The Sheikh's Surprise Mistress 3 (Jatar Sheikh Series Book 7)

by Jessica Brooke

  We cruised far out into the ocean, and for the first couple of days all we managed to do was sleep and eat and drink. Even Amir drank heartily, and we both frolicked around the massive ship. We made love many times, and when we were finished I promptly fell into a climax induced stupor. On one night, I woke in the middle of the night and staggered my way to the bathroom. Through the massive picture window, I could see the brilliant full moon and decided to wander up on deck.

  On my way past the bar, I poured myself a glass of wine and then sat in one of the chaise lounges. The air was warm and humid, and I opened my robe to cool off. I felt so wonderful I couldn’t really imagine what I’d done right to deserve this kind of reward. I felt as healthy and happy as I’d ever felt my entire life. I also had a kind of satisfaction deep inside me that I’d never felt before.

  I sipped my wine and let it warm my insides as it smoothly invaded my bloodstream. The ocean was calm, but the slow rocking of the boat soon lulled me into a comfortable sleep. Something about the lapping waves against the hull and the total absences of the noises of civilization were an intoxicating brew. The rest of the inhabitants were also asleep down in the bowels of the enormous ship, so I didn’t feel concerned about my nakedness, and I laid there, enjoying the feel of the briny ocean air against my skin.

  I have no idea how long I’d been asleep, but Amir’s presence woke me. He was settling into the chaise lounge next to mine. “You okay?” he asked, but I could tell he was unconcerned.

  “Yeah, never better.”

  He smiled and then picked up my hand. “It’s a stunning night,” he offered.

  “This whole trip is amazing, Amir. I’m in heaven.”

  “Perhaps I will purchase this ship. I am enjoying the seclusion more than I imagined.”

  “I’d live on this thing if I could. What a wonderful life.”

  He squeezed my hand harder, and then we laid there in silence admiring the moonbeams sparkling on the ocean. About half an hour later, Amir went to the bar and refilled my wine glass and got one for himself. He opened a hatch and produced a large, two person inflatable bed, and with some nearby covers, we made a little camp spot up on the helicopter pad. We giggled together and cuddled and acted like lovesick teenagers who couldn’t get enough of each other. I continued to tell him how happy I was. I also confessed how excited I was at the prospect of having another child with him.

  “I am surprised you are not already with another.”

  “Me too, after being your sex goddess for the past month.”

  He snorted at my lewd comment. “You are so crude at times. But I suppose it is something I will just have to try harder to achieve.”

  I toasted him and sipped my wine, “Yeah, keep making deposits. I’ll enjoy the free drinking time.”

  “This is true,” he absently commented as he pulled me up closer.

  He then growled and gripped my hip, “I want you up here, in the night air, Julie.”

  I giggled, “Okay!”

  He rolled up on top of me and settled himself between my thighs, prodding into the soft skin of my apex. I touched his face and then dug my fingers into his thick hair, holding his face to mine while I kissed him passionately. He entered me slowly, and I felt everything inch of his heat as he spread me out and inhabited my core. My newly healed skin was tingling with feeling, and I rolled my pelvis to give him a better angle. He groaned and held my hip with one hand as he began to take me slowly on the helicopter pad of the yacht. The air tickled our bare skin, and the night air swallowed our moans of delight.

  I clung to him and rolled with his movements, and we became one person. I lost track of where I ended and he began. He was drained from our earlier session, so he could take his time, which he did, and it seemed as if we made love for hours. He lifted my woozy body—both from the liquor thick in my system and the sex-induced endorphins he was now producing in multitude—and thrust into me, bruising me with his grip and his strength. My head swam, and I climaxed over and over until I almost passed out and again felt as if I were down in a deep well. My vison blurred and my hearing echoed, and he didn’t cease. I heard my own voice, but it seemed as if from a great distance, “Oh God, oh God—AMIR!”

  “Mine—mine—you are mine!” My huge warrior husband growled at my ear.

