Page 55 of Her Irresistible Sheik
She smiled smugly.“If we’re going to continue this…whatever this is… then Iamgoing to learn how to bake.I want to make scones so perfect, they’ll knock Heather off her culinary pedestal.”
“Who the hell is Heather?”
“She’s your head chef, Mikail,” Nahla huffed, exasperated.
“Ah,” he said, nodding thoughtfully.“She’s good.I like her cooking.”
“She’s afreaking artist, Mikail.”
He met her eyes with a mischievous glint.“Since you’re in love with me, how about you agree to marry me?”
Nahla blinked.That wasnotwhat she’d expected.
Her heart stopped.Then sped up again.“Do you really want to marry me?”
“Hell yes,” he growled.And in one smooth motion, he lifted her off the desk and settled her onto his lap, his hands sliding along her thighs.
“But you were so grouchy when I first showed up at your palace!”she protested, trying and failing to glare at him.“Marriage is a whole lot more invasive than just showing up with a suitcase!”
“I was grouchy because I’d met you a year earlier and couldn’t get you out of my head,” he muttered, sliding his hands under her shirt again.“And then you were in my home, looking beautiful and luscious andso damn untouchable.It drove me mad.”
“You didn’t act like I was untouchable when we first met,” she pointed out.“You acted like I was an annoying gnat.”
“Andyoulooked at me like I was a bug you wanted to stomp under your pretty blue heel.”
Her brows shot up.“I was wearing blue shoes?”
He nodded solemnly.“Blue with a silver sparkle.And a blue dress that came down to here—” he touched the spot between her breasts “—and your hair was up with sparkly things in your ears.”
“Sapphires,” she corrected primly.“Not sparklythings, Mikail.Precious gems.”
“I like your hair like this better,” he murmured, running his fingers through the loose waves.“And, since we’re being honest, I like you best completely naked.”
She laughed.A rich, unguarded laugh.But slowly, the amusement faded.Her fingers brushed the side of his jaw, suddenly serious.
“How do you feel about me when I’m fully clothed?”she asked quietly, even though part of her didn’t want to know.But she had to.
Mikail’s expression turned fierce.
“I love your art,” he said.“I love the passion you pour into everything you do—even when your efforts get you nearly assassinated by accident.I love the way you touch me, talk to me, challenge me.”
He took her hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
“And I love you, Nahla.Even if your politics are completely wrong.”
She held her breath until that last part, then rolled her eyes.“I’ll forgive you for the politics jabonlybecause you said you love me.”
“So,” he grumbled, sliding his hand up to cup her breast, “when are you going to marry me?”
Nahla gasped as his thumb swept over her already-erect nipple, the contact sending a jolt through her entire body.She ground against his very impressive erection, her voice a breathy whisper.“I don’t know.Maybe when you ask menicely, with pretty flowers and a—”
She yelped when he stood up suddenly, lifting her effortlessly with his hands under her butt.
“What are you doing?”she laughed.
“You’re going to agree to marry me, woman,” he growled, striding down the hallway toward the bedroom like a man with a mission.
He kicked the bedroom door shut behind them and started kissing her—deep, demanding, hungry—his direction clear but his mouth far too distracting.When they reached the bed, he paused just long enough to lower her feet to the floor.
