ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance

by Knight, Kylie

  Heat rose up from his neck, burning his cheeks as he became acutely aware of how much closer she drew with every step. As she moved to put the coffee down, he shouted wordlessly at her. She jolted and stood up straight.

  “This desk,” he said sharply, all of his arousal and heat redirected as useless anger, “is worth more than what I would be paying you in a year, if you last that long. You don’t just put down a coffee so hot it could warp the wood. It goes here.”

  He pointed to a round wooden coaster cut from a limb of the same tree the desk itself was made from. It was a stupid style thing, but it made him smile. Tallah bowed her head slightly as she set the coffee down on the coaster. Coasters. He used coasters now, apparently. “Yes?” he asked and looked up at her. The smooth lines of her face, the sharp corners of her eyes. She was simply breathtaking. The sort of beauty gods grew jealous over. “Did you need something else?” he added sharply.

  “If that will be all, Mr. Gilmore,” she said and walked from his desk before he could answer.

  He picked up his coffee and took a sip as he watched her walk away. She was even more exquisite from behind. Justin breathed deeply of the scent of his coffee and wondered how long he would be able to keep this up. It didn’t matter, really. He didn’t have a choice. He got a good look at her legs as she positioned herself to open the office door.

  The moment it clicked shut, he sighed. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  Weeks passed. Every day was worse than the last. Either that, or it just grated on her patience and made it seem that way. He was unbelievably rude. She understood that this was his company, he owned the building, and essentially the people that worked for him, but for her that didn’t give him the right to treat people any way he wanted. If this had been any other job, any other boss, she would’ve told him off to his face and walked out. Unfortunately that wasn’t an option. She had bills that demanded she stay right where she was. Just like staying here for a year would open all new doors for her, quitting inside of a year — or, hell, a month — would slam those doors shut forever. What kind of an employee would she be if she did such a thing?

  There were people that would kill to be where she was, fetching this ass of a man his coffee and answering his calls. It was such a simple job, really, but he made it nearly impossible. Every time they spoke, he treated her as some kind of second-class citizen, but then he would demand her time far more than was needed. If she didn’t know any better, it was as though he was calling her into his office just so he could yell at her to her face. Most of the things he found “wrong” weren’t wrong at all, or sometimes he would call her in to yell at her about something she’d had nothing to do with.

  Did he want it fixed? Nope! He just wanted to rant and rave, and then he would sit there, silent, staring fixedly on her eyes until she said something.

  The man needed a woman or something. She’d never seen anyone so wound up.

  As if that wasn’t bad enough, one morning she woke up with a sore throat, stuffed nose, dripping eyes, and feeling like she’d been hit by a damn truck. The joyous risks of working in an office around a thousand coughing, disgusting people. They offered great benefits, including a grip of sick time right off the bat, but she just didn’t feel like she could get away with calling in sick. Not this early. If he yelled at her this much for stuff that wasn’t even her fault, how much more would he rant and rail against her for a legitimate excuse?

  Dragging herself out of bed, she took the hottest shower she could handle hoping the steam would help clear her up. Then, doping herself up on cold medication and dressing in some warm clothes, she went in. As he did every morning, he didn’t even look at her on the way to his office.

  Not wanting to be yelled at, she contained all of her coughs until after that door closed. Her desk was quickly resembling a little tissue snowball reserve. She hated having them up there, but her wastebasket was already filled in her first hour. She’d never felt this sick in all her life.

  The paperwork for his 9 o’clock was easy, and by now getting everything ready and sent off when he wanted them was second-nature. If she’d had to think about it, she was sure she would’ve gotten something wrong. He would’ve yelled. She would’ve sneezed all over him out of quiet revenge, and he would’ve fired her.

  Tallah sniffled to herself, wiped her nose, and thought about how that might not be such a bad idea. Did she really need this job? Her bills, gas, food, she didn’t really need all of that stuff, did she?

  Her head slowly lowered until her forehead was resting on her desk. Sleep. That’s what she needed. Fuck everything else, she was just going to close her eyes right here.

  “Hey,” Steve said as he set Mr. Gilmore’s coffee down. “You look like shit. What’re you doing here?”

  “Thanks,” she croaked and lifted her head. “Nice to see you too.”

  “Oh wow,” he said and backed away from her desk. “You need to go home.”

  “Have a nice day,” she said with a glare.

  Picking up the coffee, she walked to the office doors. Her heart gave a flutter of anxiety. She’d hoped she was able to fake it, but did she really look that bad? He was going to notice. He was going to notice, and yell at her. There was no way to win. Her heart sunk a little inside as she realized the situation. She was there though, so she might as well finish out the day.

  Pulling open the office door, she stepped through and did her best to hold herself up straight instead of walking along like a crooked old woman. She knew her voice would betray her, so instead she just walked up to his desk and set the coffee down right in the center of that damned coaster he insisted on using. It was ugly. The desk was ugly. The whole damn thing was ugly.

