He grunted. “You have no idea. You have a magic mouth.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
“Oh, do they?” he asked, propping himself up on either side of her as he wiggled between her legs. “I’d love to know who ‘they’ are.”
She giggled as the heat of his pelvis met hers. Her legs splayed open, and he dipped down for a kiss, one melting into a second and a third. He kissed her hungrily, sloppily, all the frustration and adoration and emotion of the past few weeks pouring out of him. He got lost in her lips, her perfect sweet lips that could always lift him or ease his mind. Kissing her was like that—a drug, really, one that he’d forgotten how much he needed after two years apart.
Willow moaned through a kiss, clutching at his head with her hands. Nasser pushed himself between her legs, his cockhead seeking out that perfect heat, and then he eased himself inside. Damp silk met him, followed by fireworks and a long groan as he surged forward, claiming more and more of her. Willow tossed her head back, arching against him. Inviting him deeper. He pushed himself as deep as he could go, burying himself until there was no more space to claim, and then he stilled, his chest heaving as his body roiled with sensations.
“Fuck, Willow,” he said, tugging at her earlobe with his teeth. “You feel so amazing.”
“I know, babe,” she moaned, moving against him, urging the friction. He rocked into her, dipping his head, skating his lips over the swell of her breasts. He caught a nipple between his teeth, and she inhaled sharply. “God. Why is it so good?”
He smiled as he traced his tongue around the pebbled ridge of her nipple. “Because it’s us.”
He pulled out of her, gripping her by the hips, and then eased himself inside again, so, so slowly. She groaned, hooking her ankles behind his back.
It was true. The two of them always just felt better. He’d tested this theory extensively on his two-year hiatus from love and relationships. And even with all his wandering, all his seeking, he’d still managed to end up right back where he began. With Willow in his arms, between his legs, the only woman who had ever been able to conjure this crazy feeling zipping through his blood.
And that alone seemed to be the proof that they did have something special. Even with all the frustration and the overplanning and the long-standing tensions.
Right now, in this moment, none of that mattered. It was insignificant. All he could feel was this pulsing, true emotion. His love for Willow. He surged forward again, the last shred of his control dissolving as the orgasm crashed through his body.
Willow clawed at his back as his abs jerked and spasmed, the pleasure filling his limbs. He went leaden and heavy then, and he propped himself up before he collapsed on top of her.
“Holy shit,” he croaked.
Her eyes had the glossy sheen of satisfaction. He’d felt her pussy tighten around him. Sometimes just his pushing inside her was enough for her to come. He brushed his lips against hers and then rolled over to her side.
“That was perfect,” she said, eyelids drifting open and shut lazily. She ran her fingers over the smooth plane of his chest. Just as she always used to do. It felt like their secret handshake. The hundreds of tiny ways she told him she loved him. His chest tightened, and he reached for the covers, pulling the soft sheet over top of them.
“I’m gonna fall asleep now,” she warned, voice already distant.
“That’s okay, babe. You mind if I do some work before I go to bed?”
She mumbled something, nestling against the pillow. “My laptop is right there. You can use it.”
“Great. Night, babe.” He smoothed his lips against her forehead again and eased out of bed as she nuzzled into her spot. He couldn’t help but smile, watching her there, angelic and sated. There was no better feeling than this. Having Willow back in his bed, in his life. Her belly full of his growing child.
Sex smoothed things over for him. When he felt like his patience was being tried with her overexuberance about the damn calendar, making love reminded him why he’d fallen for her. And if that’s how the balance had to work—frustration, sex, frustration, sex—then he’d be fine with that. Seemed like as good an approach as any.
Nasser tugged on his briefs and then picked up Willow’s laptop, which was still sitting open on a table near the bed. He sat cross-legged on the couch in the corner of the room, quickly logging into her computer.
About a million windows were still open from the last time she’d used it. Total Willow style. Nasser started to minimize them all—he’d been stupid enough once to directly close them when they dated the first time around, which of course had prompted one of their biggest fights of all time. One of the screens caught his eye. A folder of what looked like bookmarks and other documents. The folder was labeled “ESCAPE.”
Nasser knit his brows together, wondering what escape meant for Willow. She and that word had long been negatively associated. The dark side of his curiosity urged him to probe a bit into this folder. Even though it was clearly hers—and clearly private—he wanted to know more.
Nasser clicked a few links at random. The first screen to pop up was a how-to article detailing the steps of applying for a European visa as a US citizen. The next link showcased some traveler’s year-long route through Asia. Yet another link was an article written in confessional style of a twenty-something’s irritations about living in Germany for two years at the time of the article.
He couldn’t help himself from clicking through the list, but once he realized he’d wasted a half hour by spying on her saved links, he knew he had to stop. Frustrations simmered inside him again, all the goodwill of their lovemaking completely erased.
Here they were again—right back to where they started. Where they had a good thing going but Willow was always ready to jump ship. It had been true back then, and it was true again. She’d apparently been planning for some sort of long-term move to Europe and hadn’t thought of mentioning it to him even once. What kind of bullshit was that? Especially now that she was carrying his child!
