The Sheiks of the Arabian Coast Series: 5 Book Box Set

by Erin Snihur

  She laughed, to herself mostly, before sighing and gazing up at him. “Are you not a guest at the gala? Shouldn’t you be mingling?”

  Malik’s smile softened. “I needed fresh air from the masses.”

  Samara laughed and pointed behind her toward the ashtray. “I can see how well that went.”

  Grinning down at her, Malik asked, “Why are you not mingling? Surely your grandfather wants you to be a diligent hostess?”

  A snort escaped her and Malik watched in amusement as Samara covered her face in embarrassment. “I’ve had enough small talk. I was actually trying to take a break and hopefully sneak back up to my room before my grandfather begins his shocking and embarrassing stories of my childhood to the masses.”

  Malik laughed as well and asked, interested in this breathtaking woman, “What kinds of stories?”

  She attempted to protest, but Malik persisted. “Please tell me. I fear I will die of boredom if you do not.”

  Samara sighed, and her face cringed slightly. “Okay, but only because if you did die, my grandfather would surely die along with you at the thought.”

  Malik watched, holding back a groan as the charming woman bit her bottom lip in concentration before deciding with cringing glee on her story.

  “Now, you must promise to never tell anyone?” she said, her eyes staring intently up at him.

  “I promise,” Malik murmured and felt himself hold himself still as she moved closer and began her whispered tale.

  “I was only ten at the time and my sister was in her teens when this happened, so you must forgive my innocence. But one night she was sneaking out and was climbing down the trellis below to hitch a ride with one of her boyfriends to a party. Well, I thought I should go as well. So I grabbed my closest princess dress and followed after her. Only, this party wasn’t exactly kid friendly. I didn’t know any better, so I just walked in all dressed up like some princess to see all these teenagers drinking and doing all sorts of things. When my sister found out I had snuck along in her boyfriend’s car, she was furious. She attempted to sneak me back into the house, but I fell and broke my arm. So here I am dressed as a princess at the hospital and my grandfather arrives furious. When he asked what had happened, not wanting my sister to get in trouble I told him I’d wanted to go dancing like one of the princesses on TV. Suffice it to say, he didn’t believe my lie and we were both punished. My sister was so mortified though, she ensured she never snuck out in a way that I would see.”

  Malik laughed, mostly because the way she had told the story was so delightful. Her hands moved about as she spoke in the silliest gestures. Samara was so animated that when the story ended, Malik wanted to beg for more, just so he could watch her.

  “Do you always wear princess gowns to parties or was it just the one time?” Malik asked teasingly.

  Blushing red beneath her lightly bronzed skin, Samara gazed up at him nervously. “It was a phase I grew out of quickly. Fairy tales are just that. Tales.”

  Malik snorted. “I thought all women believed in fairy tales, falling in love and the dream of being a princess.”

  Samara shook her head. “Love is an illusion, isn’t it? I find myself believing that the more time I spend at these types of events. Everyone wants something from someone.”

  “And what is it you want, Samara?” Malik asked.

  Giving him a look sideways, Samara paused before sighing. “I want to go back to England and start my new job. I only came back for a few weeks after graduation to spend time with my grandfather. I fear if I stay any longer, I’ll be sucked into one of my grandfather’s matchmaking schemes.”

  Malik gazed down at the woman, who was still an enigma to him. “You speak from experience, angel?”

  She blushed again and swatted at his arm. “I am no angel, Malik.”

  He’d never been hit by a woman before and this only enforced Malik’s realization that she had no idea who he was. “You certainly seem to be one, in my eyes, Samara.”

  Shaking her head, Samara hugged herself and walked past him, along the railing until it ended against the building’s wall.

  “I knew you were a flirt the moment I saw you smile. I wanted to believe you would be different, but perhaps I was wrong,” Samara murmured.

  In shock by her words, Malik strides forward, his eyes glaring down at the confounded woman. “Are you saying I am only trying to get you into bed, angel, because I paid you one compliment?”

  Ignoring him, she stared out over the horizon. “Like the attendees of this gala, you only see the me that everyone wants to see, Malik.”

