and thighs or the sparseness of his waist and hips. This was the full potential of the species realized, a powerhouse of virility and manliness.

And that was before she took in the details of his face. From a luxurious mane of raven silk that would reach almost to his shoulders when freed, to stunning emerald eyes that seemed to radiate a hypnosis, to sensual lips and polished teak–colored skin spread taut against a bone structure to tear heartstrings over, he was breathtaking.

Then he was pulling her up to her feet as he uncoiled to his full height, and for the first time ever she felt dwarfed. She stood six feet in three-inch heels, and he still towered over her by what appeared to be half a foot.

Then he did something that once again made her heart hammer as if it was trying to ram out of her chest. He raised a hand and swept back the swath of hair that had cascaded over her face, ensnaring one strand, rubbing it between his fingers.

“You hate being here.”

No preliminaries. Just...bam. Of course he would follow no rules. It made it even worse that his voice was like darkest velvet gliding over her every nerve. Did he have to sound mouthwatering, too?

Without meaning to, she found herself responding, as if under the effect of a truth serum. “I do.”

He nodded, as if he’d already been certain, but approved her corroboration. “This—” he swept the whole scene in a disdainful flick “—is unworthy of your tolerance or your presence.”

She had to force the mouth that kept dropping open closed. “Sometimes we’re forced to put up with much, for the sake of what’s more important than our own preferences or what we think we’re worthy of.”

His lips and eyes hardened, clearly disapproving. “Nothing is more important than your preferences. And your worth is not a matter of opinion. Only the best is good enough for you. The only thing you must always expect and get.”

The heart that seemed to have taken permanent residence in her throat expanded at his praise. Even if it was empty hyperbole, it sounded fantastic coming from him.

“Uh, thanks...but you don’t really know anything about me. And it’s clear you have no idea who I am.”

That dismissing wave again. “The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew everything I need to know about you. As for your identity, that makes no difference to who you really are, what you truly deserve.”

“Oh, believe me, it does.”

“Because you’re Jenan Aal Ghamdi, and this is supposed to be your engagement party?”

He knew who she was. And it didn’t seem to make a difference to him.

His next words made that clear beyond a doubt. “It’s all quite irrelevant to me. And should be to you, too. You don’t want to be here. But you want to be with me.”

“I—I do?”

“Yes. As much as I want to be with you.” His words were dripping in arrogant certainty. From another man, it would have been offensive. She’d handed other men their asses over way less. From him, though, it was just right. He had a right to such supreme self-assurance.

His eyes flared in the dimness as they caressed her half-open lips before settling back on her no doubt shell-shocked eyes. “Let me take you away from this farce. I’m the only one who can give you everything you need.”

She gaped up at him. Was she so traumatized by the idea of marrying Hassan that she was having a wish-fulfillment hallucination? Creating this god of a man and making it so she’d had the same instant, inexorable effect on him that he’d had on her?

But nothing she could conjure could be as outlandishly incredible as him. No, he was real. He had really followed her here, and he really was offering...offering...

She didn’t know exactly what he was offering. But anything coming from him sounded better than any fantasy she’d ever had. And more impossible.

Her situation might be irrelevant to him, but to her...

Suddenly, everything inside her hit Pause. In seconds, an urge took her over. A plan. It was rash, probably crazy, but it was all she could think of anymore.

This man was even more powerful than the monarchs she’d approached for help. His power was also unbridled by any of their tribal and political shackles, and it was more than enough to resolve Zafrana’s crisis without her sacrificing herself to this barbaric ritual of an arranged marriage. Of course, a man like him wouldn’t help out of the goodness of his heart.

She had a feeling he didn’t have one.

But if he was as interested in her as he seemed to be, they might come to an understanding.

Even if she couldn’t imagine he was that interested, he’d help with something that major. As a businesswoman, she was used to taking risks. The worst that could happen was he’d decline and just walk away. But since the stakes were so high and he was that tempting, she’d risk far more than his mere rejection.

Before she could think again, she said it out loud, making it too late to back down. “There is something I need.”

“Anything.”

His instant, unqualified statement gave her the last shove of courage she needed to make her request.

“I need you to get me out of marrying Hassan.”

Two

“Done.”

Numair watched the impact of his one-word answer widening Jenan Aal Ghamdi’s magnificent eyes, spreading a deeper peach blush across the sculpted elegance of her cheekbones.

He was again almost overwhelmed by the need to trace that delectable color that kept surging across her face, the testament to his effect on this irresistible creature. And to luxuriate in every line of her masterpiece features, then drag her to him and taste each one before settling on her lush, dewy lips and devouring them.