  We collapsed in a pile of parts, and I remember nothing of the time between him releasing deep inside me and the span until I woke up, smothered by his body. It was still dark, darker than earlier since the moon had traveled across the sky and disappeared into the ocean. It must have been near dawn, and the ocean was picking up as well and the boat was rocking more than it had in the days previous. I pushed on Amir’s shoulder and he groggily rolled away from me and then promptly fell back asleep with a loud snore. I sat up and my head swam. I picked up my glass and downed the last of my whiskey and waited for it to warm my throat. When I stood, I swayed with the boat and staggered to the railing, hoping it would support me. For a moment, I thought I was going to throw up, so I leaned over and began gaging. I hated vomiting and scolded myself for drinking so much on an empty stomach.

  My eyes teared, and I took my hand off the railing to wipe at my cheeks, which turned out to be a huge mistake because the boat was hit by a large swell and rocked dramatically. The ocean below sped towards me as the boat swayed and then we rebounded, and like the recoil of after a bungee jump, the railing of the boat flew up and away from the dark water. My head really swam then, and I lost the battle to remain conscious. I don’t remember the fall. I do remember the feeling of oneness with the water and the darkness.

  Chapter Eleven

  I remember the darkness most of all. And the quiet—the dead silence full of soundless music. It was the strangest experience of my short life. Looking back, I guess I was near death. I’d thought I’d been dying when I almost lost Amsi and lost so much blood. But, I guess that was not the case. Now though? Now was an entirely different matter and this time I know I heard my grandmother’s voice. I turned and tried to find her, but she was nowhere. It was just complete darkness.

  Nana? Is that you? I can’t see you. I hear you. Where are you?

  Then everything crashed in on me—so much sound—too much sound! My head felt like it was about to explode. It hurt. Amir was frantic. Why was he so hysterical?

  “Julie! Julie! Come back to me!”

  Ouch, that hurts. Stop pressing so hard on my sternum. Too hard. I can’t take a breath. Stop sitting on me. What is happening?

  “Julie! Oh Allah in the heavens do not take her! Julie!”

  Take me? Oh there, my husband’s lips to mine. Oh shit, I need to cough. Amir, move. I’m sick.

  I rolled to my side and gaged through an ocean of water as it evacuated my lungs and stomach.

  “Oh thank the heavens!” Amir wept out. He was literally sobbing. I guess it was from fear of losing me.

  It was then I noticed I was wet, and I finally extrapolated I’d fallen in. I looked up to meet Amir’s extremely concerned expression. I also noticed his hair was wet and he was dripping, although he was just as naked as I was. I croaked out, “Did you save me? What happened?”

  He pushed damp hair off my face and helped me to a sitting position. He looked over my head and shouted, “She is okay. Please confirm the chopper is on the way.” He refocused on me as I gripped at my head. “Just stay still, love. We will get you to a hospital soon.”

  I winced when I tried to talk, “Did I hit my head? It hurts so bad. I really need to lay down.”

  “No, sweetheart—no, you have to stay awake. Yes, you hit your head on the way over. Hard! You hit it really hard—that is what woke me.”

  I swayed and fell into his arms. “I need to sleep.” I closed my eyes and let him hold me, and I gave into the darkness beckoning me.

  The helicopter roused me, but only enough to notice Amir carrying me. I was dressed now, or in a robe or something soft was wrapped around me. His strong arms gave me a sense of safety, and I curled int
o his chest. “Don’t leave me.” I think I said it. I know I thought it.

  “I won’t, baby. Never leave you. Can you stay awake for me? Please?”

  I tried, just for him I did try. It was impossible.

  The next thing I remember were the lights overhead as I was being wheeled through a hospital corridor. The doctor forced open my eyelids and pierced my skull with a laser beam. I know I screamed in agony at that point. I heard myself and try as I may, I couldn’t stop. I heard the words, “Yeah, it’s bad.” Once again time drifted at a strange pace, and I don’t remember anything except the pain. My head felt as if someone was hitting it repeatedly with a hammer, and I wanted to scream or die—or both.

