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)
Right now, and after all those goddamn years of holding himself back—-
Kyria impulsively threw herself at him. “Oh, Malik.” And again, her voice was muffled with her face pressed to his shoulder. She was never the impulsively affectionate type with anyone, and even with Altair and Vanna, the smallest part of her had always held herself back, in the event that either of them would realize they didn’t actually love her—-
But Malik was different.
With Malik, she had always been sure.
He would always love her, would never leave her.
She had known that even as a child, and now it made Kyria wonder...if even then she had known—-
“Malik.”
His whispered name, underlined by worry and uncertainty, made the sheikh pull back so he could look into her eyes.
“If I tell you,” she said unevenly, “that I might have unconsciously known, even as a child, you could never be just a brother to me...” She swallowed hard. “Would you think I’m crazy?”
He slowly shook his head.
“Why?”
“Because it was the same for me,” he said simply.
Oh. Kyria laid her face against his chest again and hugged him tightly. “I’m happy. Really happy, but is it bad that a part of me feels like it’s waiting for me to wake up and realize it’s all a dream?”
“It’s not bad. Rather, it’s entirely natural.”
“Is it?” She began rubbing her face unconsciously against his chest like a kitten.
“It is.” He wondered tautly if she realized that other parts of her anatomy were starting to rub against his body as well.
“I just wish...” Her body stilled, and the sheikh was torn between relief and disappointment when all of her rubbing parts came to a stop as well.
She looked up at him, her eyes innocently questioning. “Do you think there’s something that I could do to make this feel...”
“More real?”
Kyria nodded.
His lips slowly curved.
Uh oh.
“As a matter of fact, anisdi—-”
That smile of his was positively devilish, and she gulped. “Umm—-”
“I know exactly what we can do.”
Alarm bells started to ring inside of her head. “I don’t think—-”
The sheikh placed a finger on her lips.
Oh!
“Trust me, shaqifa.” The last word meant ‘little sister.’ A word that Altair and even the other sheikhs used when talking to her, she thought dazedly, but never him.
And now she knew why.
With the others, the word sounded exactly the way it was meant to. But when it was Malik calling Kyria his ‘little sister,’ it sounded like the dirtiest word in the planet—-
Oh, how she liked it that way.
And so did he.
This was going to be bad, Kyria thought, gulping. Trepidation, fear, and a forbidden kind of thrill started unfurling inside of her stomach.
Really, really bad—-
And so it was.
Breakfast was served at the balcony of the sheikh’s suite, with Malik already seated at the head of the table when she stepped out to join him. Two maids in uniform were also present, with one setting the table while another was busy preparing their drinks. Unlike Khalil, who preferred to travel with a minimum-sized staff, Malik preferred to surround himself with locals, and so upon seeing her, the maids – who knew Kyria back from when she was a child – smiled cheerfully and greeted her with a sense of familiarity.
“Sabah alkhayr, anisdi.” Good morning, milady.
The sheikh glanced up at their words, and Kyria tried not to act self-conscious as she felt his gaze on him. “Sabah alkhayr, Dima, Fatima.” She managed a smile for the two as she made her way to the table. In the corner of her eye, she noticed the sheikh nodding at the maids in dismissal, and the two quickly bowed before hurrying out of the balcony.
Pausing in front of the chair adjacent to his, Kyria took a deep breath.
Act normal, Kyria Markides.
She slowly raised her gaze, and at the exact same moment his fingers wrapped around her wrist.
Ah!
One tug, and she fell into his lap.
Her head jerked up, and his beautiful face filled Kyria’s vision.
Oh!
It was still too much, and her hand went flying up before she could stop himself. Thankfully, it was also exactly what the sheikh predicted, and so even as his broad shoulders rocked with silent mirth, he was able to readily capture her other wrist before it could connect with the side of his face.
“You are quite the sadist, Ky,” the sheikh drawled.
Kyria’s face turned red.
“And surprisingly, it’s also quite the turn-on—-”
Her face turned even redder. “Malik!” She squirmed on his lap, trying to get away, but this only made the sheikh grin.
“Relax,” he crooned.
“L-like I can!” She struggled harder to get out of his hold, but his fingers around her wrists were like manacles.
“I’m only doing this so that you’d get used to me.” The sheikh spoke like he was the voice of reason; the gleam in his eyes, however, was anything but. It was the very definition of devilry, and oh—-