The Sheikh's Christmas Wish

by Clare Connelly

  He looked like he’d walked off a billboard.

  “Hi.” She hadn’t seen him since the night he’d made so many of her fantasies come true. He’d made her body sing again and again before lathering her up in the shower, making her a hot chocolate and leaving her exhausted, satisfied and on cloud nine.

  Her smile showed her coyness at seeing him again. But it didn’t last long. He crossed the street in three long strides and pulled her into his arms. There was nothing cold nor patient about his kiss. It was fire and flame; need and want.

  “Hi,” he said into her mouth, his body hard against hers.

  When he pulled away, she was instantly bereft.

  “What are we doing?” She asked light-heartedly, choosing not to display her unease. But deep down, the dependence she was beginning to feel for him made her very, very worried.

  “Come with me.” He held her hand and guided her a little down the street until they reached a low-slung car. It was jet black, with inky tinted windows and super sleek. When she was close enough to see properly, she read the badging. It was a Lamborghini.

  “Yours?” She murmured, her eyes catching his as he held the door open for her.

  He dipped his head in silent agreement. “Hop in, Azeri. Your hour is wasting.”

  She nodded jerkily, sliding into the front passenger seat. The car was the last word in luxury. She had a second to absorb the leather seats, wood panelling, electronics that looked like they’d be at home in a spaceship, before he took the drivers’ seat and drove all thought from her mind.

  He was so powerful; so incredibly in control. He looked utterly at home behind the wheel of this luxury car.

  “Where are we going?” She asked.

  He purred the engine, revving it teasingly and slid her a grin. “Not far.”

  “You’re being deliberately vague,” she said with an answering smile.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want you to come with me.”

  “Come with you where?”

  He winked, taking the car down the narrow lane before turning onto the main road. He was not a reckless driver, but he did drive fast. Faster than she’d known it was possible to go in central London. It took less than ten minutes for him to reach what she presumed to be their destination, a high rise on the banks of the Thames, that overlooked tower bridge.

  He opened her door before the concierge could do it, putting a hand in the small of her back. He guided her through the lobby. Again, she had only seconds to comprehend the level of wealth and comfort that surrounded her. Plush sofas, enormous marble tiles, white pillars, windows that stretched floor to ceiling and showcased a view over the river. He guided her through the lobby, to the elevator, and pressed the button several times. It pinged open almost instantly and, once inside, he pressed the button for the top floor and swiped a card over the panel. He dropped his hand from her back and took her fingers in his instead, squeezing them once.

  Her heart squeezed in response.

  The doors opened directly into what she thought, at first, was a hotel room. But only two steps into the space, she realised it was much more than that. This was some kind of incredible penthouse. More windows, a whole wall of them in fact, framed the river in one direction and embankment in the other.

  She stood on the spot, revolving slowly, shaking her head until she was facing Ra’if.

  “Who are you?”

  Something darkened his expression for the briefest moment and then he was kissing her, kissing her hard, pushing her body backwards until they connected with the wall. She groaned, questions dropping from her mind as desire flooded her system. Her body craved his touch. She was pushing at his coat, trying to find skin. Her fingertips were tingling with their need to explore. She groaned when they succeeded, letting them roam his chest freely, running over the hair-roughened skin.

  “You’re so warm,” she murmured.

  “That’s not warm, that’s my blood boiling my body.” He stepped back and stared at her, his breath ragged, his face held tight. “You are temptation personified.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ of surprise.

  “I meant it. I did not bring you here for that. Yet I look at you and want to take you to my bed for a week.”

  “Just a week, huh?” She arched a brow, hiding the way her heart was jumping all over the place with a teasing smile.

  A muscle jerked in his cheek. He held a hand out to her, and she put hers in it, but her body was mush. Heat had spread through her, pooling between her legs in an indisputable sign of need.

  “We could start with an hour,” she prompted quietly, and he flashed her a smile.

  “You might change your mind when you see why I brought you here.”

  “I doubt it.” She sighed, her eyes coasting over the view, her brain slowly blinking back to life. “Ra’if?”

  He looked at her encouragingly.

  “What do you actually do?”

  His face flicked for a second. Did she imagine that tiny pause before he answered? “I manage my family’s business interests,” he said with a shrug.

  “And I guess they’ve got a lot of interests,” she said with a laugh. “If this place is anything to go by.”

  “Yes.” He paused at the doorway to another room. “But you know, something occurred to me since seeing your lovely little flat.”

  “Oh?” She smiled at the praise.

  “There is a distinct lack of festivity here.” He reached down and put a hand over her eyes. “And I thought you could help me fix that.” He guided her through the doorway then released the makeshift blindfold.

  Melinda gasped. The tree in front of her was at least twice the height of hers, and it was a real tree, with that delicious smell of fur pine and alpine forests. This room had the same enormous windows that overlooked the river, but it was a formal dining room, with a table stretching through the middle. One end of the table – that which was nearest to the tree – was festooned with boxes and boxes of brand new decorations. In the middle of the table, there were platters of food. When she got closer, she saw that they included mince pies and star-shaped shortbread.