  I don’t know if I dreamt it, but Amir told me about a baby boy named Amsi, who supposedly missed me. I couldn’t remember anything though, and accessing information made my head hurt even more, so I gave up. When my thoughts drifted, I wondered who the boy was and why I was being told about him.

  Everything began to blur. All my thoughts swirled and then seemed to evaporate entirely. I could only remember being a child myself. Playing on the farm that my grandparents owned. Rocking in the porch swing on my grandmother’s lap. The way her homemade gingerbread men tasted. My present became my past, and I forgot who I was as an adult. A calming male voice told me he loved me. This same disembodied voice must have belonged to the hand that held mine, but I didn’t know who he was, or why he loved me.

  I’ve heard we forget pain once it’s left us. I, for one, will remember this span of days for the rest of my life. The pain inside my skull—in my brain—was so intense I ached to die. I would have sold my soul to make it stop. I suffered through it though, the sensation that my brain had swelled and my skull was too small to hold it. That feeling as if it would just explode—anything to relieve the pressurewould have been okay with me. I felt as if I’d been sleeping for a very long time—like maybe weeks had passed, but I wasn’t certain.

  I felt the doctor’s hands on me before I heard his voice, “Mrs. Rashid? Julie? Can you hear me?”

  I could hear him, but it felt as if it would take an unbelievable amount of effort to answer him. I tried by lifting my eyelids. That was difficult, but I did it, and then I tried to focus my blurry vision. I saw the doctor first, and he nodded at me, repeating his earlier question. I fluttered my lids as response. He nodded again. He asked, although it wasn’t really a question, “I am going to check your pupils.” I winced. I remember the last time he used the laser beam on me.

  “I don’t think it will hurt as much now,” he offered and then loomed over me. He spoke quietly, and not as if he were speaking to me, maybe just reminding himself. “The swelling has gone down considerably. Now the question is if you remember anything. Amnesia is often a consequence of such a bad concussion.”

  So I’d had a concussion? It felt more like Goliath had used my head for a game of croquet—but whatever.

  The doctor pulled back and asked, “What is your name? Do you know what year it is?”

  I wrinkled my forehead, thinking. The room seemed to take a collective breath and hold it. I darted a glance to the man standing next to the doctor, and my heart skipped a beat—you could hear it on the monitor. The doctor moved quickly to pick up my wrist to check my blood pressure. He obscured the view of Amir’s very worried countenance. I had no voice, but I breathed out, “Julie. My name is Julie.”

  The doctor scribbled on his pad. “That’s wonderful, but I gave that away in the beginning.” He slid to the side and there was Amir. The heart monitor did its strange fluctuation again. This time the doctor grinned.

  “Amir. He is my husband,” I croaked.

  The doctor nodded and scribbled, “Excellent, Julie.” Amir gave me a strained grin and blink of encouragement. The doctor asked again, “Do you know what year it is?”

  I didn’t. I opened my mouth to speak, but I didn’t have an answer. Amsi cried and the heart monitor jumped all over the place. “Amsi! My baby! I remember my baby.” I stretched my arms out, reaching for him. The nanny came to me and settled him in my arms. I cooed to him in Arabic, “Such a good little prince. I missed you.”

  “Well, she remembers the language and the two of you, but apparently not much else. This is normal, however. Give her a few more weeks and it should all start to siphon back in.” The doctor slid my chart into the end of the bed and left the room.

  Amir shuffled off the nanny and the nurse until it was just the three of us. Amsi was cuddled against my chest, and I was petting him and kissing his head over and over. Amir crawled up next to us and pulled me against his side. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. I knew exactly what he was feeling and the wordless relief now saturating both of us was enough. We both knew I was going to be okay.

  Chapter Twelve

  I stayed in the hospital another week and then was sent home. We’d been in the same, uber nice hospital where Amir had done most of his recovery from the car accident. The same one with our now famous romp in the arboretum. Today was supposed to be my last night, and then tomorrow I would go to our estate in Abu Dhabi. Amir was taking me to the inner gardens right this second. He leaned over my shoulder as he wheeled me through the lavish hospital—the walls covered in magnificent artwork.

