Christmas Bride for the Sheikh

by Carol Marinelli

  But then she saw him.

  Sheikh Prince Hazin al-Razim.

  He wore a suit that was as black and superbly cut as his hair. His tie was loosened and he was so stunning that he actually stopped Flo in her tracks.

  How the hell did a person even begin to approach that? she pondered, thinking of her suggestion to Maggie to approach casually. And then she thought of Maggie alone in a cabin with him for two hours!

  Had she been the one alone with him on a yacht, they would not have been talking!

  Hazin was as utterly gorgeous as that.

  He wasn’t banned from bringing in his phone, of course.

  In fact, he was checking it and Flo could tell he was getting ready to leave.

  * * *

  Indeed, Hazin was about to go.

  He was supposed to have met his older brother an hour ago and hadn’t been looking forward to it in the least. He did not need another lecture on taming his ways, but Ilyas had been insistent that they meet.

  And then hadn’t bothered to show.

  They were not close. In fact, thanks to their upbringings, Hazin and Ilyas were practically strangers. They had been segregated as children and when Hazin had proven rather a handful he had been sent to be schooled in London.

  Ilyas wore the robe in the relationship and Hazin the suit.

  Ilyas would be King.

  Hazin simply did not care for any of that and did all he could not to return home, for there was no welcome waiting, just lectures on his behaviour that had been on repeat from as far back as Hazin could remember. As well as that, he loathed how his father ran the country, for it was in the same way in which King Ahmed parented—no empathy and with disdain for those he was charged to care for.

  To Hazin’s eyes, Ilyas was as staid and cold as his father.

  There was no message on his phone to explain his brother’s lateness, and looking up Hazin glanced around the place.

  He was sick of Dion’s and the empty, painted people.

  But then he saw her.

  Or rather he heard the barman laugh at something and looked to its source.

  She was ordering a glass of wine and a sparkling water and as she waited for her drinks she turned to look around. Her china-blue eyes met his.

  ‘Hi,’ she said.

  He gave a very slight nod, but he didn’t find her forwardness particularly fetching. She was gorgeous, that was a given, but Hazin was more than used to women making a move on him and the gloss had long since worn off.

  Flo could sense his disinterest and that he was about to leave; she wondered what she should say and how best to introduce herself. She glanced towards the main door and wished Maggie would arrive, but there was no sign of her. ‘I’m waiting for a friend.’

  Hazin said nothing, for it had nothing to do with him.

  ‘She’s late,’ Flo pushed.

  Hazin accompanied his tight smile with a put-down. ‘And I’m leaving.’

  He had no interest in offering to keep her company. He was tired of being chatted up just for his Royal title and the empty sex that followed.

  These days, he practically had to pat them down first to check for cameras anyway.

  Then he watched as she stifled a yawn.

  It was not the response Hazin was used to. Usually they hung on his every word.

  Yes, he was jaded.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Flo said. ‘I just came from work...’

  She was tired and yet also energised in the magnetic presence of Hazin, and unsure whether to tell him who her friend was and that Maggie would soon be arriving, but then he asked a question.

  ‘What do you do for work?’

  ‘I’m a midwife.’

  He pulled such a horrified face that it made her laugh.

  And then Hazin became curious.

  ‘I haven’t seen you here before...’ Hazin said, because he would have remembered if he had.

  She wasn’t just pretty, she was animated and a shade different from the rest, he thought.

  ‘No, I used to come here quite a lot but I’ve banned myself,’ Flo said, and took a sip of her wine.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m not telling you.’ She smiled.

  Oh, hurry up, Maggie, she thought, because he was utterly, recklessly stunning and now that he was talking to her she could peek shamelessly without looking odd.

  He had smoky grey eyes and his skin was a burnt caramel. As for his mouth, she couldn’t not watch it when he spoke, and those plump lips needed to be kissed.

  She should have gone out more, Flo thought, for she felt like a convent schoolgirl set free.

  ‘Do you want to get a table?’ Hazin offered, because all of a sudden he wasn’t that jaded and was very much up for being used.

  Well, a table would be perfect actually, Flo thought. It meant he wouldn’t be leaving and Maggie would get here to find them both sitting and talking, like sensible adults.

  Only right now Flo didn’t want to be sensible, and she was suddenly nervous about going and sitting down.

  There was a crackle of awareness between them, stronger than she had ever known.

  ‘I doubt we’d get a table...’ she said, terrified of her own lack of resistance to him, and then pulled a little face behind his back as he had a word with the bar.

  ‘Done.’

  But they didn’t get a table.

  Hazin and his glass of water were worthy of a booth.

  He was so broad shouldered that the people parted like the Red Sea for him and she should have walked a smooth path behind, except her thighs felt like they were made of rubber.

  ‘After you,’ he said, and she slid into a velvet-lined seat and let out a tense breath of relief when he took the seat opposite, instead of sliding in beside her.

  ‘I’m Hazin.’

