Page 8 of Her Arabian King

“I do not!” Well, okay, she did, but a gentleman would never have pointed that out.

The sheikh gestured towards the seating area. “If you would make yourself comfortable?”

“Is that a command as well?”

“If that’s what turns you on.”

Harper’s jaw dropped. “Sheikh!” Where. The. Hell. Did. That. Come. From?

The sheikh laughed. “Aistajama.” Be at ease. “It is merely a joke.”

She gave him a wooden smile. “Funny.” Not. She hurried away from him and practically collapsed on the couch, red-faced and trembling. Had he really said that? Had he?

If that’s what turns you on...

Her cheeks burned hotter. The sheikh had never spoken to her like that before. Never! So why would he say such a thing now?

Khalil took the seat opposite Harper. Her face was still as expressive as ever, and he was pleased with this. He had always liked Harper, had always enjoyed the way she spoke her mind and was never on her guard with him. But he had never let himself think of her as a woman. His mind had always shied away from the possibility, knowing that it could ruin the one platonic friendship he enjoyed with the opposite sex.

But it was different now.

The sheikh’s gaze ran over her slowly and thoroughly. Her hair was long, just like how he liked it, and he also knew from experience that it was soft to touch. He imagined fisting her hair as they fucked—-

And his pulse leapt.

Her face was lovely, attractive, her wide mouth just the way he liked it, because it was the kind of mouth that gave the best blowjobs.

As for her body—-

He had always known she had plump breasts, far bigger than most women, but it was only now that the sheikh allowed himself to think of how it would feel, cupping those sweet, succulent breasts—-

His blood heated, and if he had any lingering doubts about their sexual compatibility, they were all obliterated by his body’s swift reaction.

He wanted her, Khalil realized with surprise. Every time she flew over for Usbue Min Al-Abtal, his cousins would often take sly note of his interest in her, even back when he had been unofficially engaged to Sapphire March. But he had always dismissed their words as mere ribbing, and he had never allowed himself to think of Harper as something more than a qalifa.

But that would change now.

His gaze narrowed on her, this woman whom his body craved. This woman, who was still glaring at him like he was a murderer—-

Khalil raised a brow, drawling, “May I ask why are you looking at me so?”

Because if I don’t glare at you, I might stare at you with ridiculous longing, Harper thought, and she would rather kill herself than let that happen. But to answer the sheikh, she simply shrugged, knowing it was better to answer with silence than be caught lying.

“You always seem to be angry with me,” the sheikh mused.

She couldn’t help gaping. “And that’s seriously puzzling to you?”

“It is.”

“You just had me escorted out of the luncheon to take me into custody!”

The sheikh dismissed this with a wave of his hand, saying, “I sent the guards back to let the guests know it was a prank.”

“That’s not the point!”

The sheikh feigned astonishment. “It’s not?”

“You’ve been bullying me for years,” she growled, “and you don’t think that I should be angry about it?”

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