  Malik snorted. “I see a woman who is trapped within herself. A woman so restrained by someone else’s rules that she wishes she were a bird who could fly far away.”

  Seeming shocked by his words, Samara stares up at him. Her mouth slightly opened as Malik steps forward further, effectively blocking her up against the estate wall. With one hand pressed against the wall by her head, Malik has her trapped.

  Leaning down, Malik whispers something only she can and will want to hear, “Let me be the one to set you free, Samara.”

  Then, he kisses her.

  4

  How had her life come to this? At one moment, Samara was mingling with some of the richest and most conceited people in the world and the next she’s kissing a total stranger on her grandfather’s balcony. And what a kiss it was.

  Samara felt herself moaning without restraint into Malik’s lips as he deepened the kiss and pressed his hard, well-muscled body against her small one. The stone of her grandfather’s wall bit into her bare skin, but Samara didn’t care. It only made the kiss more urgent as her hands moved to his chest. She knew she should push him away, but just for tonight, she wanted to disregard the rules and do something completely reckless.

  As her hands slithered up his muscular chest, enjoying the hard ridges she found there, Malik’s arm moved from blocking her escape and came down to wrap around her waist. When his warm hand splayed across her bare back, Samara shuddered and bit Malik’s bottom lip softly.

  “Such a feisty kitten,” Malik muttered as he pulled away. “We can’t do this here though, angel.”

  Samara didn’t want him to stop and so, when he tried to pull away, she clutched tighter to the front of his shirt with a whisper, “There’s a private cabin on the beach not far from here. Make your excuses and meet me there.”

  Malik seemed stunned by her words. When Samara pressed herself and her lips back up against him, she felt her heart flutter in delight when his hands couldn’t resist wrapping around her once more. Moaning softly as he pulled his lips away from hers and brushed his nose against hers, Samara’s eyes fluttered open to stare into his blue depths.

  “The rules, angel…” Malik murmured.

  Shaking her head, Samara pressed her palms to his chest and pushed away, trailing her hands over him until they dropped to her sides. “One night, Malik, with no rules. I’ll be waiting.”

  As gracefully as she could muster, Samara passed him and walked across the balcony back to the gala, not looking back once. She knew he was staring after her. His eyes were practically burning her skin.

  Bracing herself and patting her hair to make sure not a wisp was out of place, Samara forced a calm smile on her face and rejoined the party. Nodding and grabbing a flute of champagne on her way as she found herself carefully bypassing her grandfather and other guests. As she made her way into the house by way of the servants’ quarters, Samara made sure no one had noticed before she raced down the steps that led to the wine cellar.

  As she opened the wine cellar’s back door entrance, Samara inhaled deeply as the smell of the salty sea air hit her. Walking along the path, Samara’s first glance at the small cabin sitting quietly on the white beach had her stopping in place. She hadn’t been on this beach in years. And tonight, she would make a memory to last her through the many years to come.

  Samara had to laugh as she stepped onto the deck of the cabin and lifted
the welcome mat. Underneath was a key. Shaking her head, Samara couldn’t help but chuckle at the silly place to hide a key.

  She’d only just entered the cabin and lit a few candles when she heard the creak of someone stepping up onto the deck. Feeling her stomach flutter further, Samara worried she would chicken out, but one look at the tall, handsome man standing in the doorway bellied her fears. Malik’s blue eyes reminded her of blue fire as they heatedly grazed over her form.

  “Hi,” Samara murmured awkwardly, unsure of what to say. What does one say in these situations? Her sister would surely know. Before she was married, Sheena was known as a bit of a party girl and involved herself with several different men every few weeks.

  “Hello, angel,” Malik murmured, his accent thicker than she recalled.

  As he stepped inside the cabin, his head almost reaching the top of the door, Malik closed the door behind him and locked it quietly. Barely scanning the area, he grinned.

  “Nice place, angel. Is this where you lure all of your hopeless prey to, for a night of unbridled passion?” Malik asked, his voice filled with teasing.

  Samara shrugged as she blushed and leaned up against the small loveseat in the tiny living room. “Only the ones who smoke.”

  Malik laughs at her joke and nods to the wine cooler attached to the tiny fridge, “Would you care for a drink, angel? You seem nervous.”