  She noticed he did not offer his title.

  This man did not need a title to have her feeling weak from the waist down.

  He thought that perhaps, if she hadn’t been coming to Dion’s for a while, she might not know who he was. It was a refreshing thought—to lose the burden of it for a night.

  ‘You?’ he asked.

  ‘Flo,’ she said. ‘Florence.’

  ‘Like that old nurse?’

  ‘Florence Nightingale?’ she checked, and he nodded. ‘Well, she wasn’t old in her day,’ Flo corrected him. ‘Do you perhaps mean that nurse from olden times?’

  ‘I do.’

  She smiled.

  Hazin was well schooled but English was his second language and occasionally he slipped. Anyway, language and its intricacies could hardly be expected to be at the forefront of his mind when in the presence of such loveliness.

  He liked her matter-of-fact correction that had come with a smile. Hazin had been raised to know any deviation from perfection would not be tolerated.

  Yes he was wild, but whether it was a misspelt birthday card to his father, a torrid fling, or being born second in line, the verdict was always the same.

  Not good enough.

  So he no longer tried and instead happily disappointed everyone.

  His sins would never be forgiven so Hazin had long since stopped apologising for them.

  It made no difference when he did.

  ‘So,’ he asked, wanting to know more of her, ‘why have you banned yourself?’

  ‘Because the people here are terribly shallow.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And my ex comes here...’ Flo explained just a little.

  ‘Were you hoping to see him?’

  ‘God, no.’ Flo grimaced at the very thought. ‘I’m not just avoiding Dion’s, I’ve been staying home a lot of late.’

  ‘For how long?’ />
  ‘All this year.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m off men.’

  He looked at Flo and he wondered, in a way that was unusual for him, what on earth had happened that she would hide her light away.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  Flo hadn’t told anyone.

  Not a single soul.

  Yet his eyes looked right into hers and his smile was non-judgmental and kind.

  But, no, she would not be telling him.

  ‘So are you off all men?’

  She swallowed because just a short while ago her response would have been an unequivocal yes.

  Except he was ravishing.

  And funny.

  But mainly he was ravishing.

  His eyes weren’t a uniform grey—this close she could see there were little flecks of green and amber.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Isn’t it a bit extreme?’ he asked. ‘To hide yourself away...?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Flo said. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Would you like another drink?’ he offered.

  ‘No, thank you.’ She glanced at his empty glass. ‘Can I get you one?’

  She was frantic to get some control here—to go and stand at the bar again so she could remind herself how to breathe, but Hazin would not let her get away that easily.

  ‘I don’t drink,’ he said. ‘I can have your friend’s soda water. It doesn’t look as if she’s going to show.’

  ‘No.’

  She looked around the bar and wondered what to do. Perhaps Maggie had changed her mind about letting Ilyas know about the baby.

  Flo felt a little lost without her phone.

  And then she saw him.

  Her ex.

  The reason why she had been hiding for so long.

  Bastard.

  She flicked her eyes away from her past and back at Hazin.

  At least this man didn’t pretend he wasn’t one.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Hazin asked, because he didn’t usually lose his audience.

  ‘My ex is here,’ Flo said, and she held her breath as out of the corner of her eye she saw him make his way over.

  Hazin watched her very pretty face pale rather than flush and he knew she’d been badly hurt.

  And then he knew why.

  Hazin was a regular here and had watched this creep pick up someone on one night and bring his wife for a meal the next.

  Hazin might be wild now, but he had been married once and he’d taken his vows seriously, so, when it was clear from her panicked silence that she could not deal with her ex, Hazin was more than happy to.

  ‘Flo’s busy,’ Hazin said in a surly tone. ‘Please leave.’

  ‘Now look here—’ the man started, but then Hazin stood up.

  ‘I did ask politely,’ Hazin said and Flo could not believe there was about to be a fight.

  What the hell?

  He was more than up for a fight, but instead he gestured with his head for Marcus.

  ‘I just want to speak to Flo,’ the man insisted.

  ‘Well, you can’t,’ Hazin said, ‘because, as of now, you are barred from this establishment.’

  It was Marcus’s problem now because, as Flo’s ex loudly protested as he was steered away, Hazin took his seat again. ‘He shan’t trouble you again,’ Hazin said. ‘At least, not when you’re here.’

  The shadow in the room was gone and she experienced the giddy feeling of some measure of retribution at last.

  Now Flo examined him and no longer did she hide that fact.

  And Hazin did the same.

  She was used to the roaming of male eyes over her body but his eyes did not leave her face.

  And yet his gaze was indecent.

  He traced the curves of her lips with his eyes so thoroughly that Flo fought not to run her tongue over them.

  It felt as if he studied each eyelash in turn until she silently pleaded for him to fully meet her gaze.

  Then when he did it was fire versus fire.

  Beneath the table, she could envision his spread knees for they seemed to encircle hers, which were pressed tightly together. She could feel their surrounding warmth and almost craved the tight pressure of his grip.