  Melinda shook her head in wonderment, turning to Ra’if but he held up a hand. “Wait, wait.”

  She watched as he pressed something on his phone and old-fashioned Christmas carols, just like she liked to listen to, began to pipe through the room. She burst out laughing. “You know, this could be a tad too much.”

  He grinned. “I think the way to your heart might be through Christmas traditions.”

  It sobered her, but not completely. She folded her smile away, processing his words, but he was close to her now, looking at her, his face so light-hearted that she knew he’d been joking, or modifying an old expression just for fun. They’d agreed this relationship wouldn’t get serious. She couldn’t do serious. Could she?

  “Will you help me decorate it?”

  “Right now?”

  “Well,” he murmured, “I wanted to invite you here tonight, but I know that might be difficult.”

  She nodded. “And I have plans with Jordan this weekend.” The realisation hit her like a tonne of bricks. She turned away from him, on the pretence of studying the Christmas decorations. She loved the weekends, when she finally got to spend time with her son. The weeks went so quickly, with her up early to travel into the city, and Jordan almost ready for bed by the time she got home again. It felt disloyal in the extreme to want to be shirking those responsibilities now to see more of Ra’if.

  “Melinda,” he was right behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “I have never dated a woman with a child before.” That he knew of. It wasn’t like he’d ever stuck around long enough to know much about them. “I can understand why you don’t want to introduce him to a man you’ve just met. But if you decided differently, I would enjoy spending time with both of you. I’d even promise to keep my hands off you for the duration, as much as it would kill me.”

/>   She laughed and shook her head. “It’s not that. Well, it is. I mean, we’ve agreed that this is just … fun … so I don’t want to confuse Jordan by having him get to know you. But really, it’s the whole thing with Brent too.”

  Ra’if stiffened momentarily, not sure which of her statements he found less palatable. “When did you last see him?”

  “Oh, about a month ago. And before that, not for over a year.”

  “You said his mother helps with Jordan. Does she see Brent?”

  “No. They’ve tried to help him, but he pushes everyone away. It’s only because of Jordan that he’s still in my life.”

  “It can take a lot of attempts before someone really succeeds at rehabilitation.”

  “And lots of people don’t get there,” she responded quietly, turning back to the tree. She changed the subject and Ra’if was grateful. They’d strayed into grounds that were dangerously close to topics he didn’t want to discuss.

  “I guess we could make a start.” She reached for the fronds, running their smooth bristles through her fingers. “But a tree this big would take hours to do properly.”

  “Then we’ll start now, and come back to it another time.”

  She nodded, moving towards the decorations. He watched as she lifted each, studying them thoughtfully. “You’ve gone for a lot of red and white.”

  He shrugged. “My assistant assures me it’s very ‘in’ this season.”

  She grinned. “Your assistant has great taste.” She lifted the strand of lights first. “Okay, Mister. Seeing as you clearly have the size advantage, why don’t you start with the lights.”

  “Show me where you want them.”

  She nodded, pointing at the base of the tree. “I usually start low and wrap around, until you reach the top. If there’s enough length, you can cross over and loop back in reverse.”

  “Right.” He began to do as she’d instructed and Melinda watched, her eyes enjoying the sight of him reaching all the way to the top of the tree.

  “Do you celebrate Christmas in Dashan?”

  “Yes.” He caught her eyes as he rounded the tree again. “Our country is filled with many faiths, and we honour them all respectfully. My brother and I have always had a soft spot for the holidays that involved presents or confectionary.”

  She smiled. “Me too. You have a brother?”

  “Yes. Zami.” He finished wrapping the lights and stood back to admire his handiwork.

  “Are you close?”

  “We are now. For a great many years there was a lot of tension between us. It’s resolved now.”

  “Wow. That’s amazing. I can’t imagine ever speaking like that about my parents.”

  He shrugged. “Our dispute was not his fault. It was mine. He has been magnanimous enough to forgive me, and I have apologised authentically. Perhaps if your parents were contrite and remorseful for their past decisions, you might find it in your heart …”

  “Probably.” Her smile was lopsided. “And I can’t imagine you ever doing anything to upset anyone.”

  Tell her. He pushed the voice back down, deep inside of him. If he told her, this would be over. No matter how insane their sexual chemistry, she would walk away from him faster than he could say reformed-junkie.

  “When my brother and I were young – not much older than Jordan – our mother died.” He reached for a box of decorations but her hand on his wrist stilled him.

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her eyes locked to his. “What happened?”

  He had been to a lot of therapy over the years, and he could speak of the events now as though they had happened to someone else. “She was killed in a car accident, on her way to … work.”

  “Oh, Ra’if.” She took the decorations from him and put them on the table. “You must have been devastated.”

  “Yes,” he said with a faraway look in his eyes. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tight to her body, wishing she could offer comfort. “But it was harder on Zami. He was younger, and always very close to her.”

  “And you? You were older and stoic?”