  “Shouldn’t I be?” Samara asked quietly before nodding. “A glass of wine would be lovely though.”

  As Malik selected the wine and two glasses, Samara lit the wood stove in the small living room. As the fire warmed the cabin, the low light cast a romantic glow about. Stepping over to her with a full glass extended, Malik clinked her glass with his.

  “You shouldn't be nervous, angel. I don’t bite, much,” Malik murmured with a wink.

  They both sat on the loveseat as the silence and noise of the crackling fire took hold. Samara could not only feel the heat of the fire, but also Malik’s body against hers. The couch wasn’t that big and with his arm now wrapping around her shoulders and his large hand palming her shoulder, Samara felt everything click into place.

  With a final sip of her wine, Samara set the glass down on the end table and turned to him, “I’ve never done this before.”

  Malik paused in his staring as they exchanged looks before Samara blushed and cast her gaze down at her fidgeting fingers.

  “Do you mean you’ve never thrown away the rules, angel?” Malik asked quietly.

  “Yes, well, I mean, with a complete stranger. I mean, I don’t even know your last name. This is all new territory to me,” Samara admitted and felt her face flame with embarrassment. “You must think me so naive.”

  Malik set his glass aside and took her face in his hands. Brushing his lips against hers, Samara heard the distinct rumble that swept through Malik's chest as he practically growled possessively.

  “Take off your dress, Samara. I need to see you,” Malik ordered.

  Samara melted into his embrace and felt her hands quickly go to the zipper at her back. As she grasped it tightly and slid it down, Samara felt the warm air send tingles along her skin. As his fingers moved up her back to pull the dress down, Samara felt him pause and she fluttered her eyes open to see him staring down at her, heat in his eyes and nostrils flared.

  “No bra, angel?” Malik growled in her ear.

  Shaking her head, Samara breathlessly whispered, “The dress is backless.”

  Groaning, as if in pain, Malik’s hands quickly moved to her shoulders and slid the sleeves down her arms. As the dress pushed past her breasts, Samara froze at the feeling of her breasts bouncing slightly in the warm air and her nipples hardening under Malik’s gaze.

  “Beautiful, Samara. You are perfect,” Malik murmured against her lips as his kiss consumed her and the dress fell from her body in an instant. Other than her thong, Samara was naked and in Malik’s lap, being held tightly like a precious doll.

  Malik’s hands ran over her soft skin and Samara moaned into his mouth as his hands moved from her sides to cup her breasts. His fingers fondled her nipples carefully and squeezed the plump breasts until Samara was panting against him.

  Pulling away from his lips, Samara leaned away and blushed as she stared at Malik, still clothed.

  “You are wearing too many clothes, Malik,” Samara amusedly murmured as she began to push his suit jacket aside and unbutton his dress shirt.

  “I agree, angel,” Malik murmured. “Where is the bedroom?”

  Samara giggled and pointed toward the only door in the cabin other then the bathroom. “The bed may be small, but it should fit you.”

  Malik grinned wolfishly and, in an instant, he had picked her up, wrapping her well toned legs around his waist. “I’m not worried about the bed fitting me, angel, only you.”

  As if to prove his point, Malik pressed Samara up against the wall and she felt it. His hard length was obvious against his black slacks and Samara gasped in delight as he rubbed it against her thong covered core.

  As Samara dug her fingers into Malik’s back through his dress shirt, she begged, “More, Malik. Please. I’m so wet.”

  “Soon, angel,” Malik groaned and, in an instant, they were in the bedroom, with Samara being dumped onto the bed like a great treasure. And Malik was the treasure hunter.

  Shedding his shirt and pants, Malik stood above her in his black boxers. Against his tanned skin, the impressive bulge in his underwear appeared dangerous to Samara. Leaning up on her elbows and straightening on the bed, Samara met Malik’s gaze as her hand reached out and grasped him through the boxers. Warmth and hardness met her hand. He was so large, Samara couldn’t help but gasping as, beneath her hand, she felt Malik’s engorged cock twitch.