  She wanted to hate him, but even as he sat there typing away, she found herself drawn into those damn eyes of his. His strong jaw, the fierceness in his gaze when he was concentrating. Why was she attracted to him even now? She was dying, but still felt a stir inside of her when he bit his upper lip in thought before continuing his work.

  He either hadn’t noticed her or was ignoring her. Either way, she took it as a blessing. As she turned to walk away, a tickle in her nose alerted her. She had just enough time to rasp, “No,” before sneezing. The sneeze released a trail of nasty, and she was quick to wipe it away.

  “Are you sick?” he asked.

  Physical pain shot through her chest and arms at the accusation. What could she possibly say? If she said yes, he was going to yell. If she said no, he was going to yell. “I won’t let it affect my work,” she tried.

  She heard his glasses as they hit his desk, a sure sign he was about to go off. She refused to turn around.

  “An office is like a habitat,” he began. “It’s a self-contained environment. Everyone touches everything. Air is recycled through the vents. When an employee comes into work sick, they not only endanger those forced to interact with them throughout the day, but every person they then must interact with. Do you understand what I’m saying? We give you sick time for a reason. You could’ve just brought an entire epidemic into my building losing me hours of work, thousands of dollars in effort. Who is going to reimburse me for that? Certainly not you.” He gave a smug snort, “I know how much you earn.”

  “That is it!” Tallah spun around, a shot of adrenaline coursing through her veins stronger than any espresso. For a few seconds, it cleared her head. She stomped up to his desk, picked up his coffee and threw it across the office. “I put up with your nonsense every day. You whine like a petulant child! You yell at me for things that aren’t my fault, for stuff I had nothing to do with. My first thought this morning was calling in, but I just knew you’d have something new to yell at me about. I was faking, or lying, or not really that sick. So rather than risk that, I thought I would tough it out. Come in and prove my work ethic. And what do I get?”

  She slammed a fist on his precious poopoo desk. “What do I get! You snidely commenting on my pay? You pompous asshole!”

&nbs
p; Mr. Gilmore turned in his chair to face her head on. He looked to his spilled coffee, then back to her as he slowly pressed the tips of his fingers together in a gentle steeple. “Go home.”

  “I’ll have my desk packed and I’ll be out before you can blink.” Tallah said and turned to leave.

  His voice stopped her. “No. There’s no need to pack your desk.”

  She heard him sigh long and slow through his nose. What was happening? He was firing her, wasn’t he?

  “Sir?”

  “Go home. Rest. Take as much time as you need. I’ll approve extra sick pay if it comes to that. Come back when you’re well.”

  Tallah turned around to see if he had some smug look on his face to show he was joking. When she looked, she’d never seen that expression on his face before. It was almost regretful. “Do you need a doctor’s note, or…?”

  He shook his head. “No. That won’t be necessary. I can clearly see that you’re ill. Just clock out and come back when you’re ready.”

  Tallah swallowed, the buzz of adrenaline fading with every breath. Unable to think of what to say, she just nodded her head and left.

  For a moment she wondered about calling someone to get them to come watch her desk while she was out, but decided against it. He excused her, it can be his problem to find someone to babysit him while she was out.

  She didn’t even remember the drive home. Dressing in her pjs, she laid on her couch and snuggled down with some old movies. She’d never been happier to be home. That afternoon there was a knock on her door. For a moment she debated answering, but couldn’t let it go when they knocked again and rang the doorbell. When she opened the door, there was a man from some restaurant holding a plastic bag with containers inside.

  “Tallah Redfield?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I didn’t order this.”

  “No ma’am,” he said smiling and handed it over. “It was ordered for you.” He handed her a card, then left.

  Tallah took the stuff to the kitchen and set it down on her small round table. Opening the card, it read “I apologize for how I spoke to you. It’s my hope that this helps with a speedy recovery.”

  It was signed by Mr. Gilmore, only he signed just his first name. Justin. She actually didn’t know that was his first name, but after so much paperwork, she knew his handwriting anywhere.

  Inside the plastic bag, the containers were various kinds of soups. These were not some cheap take-outs, either. Soup was something that one could tell was quality just by stirring it up and smelling the steam. Even through her plugged nose she could smell the deliciousness contained within each. There was chicken noodle, naturally, and minestrone. Three of the others she actually didn’t recognize, but over the course of the next few days she had the pleasure of trying. They were all the best soups she’d ever had. She was also more confused than she’d ever been.

  What the hell? He spends all of that time treating her like dirt, and she throws his coffee and suddenly he’s buying soup for her? Maybe he was just afraid of a lawsuit or something. She wanted to think that he should be worried about something like that after the way he’d been treating her, but truth be told the soup was totally working. It was such a sweet thing to do. If it was sincere, it was the most perfect gesture. Tallah groaned to herself as her emotions warred with themselves.

