Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 46344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 232(@200wpm)___ 185(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Tomorrow, Kyria thought sleepily. Tomorrow was soon enough for them to talk, and she would tell him that they should take things slowly.
Tomorrow.
But when tomorrow came, the exact opposite happened.
Kyria stirred into consciousness as the steady sound of knocking slowly penetrated her mind. She stretched and twisted in her bed, thinking that it felt a lot bigger—-
Oh!
She shot up to a sitting position, and her worst fears were confirmed. She was still in the sheikh’s bedroom, and someone was knocking on the door—-
“Good. You’re awake.” Malik came out of the en-suite shower, a white towel wrapped low on his hips, droplets of water still dripping from his hair and down to his glistening body.
Her throat dried at the sight, and the sheikh stopped walking when he saw Kyria staring.
Beautiful.
It was the only word Kyria could think of. Every inch of Malik Al-Atassi was beautiful.
The gleaming ebony shade of his hair, the exotic darkness of his eyes, the chiseled perfection of his face-—
Beautiful.
All the way down to the imposing breadth of his shoulders, the muscular expanse of his chest, and his ripped abs—-
Beautiful.
And then there was that prominent and distinctly growing bulge under his towel—-
Oh!
The sight of his arousal shocked her back into reality, and her gaze flew up to him. “Malik.” Her tone was faint. “Your—-” She couldn’t make herself say the words and simply waved in the area of his arousal.
But the sheikh only smirked when he saw what she was gesturing at. “My what?”
“Malik, be serious—-” Another polite rap on the door interrupted her, and she turned white at the sound. “There’s someone at the door.”
“As there should be,” he said complacently. “I ordered breakfast for the two of us.”
“What?” Kyria was aghast.
He raised a brow. “Don’t you want to have breakfast with me?”
“Of course I do, but—-” She threw him a helpless look. “Should I hide then?”
“Why should you?” The sheikh then crossed the remaining length of the room, and Kyria found herself holding her breath. Her senses swam, further and further away from her, that by the time he reached her, she was lost.
Nothing else mattered except...him.
Her sheikh.
Malik.
He sat on the edge, and the bed dipped under his weight. Her body swayed at the movement of the bed, and she suddenly felt herself pressed against his hot, wet skin.
Kyria bit back a cry.
His fingers cupped her chin. “What do you want me to do, Ky?” His hand moved, fingers threading through the sleep-tousled locks of her hair. “Do I hide you...or do I let the world know you’re mine?”
Ooooh.
“I only want to take it slow,” she confessed haltingly, “for your sake.”
The sheikh’s lips curved in a smile. “Is that so?”
She nodded.
“And if I say I don’t want to take it slow at all because it’s all I’ve been doing for the past four years?”
A gasp escaped her.
“What then?” The sheikh’s voice became taut. “Do we still take it slow?” His fingers moved down to curve around her nape. “You should know by now, Ky.” And his head started inching closer, and her heart started thudding harder against her chest.
“I will only always do what you want.”
She gulped. Oh no, oh dear heavens, no...
“So tell me...”
His eyes captured hers, and the look in the sheikh’s eyes told her exactly what he wanted.
Kiss her. Touch her. Fuck her.
“What do you want?”
Him, she thought dizzily. She wanted him.
But because that look in his eyes was too much, and all of this was still new—-
KICK.
The sheikh grunted as he fell to the carpet, completely taken by surprise by Kyria’s reaction.
A horrified moan escaped her.
She had just kicked the sheikh out of his own bed.
To raise a hand against any member of the royal family was punishable by death, but more than that, it was the most shameful of all offenses for any person who considered himself loyal to the kingdom.
Kyria jumped off the bed and sank to her knees, head down. “I’m so sorry!” This was the end. She just knew it. She had hung up on him, slammed the door on him, slapped him, and now she had actually kicked him!
And yet...
Her head lifted at the strange, puzzling sound of the sheikh’s laughter, and Kyria was even more bemused when she saw Malik rising to his feet, a grin on his handsome face. Had she...kicked him so hard he had lost his mind?
He took her hand. “Up you go, milady...”
Kyria allowed the sheikh to pull her up to her feet. “You’re n-not mad?”
He shook his head. “Never with you.” His tone was gentle. “Remember?”
Her eyes teared. “Even though I kicked you?”
“Even then.”
“And I slapped you and slammed the door on your face—-”
Wincing, he cut her off hastily, saying, “No matter what you do.” And while he did mean that, Malik would rather not have Kyria list her transgressions. If she did, it only made things seem more impossible between them, and he would rather not think about that.