It again baffled him, his response to her, the intensity, the immediacy of it. This was unprecedented, inexplicable. Yet it was most opportune. He’d come here for her after all.

He’d come knowing everything about her from the day she’d been born to the moment before he’d seen her. He’d compiled a dossier on her thicker than any he’d ever had on a quarry. From photographs, he’d noted her esthetic symmetry, but he hadn’t had any response to it, as usual.

Then he’d seen her in the flesh, and all thoughts of swallowing the bitter pill of necessity had been decimated by the thunderbolt of his response to her. Compulsions he’d never even imagined had taken him over the moment he’d laid eyes on her across the distance.

No. They’d done so even before he had. He’d felt her first.

Not that he’d realized what it had been he’d felt when a charge of energy had zapped him as soon as he’d entered this ballroom. He’d told himself it must have been a surge of resolve, obliterating any aversion to being here, to launching his mission. Those sensations had strengthened with each step he’d taken until he’d become certain it wasn’t internal, but a response to another person. A woman. Though he’d never felt anything like that toward one, the awareness he’d felt had been definitely...sensual.

Once sure of that, he hadn’t wanted to find the source of the disturbance. It would have been self-sabotaging to make contact with someone who’d triggered such an aberrant reaction in him when he was here in pursuit of a specific woman.

Then that beacon of sensations had moved, and before he could rein himself in, his gaze had been dragged toward it. And he’d found himself looking straight into her eyes. The heart that never faltered and barely sped under extreme conditions, that he almost never felt at all, had dropped a few beats before it had started thundering. It continued to do so.

As their gazes had meshed, so much had collided inside him. Disbelief, wonder, elation and a dozen other things. His target was the same woman who’d had this inexplicable influence on him. He hadn’t even thought what his mission would be like, but had been bound on seeing it through regardless. But this presented what he hadn’t even considered a possibility. That it would be enjoyable, even pleasurable.

Then he’d followed her, no longer out of calculation but compulsion. Everything he’d said and done since had been spontaneous. And real. One thing had been driving him, the one thing he was certain of.

He wanted her.

Then she’d shocked him yet again when she’d given him the means to the very thing he was here to achieve. Stopping her marriage to Hassan Aal Ghaanem.

But since he’d let go of all premeditation, he hadn’t even hesitated. His response had been instantaneous.

The moment it had left his lips, he’d wished it back. This wasn’t how he’d intended this to go. He’d intended to maneuver her, to reel her in slowly, to spoil Hassan’s marriage arrangement by seducing his bride-to-be and claiming her for himself. What he’d just offered wouldn’t serve his purpose.

But he couldn’t take it back. Not when she’d looked up at him with such hope and entreaty as she’d made her request.

Nothing remained on her face now but shock. She must have expected him to say just about anything else but his succinct promise.

He watched the smooth column of her throat working, and he hardened all over as he imagined his lips soothing the convulsive movement, swallowing her moans at their origin.

Then in that velvety voice that strummed every male fiber in his body, her husky question validated his assessment of her incredulity. “Just...done?”

That was his cue to add some qualification, to drive his own bargain. But he couldn’t bear to think of interrupting the unrehearsed progression of events.

Deciding to let this play out and adjust his direction later, he nodded. “I did say I’d do anything for you. I intend to.”

And the strangest thing was, he did. Apart from what he had to gain by intervening, what drove him now was the need to wipe this trapped expression from her face. He’d come here thinking she’d agreed to marry Hassan to have access to his bottomless oil-money resources. While her history painted a picture of an independent, successful woman, he’d known of many such women who preferred being subsidized once the opportunity presented itself. That she’d refused to marry Najeeb, then consented to marry his father had made him think she’d preferred the older man who’d make far less demands, and who’d be far easier to manipulate.

But one look at her had told him that she found Hassan and the idea of marrying him abhorrent on all levels. How she was being forced to enter that marriage, he had no idea yet, but he didn’t doubt that she was, and that she was seething with futile rage at having no choice. A choice he would now give her.

Not that she believed he could, not as easily as he’d implied. He saw the flare of hope in her eyes dim with the gloom of reality. “Intentions are one thing, executions are another.”

“Not to me. Anything I intend, I execute.”

At the certainty in his words, her gaze flickered again. “But surely not anything.”

He shrugged. “I can do anything I put my mind to. I always have. And I always will.”