  “You have no idea how relieved I am,” he said quietly. “I once again feared losing you.”

  I was still sketchy on all the minute details of life, like dates and times and years. Nothing that would alter how I functioned as a mother and wife, but it certainly was going to take me a while to get back all the mental capabilities I once had. Although, I kinda didn’t care. I was happy to be with Amir again, and to me it felt as if we’d been apart for eons, not just the week they said I was in the coma. My sense of humor was still intact, thankfully, and I quipped, “If I’d just stayed in your arms none of this would have happened.”

  “No, if you’d not been drunk like a frat girl, none of this would have happened.”

  I shrugged, “Yeah, truth. I’m sorry, Amir.”

  “For drinking like a fish?”

  I got defensive, “You said it was okay.”

  “Ahhh, so you remember that much.”

  “Did I trip or what?”

  “You appeared to be sick. The boat heaved along with you and then all of a sudden I saw your feet where your head should have been and then I heard your head hit the hull—it was a solid impact. I was groggy, and honestly, I’d had more than I should have, as well, but the sound your head made against the boat was enough to send me flying.”

  “You dove in after me?”

  “Without thought!”

  “I would have died.”

  “You would have—there is no doubt in my mind I came within seconds of losing you that night.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I reiterated.

  Amir gave a hearty exhale and joked, “If only I’d been able to catch you, my love.”

  I thought he kinda did catch me, but we were now entering the gorgeous indoor gardens, so I didn’t say much in response. I’d spent some alone time in here when Amir was unresponsive and healing, and I’d grown to love the place. It brought me a sense of serenity and peace I rarely felt anywhere else. We rounded the corner, and I breathed in the purified oxygen. “I love it in here,” I muttered.

  “Indeed, my lovely bride. As do I.” He parked my wheelchair next to the same bench, although this time it was him attending me. “Do you remember how you pleased me in this very spot?”

  I blushed, “I do remember that.”

  He grinned, “Yes, you have retained only the important memories.”

  “Can we walk around? I’m really stiff.” There was nothing wrong with my body, just my brain, and I felt the need to move and get my heart pumping. “I need to do something cardio. My blood feels stagnant.” Amir helped me up and out of the wheelchair, and I slowly unfurled my limbs. I held my back and acted like I was a hundred. “One week in bed makes one weak,” I quipped.

&n
bsp; Once we were in motion, Amir held my hand and ambled next to me as I minced my steps. “I could think of at least one thing that perhaps might offer you some cardio workout.” He minced his words just as much as I was my steps.

  I giggled, “I bet you can Mr. Perpetually Hard.”

  He barked a quick laugh, “Ahhh, see you remember much.”

  We rounded the corner and a small round garden table lay before us, set up with a picnic lunch. I squealed, “Is this for us?”

  Amir beamed, “For my queen. All your favorites.” He pulled out a chair and helped me sit. Then he unwrapped something and presented me with fresh, crispy bacon. “Your favorite food, my love?” I mmmmmed my way through three perfectly cooked pieces and smiled contentedly.

  I murmured, “I missed you bacon.” Amir laughed and poured some water as I helped myself to cheese, apple pieces, and some fresh blueberries. “Perfect lunch. You sure do know me.”

  He toasted me with the water, and I did in the same in return. He proudly said, “You are my other half, I know you intimately.” He sipped the water and in as serious of a tone as I’ve ever heard from him, he continued, “Julie, I often tell you of my love for you. I, however, do not magnify the explanation. I feel I must tell you now, I must verbalize what you mean to me, why I love you.”

  “I know you love me, Amir. It’s abundantly clear.”

  “I do not verbalize it, however, and since the accident, I feel I must.”

  I blushed crimson, I knew how he felt about me, but the prospect of him putting it into words did strange things to my insides.

  “In my previous marriage—which was arranged, by the way—I did still love her. She was a wonderful woman. Well bred, refined, elegant. An excellent mother. All of the attributes a man wishes for in a wife. We grew to love each other.” He ran a hand through his hair and paused.