Nasser was steaming as he opened a browser and tried to focus on his email, but it was impossible. Any progress they’d made over the past few weeks had been reduced to rubble. Because apparently, no matter how much time went by, Willow was always on the verge of bolting.
And suddenly it made sense. She was only on board for the start of this school. She wasn’t contracted to see it through long-term or be part of the administration. They hadn’t talked about what her next step would be.
And Nasser had found out, whether she wanted him to or not.
15
The next few days were a flurry of activity on the school front. Resumes were rolling in at a pace that Willow couldn’t even keep track of. And it wasn’t her responsibility to track them anymore. It was Nasser’s, since he’d offered to take on more tasks with the early administration.
Except she could see that he wasn’t making headway on the resumes. Not at all. She hesitated to even check the shared calendar for evidence of his use. She already knew the answer. Nasser hadn’t looked at it once, and she still hadn’t figured out the best way to address this ballooning source of tension between them.
And since she didn’t know how to bring it up, she didn’t know how to tell Nasser that he was really letting his tasks fall by the wayside. It meant more work for her, which she would gladly do in the name of the school. After all, this project’s success rested solely on her shoulders.
But with Nasser walking that fine line between lover and colleague and irritated partner, she wanted to tread carefully. This was a whole new world now. One that she was hesitant to upset too much. Besides, he seemed busy with his own projects beyond the new school. She tried to reason with herself—that was probably the reason for this distance she’d felt spring up between them. Usually a great night of sex cured everything, but their sex the other night had only seemed to compound things.
They still shared a bed at night, and usually breakfast in the m
orning, but he seemed distracted. Lost in his phone. Only halfway listening whenever she tried to break the ice or engage him somehow.
It had to be the stress of the baby. The school progress. His own work. The wedding. Everything. There was a lot going on now, and each day, her own anxiety seemed to multiply regarding the opening of the school. Wondering if things would be ready in time for the family tours. Whether they’d have the full staff trained and ready to go by opening day.
She tried not to think of the details too much, because it left her heart racing and chest tight. All she could do was move forward. Keep plodding along and trust that her immaculate preparation would pay off as it always did.
Except your immaculate preparation caused you to screw up the visa.
That hiccup in her plans always came back to her. Circling like a shark around a lost swimmer. She couldn’t figure out if her mistake would turn out to be a blessing or a curse. Already, she felt like she had an unexpected blessing blossoming in her belly. But rehashing old wounds with Nasser? Facing down a second time these demons that had driven them apart two years ago?
Seemed more curse than anything.
But it would only be a curse if she saw it that way. She was determined to turn things around. Not let it get her down. And the best way she could see to do that was via lavish surprises.
It was no secret Nasser was a child of wealth. He responded to luxury like a kitten curling up in front of a fireplace. She wanted to surprise him with an overhaul of their bedroom to include a fully stocked and well-equipped nursery. She’d even include state of the art tech, like motion-activated nighttime cameras and a bath station with totally unnecessary spa jets to massage their little baby’s bottom. She couldn’t wait for him to find out about and fall in love with the plan. She could see it uniting them, bridging the undercurrent of anxieties about the baby and the future and all of it.
Willow had put the appointment with the contractor into their shared calendar, and as she lingered near the front of the palace, awaiting the contractor, she mentally prepared herself for Nasser to be MIA once more.
It shouldn’t surprise her, but it did disappoint her. The shared calendar for her was a way to bring them together, to be involved in all the important aspects of their newly shared lives. The best way to send him sweet notes about the status of their joint life.
Except Nasser wanted no part of it.
She wished it didn’t sting even half as badly as it did.
The contractor arrived, a portly older gentleman with raven hair and smiling eyes. They chatted as she led them down the palace hallways toward the bedroom, his tool belt rustling as they walked.
“Here’s the bedroom,” Willow said as they breezed inside. She’d been sure to make the bed and hide their messy clothes. She glanced toward the bedroom door, still hoping that Nasser might be on his way. Desperate to see him step into the room, apologizing for some random holdup, already knowing that she’d organized this surprise for him.
But he didn’t show up. Of course he didn’t.
“It’s quite large,” she went on, her throat tightening, “and I think that my main question is whether or not we need to utilize some of the space of the adjacent bedroom, or if we can get the nursery inserted without creeping into the room next door.”
The contractor hummed as he checked out the room. “Your measurements were quite accurate. You sure you haven’t worked in construction before?”
Willow laughed. “I suppose I’m just an excellent researcher—and maybe a little overzealous when it comes to new projects.”
“That’s an understatement.” Nasser’s new voice filled the room, and Willow whipped around to find him with a strained smile on his face. Excitement tremored through Willow, but it quickly dimmed once he sent her a shrouded look. Nasser offered his hand to the contractor. “And you are?”