Her edible lips hung open for moments before a breathy chuckle escaped them. Her every expression and sound inflamed him. Her every inch, even in that unflattering dress, seemed to be exerting an inexorable gravity on his every cell and sense.

She shook her head in dazed humor, and the silky waves of her hair undulated around her shoulders. “You know what? I believe you can. The universe must bend over backward to accommodate you.” Her eyes turned serious, and he wished to fast-forward in time to when she’d look up at him with eyes blazing with passion as he rode her to ecstasy. “But don’t you want to know what this is all about before you make such a commitment?”

He shrugged again. “All I need to know is that you enlisted my help in escaping a fate I believe is worse than death to you. Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do it.”

“But you still need to know details, so you can decide what needs to be done.”

And he gave in to the urge. He reached out and cupped her face, groaned as her firm softness filled his palm, as her flesh singed him with that perfect storm of chemistry that had erupted between them.

He barely stopped himself from swooping to claim the lips that spilled such an intoxicating gasp at his touch. He groaned. “You can tell me everything you want...in my suite.”

His hand melted down her neck and shoulder before it closed over a resilient arm as he turned toward the French doors to lead her outside.

At her rooted unresponsiveness, he frowned. “You do know who I am?”

She had to. She wouldn’t have asked what she had from someone else. For who else could she think could thwart a king?

But he was suddenly uncertain she knew. After all, nothing so far had followed any logical projections.

She silently nodded, her eyes still filled with that shell-shocked expression.

He pressed. “You’re not sure you can trust me?”

She shook her head, then squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, they blasted him in an even hotter wave of unconscious sensuality. He barely suppressed a shudder.

But her color had become hectic and her breathing erratic. She swayed unsteadily in his grip.

Suddenly anxious, he asked, “Are you all right?”

She nodded again, then groaned. “Hell, I keep nodding and shaking my head as if I’ve forgotten how to speak.”

His eyes assessed her as he took his hand reluctantly away. “Maybe you don’t want to speak to me anymore.”

Her cough was incredulous. “You’re kidding, right?”

“You tell me. It’s clear I’m...agitating you.”

“Oh, you are. But it has nothing to do with not trusting you. I do trust you.”

He surveyed her expression, not sure if he was reading it right. Because even knowing who he was, such conviction should be premature. And she didn’t strike him as someone given to making such serious claims lightly.

He gritted his teeth. “You don’t need to say what you don’t feel to placate me or to be polite. You have no reason to trust me. Yet. But I will give you any guarantees you demand so you’ll feel safe with me.”

A chuckle burst from her lips. “Oh, you have much to learn about me. When I’m not in my professional mode as a multinational business consultant, I lead with my real opinions first and don’t bother asking questions later.”

This did feel like the truth. This attitude suited her, and everything he felt from her.

His lips relaxed in response to her infectious smile. “I would have nothing less than the whole truth from you.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right person for that.”

“I’ll count on it. I have no tolerance for empty etiquette and pulling punches, either.”

“Yeah, I noticed. You tell it as it is, in the most shockingly direct way possible. Welcome to the club.” She grinned up at him, and he again wondered how he didn’t have her pressed into that column at her back and was all over her. She made his condition even worse when she sighed, the sound caressing his every nerve. “But I do trust you. I just know you’d never harm me in any way. And don’t ask me how I know that. It has nothing to do with anything I know about you. I just do.”

“Then why were you so alarmed about coming to my suite if it didn’t occur to you I’d take advantage of you?”

Again that unfettered chuckle. “As if. I bet you bound over women who pursue you begging to be taken advantage of.”

“You’re not women. You’re you.”

“Even if you consider me different...”

“Not different. Unique.”

Her color heightened again with pleasure at what should have been an exaggeration but was anything but. “Even if you do consider me that, I can’t imagine other men’s weaknesses ever applying to you. You wouldn’t prey on anyone weaker.”

Her opinion of him had something searingly pleasurable swelling inside him. Yet...“I felt your anxiety, your distress. I still feel them.”

Something soft and even more hard-hitting than all her previous expressions came into her eyes as she cocked her head at him, her lips quirking. “Hello? You do realize you’re the most overwhelming man alive, right? As if that wasn’t enough, we broke every rule of personal interaction. Heck, we’ve already progressed to discussing wedding-busting plans. Excuse me if I’m rattled to my core.”

“You don’t need to be. I care nothing about rules. Between us those don’t exist. And you know it.”

“You think I know anything right now? I’m not even sure this is really happening or that you really exist. I only know that nothing has ever come close to hitting me this hard.”