  When she was finally feeling well enough to come in, she was anxious about what was going to happen. At this point, there was just no telling. Still, she dressed herself up as nicely as she always did, enjoyed a cup of coffee in the kitchen, and set out earlier than normal so that she could possibly catch up on anything that had gotten behind in her absence.

  When she got there, to her surprise, his office door was already open. Tallah set her things down on her desk and walked over to check. When she peeked her head inside, she heard the clacking of his keyboard as he typed away. Well, she knew better than to disturb him before his coffee, so she went back to her desk. Before she sat down, her intercom beeped.

  “Was that you I just saw?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. Her heart began beating in her chest. What did he want?

  “Would you come see me? If you’re not busy.”

  He was being so nice! It made her even more uncomfortable than when he yelled. At least then he was predictable. She had no idea what was in store for her now. “Sure.”

  Straightening out her outfit she walked into his office. Seeing her come in, he stood from his desk and walked around to the front of it. Out of morbid curiosity, she glanced over the carpet and saw there was no coffee stain. She wondered how long it took him to get that up. When she was near he leaned back against his desk.

  “Feeling better?”

  Tallah came to stand near him and folded her hands in front of her. “Yes,” she said simply.

  “Did, uh, you get my soup?”

  “Yes.”

  He crossed his arms, looking almost as though he was uncomfortable. Again her thoughts went to his fear of a lawsuit. The way he was behaving, she was losing all appreciation for the gesture and started seeing it more as a bribe.

  “And?” he asked.

  “I ate it.”

  Sighing sharply, he waved a hand. “You’re excused.”

  “What do you want from me?” she asked.

  The words were out of her mouth before she’d thought about the consequences. The second she realized what she was actually asking, she immediately regretted having said anything. She should’ve just walked away, damnit! But the question was out there, and she couldn’t risk losing whatever respect she’d earned in his eyes.

  He turned to her, and she could see her question churning in his mind. When he didn’t answer right away, it angered her. Somehow, a heat rose inside, boiling to overflowing.

  “What did I do to you to make you hate me so much?”

  “Hate—?” he started, but she cut him off.

  “Since day one you treated me like gum you’ve stepped on, some ragdoll you can just throw around to make yourself feel better.”

  “Tallah, I don’t—“

  She stepped forward and poked his chest. “Tell me what I did to earn such much hatred from you!” He worked his jaw for a minute, a blush rising to his cheeks. When she saw his eyes fall to her lips, a wheel she didn’t even realize was in play clicked in her mind.

  “I don’t hate you,” he said and grabbed her.

  His lips were on hers, hungrily pressing as though he could just absorb her. All of the heat she felt turned into red hot passion, and she grabbed him, pulling at his coat to get him closer somehow. Their tongues played against one another and she could taste the mint he’d had just minutes before.

  He pulled back from the kiss, his mouth suddenly at her ear and taking sensual bites down the side of her neck.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, her fingers moving up to play in his hair. Warmth spread through her belly, and the moistness between her legs quickly overruled all other thoughts. She never realized exactly how much she wanted this man, but now that this was happening, she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to.

  “I need you,” he said, his voice a gravely husk. She loved it. He pulled up her skirt and grabbed her underwear. Taking the binding in both hands, a single sharp tug ripped it and he pulled it off.

  She gasped at his passion, her arousal surging through her. When he lifted her by her ass she wrapped her legs around his middle. He pushed aside papers and all of the little annoying things on his desk to make way for her and set her down.

  They went back to kissing as she undid his belt and pushed his pants down, freeing his throbbing erection.

  “Oh wow,” she said, taking the length of him in her hand.

  “Good?” he asked, but she could see by the sly smile on his face he knew very well what a big man he was.

  Tallah licked her fingers, transferring some spit to her fingertips and rubbed it over the head of him. He stepped closer as she guided him int
o her. The pressure of his head pressing deep until slipping inside caught her breath. When he was sure of his placement and began pumping away, she reached up with both hands and held onto his suit jacket.

  The fine material under her fingers contrasted with the brutal, animalistic way he was taking her. Everything left on the desk rattled with every thrust. The door to the office was wide open. Anyone coming in could hear. She couldn’t help it. The feeling of him inside her, taking her, it was all too much to keep inside. As she moved her hips to meet each thrust, he was just as vocal as she. The thrill of what they were doing, how terrible it would be if they were caught heightened the sensation of everything. It was so wrong, but felt too good for her to care.

  The pressure inside promised the build of her orgasm. Everything grew more intense. “Oh God,” she moaned, “don’t stop. I’m almost there.”

  “Me too, I’m going to…” he said, his voice a strained groan.

  “Not yet,” she moaned, “don’t stop.”

  He grabbed her by her side, thrusting hard and deep inside of her. The power of each brought it closer just as much as the feeling of him nearly pulling out and reentering. This was a man that knew how to work himself. His body began to shake, his thrusts coming broken, hard, off-rhythm. She felt him swell inside of her. The thought of him exploding, feeling it happening, hearing him grunt with the power of his pleasure tipped the scales.