Realization thudded through her. He had no idea about this meeting. He’d probably just happened to swing by. The contractor introduced himself, and to Willlow he asked, “May I see the next room? Just to get a better idea of what we’re working with.”
Willow led him out of the bedroom and over to the adjoining guest room. Nasser followed, a plastic smile on his face, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, which meant that he must have just gotten back from the gym.
He grabbed her by the elbow to prevent her from going inside the guest room.
“What’s going on here?” he asked in a low voice.
“It’s the contractor,” she said, exasperation building inside her. Like it always did. “This was on the calendar. The one you said you were using?”
“Fine. A contractor. But why?” he demanded.
She blinked, hardly able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Oh, I don’t know Nasser, why don’t you check your phone to see exactly where I already spelled all this out for you, days in advance?”
His mouth thinned to a line. “I don’t have time for your stupid fucking calendar. And I don’t have time for whatever you’re planning here. You think you can just change my room without even asking me?”
Her mouth parted, and all she could do was stare up at him. God, this was supposed to be a fun surprise. Not an earth-shattering devastation.
“I thought we were both going to be living here,” she said. “With a new baby. I thought we were going to be married and, I don’t know, living together for the rest of our lives?”
Nasser’s laugh was so bitter it made her want to crumble.
“Oh, sorry. I got that ‘for the rest of our lives’ part wrong, didn’t I?” she said, resting her hands on her hips.
“Do I have to remind you,” Nasser spat, “that this engagement is fake so you can stay a few extra months for the school?”
His words came down on her like a sledgehammer. She couldn’t even find the words to respond. The contractor came out of the guest room a moment later, and they both whipped around to face him. Willow gave her best attempt at a smile, but it wavered at the edges.
“I think what I’d like to do,” the contractor said, “is draw up two plans. One where we don’t touch the extra room, and one where we use all the space we need.”
Willow nodded hard, swallowed the knot in her throat. “Very good.”
“Since you already sent me the blueprints, I think I can have something drawn up by the end of the week.”
“Great.” Her voice wavered now. She was a half second away from losing her shit entirely. “Thanks for coming out.”
Nasser offered his hand, and the contractor took his leave. She watched him go. Nasser stormed into the bedroom, and she reluctantly followed.
Willow slammed the bedroom door shut behind her. Nasser was by the back window, palm pressed to the frame.
“Is this seriously still a fake arrangement to you?” she demanded.
He answered without turning toward her. “Of course it is. I’m helping you out.”
“Even while I’m pregnant with your baby?”
“The baby is a different matter,” Nasser said, his voice low and threatening.
“No. It’s all the same matter. Which is that I love you and I want to be with you and you’re the father of my baby.”
Nasser was quiet for a long time. So long that the silence grew deafening and Willow couldn’t hear anything except the hammering of her heart.
But it was that silence that told her everything she needed to know. He didn’t return the words. He didn’t love her. This fun, whimsical romance had been a nice run. But it wasn’t meant to last.
Whatever had killed them the first time would get them again.
“If you want this to be fake, then fine,” she said, her heart breaking as she said the words. She headed for the closet, where her clothes were stored. Where all of her things had been unpacked for weeks. This was basically her home now—how could he not see that? “I’ll just do my job, and once that’s done, we’ll divorce and I’ll leave. I’ll see you at the wedding.”
&nbs
p; “Good,” Nasser said, sniffing.
She ground her teeth as she packed her things in the closet, her chest so tight she thought she might snap in two. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she grabbed for things with blurry vision, unsure if she was packing her things or his.
“I just don’t understand what’s wrong with you,” she finally said, her voice breaking as she came out of the closet. Nasser was still stony faced and staring out at the gardens.
“The same goes for you,” he spat, dragging his heated gaze to her. “It doesn’t matter how good things are between us. One of us will run away eventually.”
His words left her befuddled and angrier than ever. She stormed back into the closet and packed even faster. This about-face was infuriating, but if he could treat her like that—while she carried his child, no less—then she wanted nothing to do with him. She’d find someone else down the road. She didn’t need to be with him. All she wanted right now was to finish this project and have a healthy pregnancy. The rest would figure itself out later.
Willow kept her mouth clamped shut as she packed, gathering the essentials that she could see through her teary eyes. When she stomped out of the room, her rolling suitcase click-clicking behind her, Nasser didn’t even try to stop her.
As she waited for the ride share at the front of the palace, Willow finally broke down. The tears flowed out of her, her chest hitching with sobs.
She’d never been so betrayed in her life.
So abandoned.
It was like the past all over again, except worse now. Because it wasn’t just her he’d rejected.
It was his baby, too.
16
Nasser skulked around the palace for a few days, in a terrible mood. He knew how much of an ass he was being—to his brothers, to the palace employees, to anyone who dared to breathe near him—but he could barely help it.
His heart was breaking again, and this time the pain roared.
It wasn’t until Fatim called him out before a meeting in the tents that something clicked inside him.
The Sheikh’s Sham Engagement: The Safar Sheikhs Series Book Three Page 8