  Malik groaned at the touch, his hands coming up to touch her cheek. “Be careful, angel. If you play too much with him, he won’t have the strength to enjoy you.”

  Grinning like a cat who caught the canary, Samara pulled at his boxers. “I’ve heard that can happen to men when they reach a certain age.”

  Malik’s blue eyes darkened as he met her challenging eyes and grasped her wrist, pulling her hand away from his cock.

  “Naughty minx. You will pay for that,” Malik whispered and Samara shrieked when he attacked.

  They were so consumed with one another, neither of them noticed the white haired figure as he stepped out of his hiding spot outside the cabin and walked back up the path toward the waiting party. The man’s plan was coming along perfectly.

  5

  Malik didn’t want to leave.

  How could this be possible? They had said one night. What was it about this woman that had him rethinking his whole life plan. As he pulled on his pants and shirt, Malik cast one last glance over the sleeping woman on the bed. He’d started to feel the longing for her as he had left the bed. She’d lay curled in his arms all night and he’d enjoyed it. She wasn’t needy like other women he’d shared his bed with, but Malik found he enjoyed the feeling of her body against his all night. As he had slid out of the bed, her face had formed a frown as her fingers searched for him. Without thinking, he’d grabbed the pillow he’d used and placed it in her arms. That had appeased her.

  As he left the cabin and nodded to a few of his security detail guards that had remained close by overnight, Malik’s chest began to ache. Was he coming down with something? Or was it the beautifully sexy woman he’d left behind at the cabin. All night they’d been encased in their own world of passion. Samara was not a virgin, but she was an innocent in many ways. Malik had enjoyed teaching her the ways of passion in bed.

  Clenching his fingers tightly, Malik barely registered where they were going as his guards escorted him off the beach as discreetly as possible. Hamda’s property was private, but who knew where the paparazzi were. He hoped they hadn’t seen him with Hamda’s granddaughter. He wondered what the older man would think of his granddaughter and her one night stand with Malik.

  An hour
later, Malik was safely ensconced in his hotel room, reading a popular newspaper he had flown in to wherever he was currently in residence so he could keep up to date on the world around Batra.

  His friend and all around advisor, Imad, delivered the paper and was droning on about certain aspects of it, Malik might find interesting.

  “The Sheik of Aman has sent an invitation for his wedding celebration, your Highness. I thought you might want to attend,” Imad tonelessly droned on and, before he could continue, Malik held up a hand for him to stop.

  “I will be attending, but let me think about it for a few days. I may not be going alone,” Malik mused humorlessly, that went over his friend’s head as Imad raised an eyebrow at Malik before snorting in derision. Sheik Khalid’s country, Aman, ran along Batra’s borders and they were allies in most things. Khalid and Malik had even grown up together in the same boarding school. He was shocked his old friend was marrying a Canadian of all things.

  Before Malik could ponder the subject further, a maid appeared and held out an envelope to Malik with a bow. As he took it and nodded his thanks, the maid departed. Waiting until they were alone, Malik opened the envelope.

  Snorting, Malik read the note from none other than, Hamda Ameen, Samara’s grandfather. The older man had promised Malik that they would discuss business the night before, but that obviously hadn’t happened.

  A snarky voice in his head hissed, instead you entered into business with his granddaughter.

  Now the older man wished for Malik to attend his home again to discuss business this morning. Shaking his head, Malik set the newspaper aside and looked up at Imad.

  “What do you know of Hamda Ameen, Imad?” Malik asked. He’d read the report on Hamda and his business dealings, but Malik wished to know more.

  Imad spoke, his tone somber, as if reciting his words from a script, “The man is well known in the city of Oman. He travels all over the world for business in his oil companies. Companies, I believe, your Majesty is looking into purchasing for the good of Batra. Mr. Ameen is a widower, he only had one daughter who married far beneath her station. It was believed Mr. Ameen cut his daughter off for her marital choices, but after many years, his daughter and her husband passed away tragically in a car accident. Mr. Ameen raised his two granddaughters. One is married to a wealthy businessman in England who is believed to have ties to the Queen of England. This partnership was able to quell the scandals that surround her. If I may, your Highness, she was known as the “Scandal Queen” in upper society.”