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Something like that.” Except he hadn’t been. He’d taken the easy way out, by obliterating his pain when it became too intense.

  She sighed softly and pressed a kiss against his cheek. She had to stand on tiptoes to reach and her breasts were pressed tantalisingly close.

  “So your dad raised you?”

  Ra’if nodded. How could he tell her that he had been raised in a palace by an army of nannies and nurses that reported to his father? He couldn’t. Not without tipping her off to his identity. And how easy would it then be for her to Google him and discover the truth of his past? Actually, not that easy, he thought with a sense of luck. Zamir had worked tirelessly to keep the worst of Ra’if’s exploits out of the press. A few wild misadventures had been reported, but the truth of his removal from the line of succession had been kept a closely guarded secret. And yet even the truth of his birth right would surely be off putting to someone like Melinda?

  “More or less.” He cleared his throat and stepped out of her arms. “Now, if we don’t keep moving, we’re not going to get anything done.”

  “Forget the tree,” she said quietly. “I can think of better ways to spend the time we have left.”

  His eyes flared at the inference.

  “Melinda …”

  “I want to do this,” she said quietly, staring at him as she lifted the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. She was only wearing a cream vest underneath, and the pattern of her bra showed through the fabric.

  Ra’if’s eyes dropped to it. He was gone.

  The tiny bit of resolve he had to keep this light had evaporated.

  “I presume there’s a bedroom in this enormous place?”

  His smile made all the butterflies in her belly flutter their wings. “Several.”

  “I think we just need one, for now.”

  He shook his head, trying one last time to steady the tilting ship of resolve. “We were going to go slowly. To remember this is just a bit of fun.”

  “Why not have a lot of fun?” She pouted, removing her vest and throwing it towards him. It hit him in the face, enveloping him in her sweet fragrance. His chest rolled with a slam of desire.

  “Because you have half an hour and I do not want to rush this.” Dark colour stained his cheekbones as she slid her skirt down her body, her eyes not leaving his.

  “So you’re telling me,” she murmured, stepping out of her shoes at the same time, and beginning to peel her stockings from her legs. “That you’re going to have me naked in your apartment and refuse to give me what I haven’t been able to stop thinking about?”

  He tilted his head back, his laugh hoarse. He deserved a medal for having resisted her as long as he had.

  “No. I’m not that saintly,” he promised. Her eyes flared and she smiled, adrenalin and desire forming a slick between her legs. He pulled her towards him, his eyes silently communicating with hers, reading her, understanding her. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

  “I know I won’t.”

  The lies he was telling her – rather the truth he was failing to give her – filled him with a sense of guilt. One that was almost equal to his need for her. “We can take it slowly. Get to know one another better. To be sure you’re sure…”

  “My God, Ra’if. I want you to make love to me. Do you want me to write it in blood?”

  He shook his head, finally subduing his good intentions. “No. I want you to scream my name, Azeri.” He lifted her over his shoulder and carried her as though she weighed little more than a feather, through the apartment and into a palatial bedroom on the other side. It was beyond luxurious – it was as though items had been chosen simply based on their financial worth. The bed looked to have golden posts, the carpet was thick wool, so soft it was like walking on clouds, the mirrors had golden frames, the wallpaper was exquisite. It also had the en
ormous windows but with a quick press of a button near the door, they were shuttered closed, given them privacy and almost completely darkness.

  She pushed at his shirt, tearing a button in her haste to remove it. He laughed throatily. “Slow down, jalilah,” he groaned but she shook her head.

  “No time. Please.”

  He nodded, kicking his shoes off and undoing his pants, sliding them down his legs and reaching for her in one motion.

  His arousal surprised her. Her eyes flew to his and he shrugged. “Being near you is foreplay.”

  Her cheeks flushed, but she was flying through the heavens, so thrilled was she with his obvious attraction to her.

  The minute he was naked though, she froze. He was so, so sexy, and his cock was huge. “Oh.” Her eyes flew to his face and she caught the hint of amusement there.

  “You want to do this?” He walked past her, reaching into the bedside drawer and lifting out a condom.

  She nodded, incapable of speech, as he unfurled it over his length. Then he was back in front of her, kissing her, his hands tangling in her hair, roughening it, loosening it, using it to pull her head back so he had full access to her face. He kissed her as though it was their last kiss. It was a kiss of desperate passion. His body pushed hers back onto the bed. She didn’t fight it; she fell willingly, wrapping her legs around his waist, her arms scratching his back.

  “Ra’if,” she screamed, tilting her head back. He took one of her nipples in his mouth, rolling his tongue around its erect tip, making her scream out. With one hand, he parted her legs, stretching them wide on the bed.

  “I’ll go slowly,” he promised into her ear, pressing his tip against her feminine heart.

  It was so good; the promise of what was now imminent made tears sparkle on her eyes. She held her breath and he mistook the gesture.

  “Relax,” he whispered.

  She nodded, a weak smile on her lips. “I am.”

  He thrust a little deeper, and then slowly glided further, allowing her muscles time to adjust to his invasion each step of the way, until she’d taken his entire length.