“Another thing we share, then. Even before I saw you, you hit me harder than anything ever had.”

She scrunched her nose at him in adorable teasing. “Don’t you say what you don’t mean to try to tickle my ego.”

His lips twisted, admitting his condition to himself even as he did to her. “I do mean it. Your ego has every right to be rolling on the ground laughing.” Her chuckle tinkled like crystal with such genuine pleasure, he had to fist his hands to keep them from grabbing her. But he also needed to resolve this issue. “So were you just surprised I asked you back to my suite?”

That delightful lopsided grin flashed wider again. “Surprised is the understatement of the century. But seriously, I just needed a moment for a reality check. And to breathe. You, sir, are more breath depleting than the most insane roller-coaster ride.”

Just then another unprecedented thing happened. His own lips spread with a combination of emotions he didn’t recognize. If forced to name them, he’d guess they most approximated delight, indulgence, even tenderness.

His smile had an equal and opposite reaction on her. While everything about her made him hard as steel, she melted against the support of the column at her back.

Her gaze poured hot, glazed reproach over him, making him start to ache, throb. “You should be banned by law from doing that. Everything about you is already overkill. A smile, and that kind, too, can cause widespread damage.”

His smile only widened as triumph revved inside his chest. “No danger of that, as I have no smiles of any kind for anyone. This is exclusively for you.”

“So I’m a target group of one, huh?”

Something tightened in his chest as he heard the word target on her lips. What she’d been to him before he’d seen her. Now it suddenly felt wrong.

Oblivious to his thoughts, she gazed up at him with what he now believed was trust and...was that admiration, too? “I came here tonight thinking I’d run out of luck for life, but because I met you and you’ve offered what you have, no matter what the outcome will be, I’d already revised my opinion. But to be the sole recipient of your smile? Talk about my luck making a total turnaround.”

Giving in to his compulsion, he tugged her to his side. “I’m willing to talk about anything. Just not here. Come with me?”

She nodded, shyness tingeing her gaze, affecting him more because he knew only he elicited such a reaction from her, and it was genuine, like everything else about her. “Just promise me a chance every now and then to catch my breath.”

“Although it’s the last thing I want, I’ll give you all the time you need to feel at total ease with me.”

Her eyes twinkled impishly at him. “I don’t think it’s humanly possible to feel relaxed around you.”

After that first smile, another came easier to him. “Tension works, too. As long as it’s the delicious kind.”

She sighed dramatically. “I don’t know about that. What you provoke is too scalding to be called anything so benign.”

Her ready confessions of his effect on her surged through him again with such unstoppable desire. Unable to wait any longer, he swept her outside.

As he had her rushing to keep up with his eager steps, she melted into him, as if she needed his support. Then as he steered her toward the elevators, he felt her tensing against him.

This tightness in his chest returned. “Worried again?”

Her smile brightened once more, becoming whimsical as she shook her head. “You’d never be a threat to me, Sheikh Numair. If I have anything to worry about, it’s what an overpowering temptation you are.”

Something twisted in his gut when she called him sheikh. It sounded...so right.

His arm tightened around her, as if in thanks. “It’s only fair, since you’re that, and more, to me.”

Sharing a smile of expectation with her, feeling as if everything he’d ever wanted was within his grasp, he took her into the elevator.

* * *

As Numair held the door open for her, Jen walked past him on legs that at once had the consistency of steel and jelly.

She was really here. In his suite.

Trying to focus on anything besides the feel of him at her back, his scent and heat flooding her senses, she tried to look around.

Though she’d stayed at The Plaza before, it had never been in such a room. The one-of-a-kind Royal Plaza Suite was on a level of magnificence that equaled Zafrana’s royal palace. Though with the hard times her homeland had fallen on, the state of the two places couldn’t be compared. This suite that sprawled over almost five thousand square feet in the most private area of the legendary hotel, overlooking the most prized views in Manhattan—Fifth Avenue and the Pulitzer Fountain—was impeccably maintained. With its rich decorations, sumptuous textiles and exquisite furnishings, all inspired by the ambiance of the royal court of Louis XV, it was the ultimate in luxury. While Zafrana’s royal palace, where she’d grown up, was on its way to becoming dilapidated.

Her gaze strayed back to Numair, and she found herself wondering what his home looked like.

Not that she’d ever find out. Whatever was happening here, whatever he was offering, whatever he wanted in return, she had no illusions it would be anything but transient.

Which she was okay with. Anything she’d have with him, anything he could do for her, would be far more than anything she’d dared dream of an hour ago.