  ‘I think I should go,’ Flo said, because it was clear Maggie wasn’t going to show.

  ‘I can’t hear you.’

  Liar, liar, Flo thought as she gazed deep into his eyes, for here in the booth they were sequestered from the thrumming noise of the bar.

  She could say it a little louder, reach for her purse and leave, or she could lean in a little closer to that delicious mouth and repeat what she had just said.

  Or she could simply make the complicated so terribly easy.

  Flo chose the latter—‘Come and sit by me, then.’

  No, she didn’t want another drink, or conversation; she wanted this...

  His kiss.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IT FELT AS if the oxygen masks had tumbled out on the plane, for even before he was seated she reached up for his tie and pulled him in.

  The attraction had been instant, the effect close up magnetic, for they were so strongly drawn to each other that first contact offered Flo a heady feeling of relief. Hazin lowered his head and their mouths met before he was even fully seated. His lips were warm and Flo’s pouted to his.

  Soft and sensual, his mouth claimed hers as he slid into the booth beside her.

  She had never known a kiss like it, for it sent a river of shivers through her and the brief bliss of relief faded for she had to taste his tongue, yet Hazin made her wait. His hands came to her upper arms and he held her steady when she ached to lean into him.

  Still no tongue, just the bruising of his mouth and a breathless rush of desire in an outwardly chaste kiss. Then his mouth left hers and she felt its warm drag against her cheek and the scratch of his jaw as his lips found her ear. His breath was warm and he told her his truth. ‘I want you so badly.’

  His voice was so loaded with lust that it sounded as if he were already inside her.

  Her sex clenched to his words.

  She had no resolve.

  None.

  For a second she sat, his cheek pressed to hers, his ragged sexy breathing in her ear and his hands firm on her arms, and Flo closed her eyes in a vague prayer for common sense to prevail.

  It didn’t.

  Fired on by one kiss, her body crackled like a chip in hot oil and she offered her response to his indecent request. ‘Take me to bed.’

  As soon as the night air hit her, sense would appear, Flo reassured herself as they stood. He took her by the hand and she was rather glad for the support as he led her through the bar.

  But not to the street.

  No cool air to hit her.

  No car or taxi to calm her mind.

  They were in an elevator. He hit the button and even that jab of his finger had her almost fold. And then that same finger stroked her nipple and she simply watched, entranced.

  Was it her self-imposed ban on men that had her so frantic? Flo wondered. But, no, that wasn’t right, for she had never felt like this in her life.

  She was turned on to her very core. When he removed his hand she took it and pressed his palm to her face then deep-kissed his hand.

  He moaned and said something in Arabic and then, when the elevator doors opened, Flo dropped his hand and they stood for a second facing each other.

  She had to have his mouth.

  Yet he just gave a slow smile and with an utter lack of haste he turned and walked down the long corridor.

  For a hotel, there was a distinct lack of doors, Flo thought vag
uely, for her mind was muddled by him.

  They came to one, though, and he opened it. They stepped in and she realised the lack of doors was because his suite took up the entire floor.

  A rainy London night glittered before them. Flo could see the Houses of Parliament, and Big Ben told her it was after midnight, yet the landmarks, so loved and familiar to her, were now altered in her mind. How could she ever gaze upon the time again and not remember the feel of him coming up behind her?

  His hands dealt with her zipper and she just stood there as her dress fell to the floor.

  She turned her head, needing his touch, for little slivers of doubt were raining in.

  ‘Kiss me...’ she said.

  ‘Of course.’

  But still he denied her the taste of his mouth for his lips went to her shoulder and he tasted her there as he slowly removed her bra.

  ‘Hazin...’

  ‘Do you mean, kiss you here?’ he asked, and turned her around so he could kiss her breast.

  Softly, slowly and indecently.

  The doubt he’d sparked was intentional, Flo realised, and it now felt delicious. The hovering of uncertainty was dizzying as he kissed down her stomach.

  Hazin removed her knickers and then he kissed her calves as he carefully slipped off her shoes.

  ‘Sit down,’ he told her.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘You choose.’

  She couldn’t.

  Flo looked around at the stunning surroundings and blinked in confusion. She was naked while he was fully dressed and she was actually trembling with desire.

  ‘How about here?’ Hazin suggested as he indicated one of the high-backed wooden chairs from a large polished dining table.

  ‘It doesn’t look very comfortable.’

  ‘Poor Flo,’ he said as he brought the chair over.

  The wood was cold and hard on her bottom and she wasn’t certain she liked this game, yet she complied willingly.

  He was still completely dressed—he hadn’t even removed his jacket—and the only concession to her nakedness was that he further loosened his tie.

  ‘Are you going to spank me?’ Flo asked, curious because she had never been spanked before. In fact, she would absolutely refuse it.

  Not with him...

  ‘Why would I spank you?’ he asked. ‘When you’ve been so good?’