Hidden in the Sheikh's Harem: Christmas at the Castello - Page 50

‘Come here. I want to hold you.’

She unfolded shaky legs out from under her and went to him. She let him pull her down onto his lap and opened for him when he kissed her.

‘You know, ever since you told me you were responsible for that publication five years ago I’ve been thinking about something.’

‘What?’

‘I want to suggest to Nadir that you become the ambassador for change in the outer regions.’

‘What?’ she parroted, unable to take in what he’d just offered.

‘You have a sharp mind, habiba. It would be remiss of me not to utilise that. And changing years of cultural norms is not going to be easy. People will resist. They need to feel there is someone they can trust, especially since I am certain Nadir and I will be viewed sceptically at first.’

Farah chewed on the inside of her lip, her heart thumping hard at the thought. What he said made sense, and she would love it, but... ‘You would let your wife work?’

‘As long as it doesn’t interfere with her home duties, of course.’

She felt her tentative bubble of hope burst. Here it comes, she thought, the proviso. She raised her chin. ‘Such as?’

‘Such as keeping our apartment spic and span, making sure my clothing is cleaned and ironed, servicing me whenever and wherever I— Oof!’

Farah punched him lightly on the shoulder, realising he was teasing her, and completely thrown by the unexpected playfulness. ‘You’re joking.’

He laughed deeply. ‘For a non-violent person, you pack quite a punch.’

‘I am usually non-violent,’ she cried. ‘I don’t know what gets into me around you.’

The look he gave her could have heated the polar ice caps. ‘I can tell you what gets into you.’ His hands grew possessive, demanding. ‘Me. And I have to tell you that every time you get feisty it makes me hot.’

Farah swallowed, instant arousal turning her limbs to jelly. ‘Every time?’

As if knowing just how ready she was for him, he drew in a sharp breath and rose, with her still in his arms as if she were no heavier than one of the cushions they’d been seated on.

‘Every time.’ He strode inside and dumped her on the sofa, his hands raising her T-shirt and sliding along the sensitive skin of her belly. ‘But I was serious about one of those duties.’ He fingered his belt buckle. ‘Want me to demonstrate?’

Feeling herself melting, and unable to contain it, she reached up and pulled him down over her. ‘Maybe a little more instruction might be worthwhile.’

CHAPTER TWELVE

IT WAS SOME sort of loud banging that roused Zach from a sweet dream and a deep sleep. Thinking it was an alarm, he rolled over and thumped the digital clock on the bedside table. Farah stirred beside him and he automatically tightened his arm around her shoulders.

She settled deeper into the crook of his arm and he closed his eyes.

Before arriving in Ibiza, while Farah had slept on the plane, Zach had made some plans about what they would do after they had settled in. First they would explore the beaches around Talamanca Bay, then they’d fly to a little out-of-the-way Spanish restaurant he knew in Dalt Vila, maybe sail around the beautiful island of Es Vedra and watch the sunset from the popular spot nearby.

What they ended up doing was never leaving the apartment—three days in and out of bed eating takeout that was brought by his security detail and introducing Farah to trashy TV—to which his new wife was now addicted. His mouth quirked at her penchant for Doris Day movies and he made a mental note to check the guide before channel-surfing with her again. He’d tried to explain that real men didn’t watch romantic movies but she’d nestled more comfortably against him and he’d shut up. And enjoyed himself.

He’d also enjoyed breakfast. Since learning what she preferred, he’d had the food stockpiled and he liked to watch her potter around, fixing share plates for them both while he brewed the coffee. Then he’d pop the toast in the toaster and over their meal he’d try to convince her to give Vegemite a go. So far she’d steadfastly refused but he’d seen the look of horror cross her face when she’d dipped her little finger in the jar to test it. He’d nearly laughed out loud but instead had kissed her into a stupor before bending her over the table and lifting her—his—T-shirt.

Damn, but he loved her in his T-shirts, with all that dark hair rippling down her back, her feet bare. All in all he’d say she fascinated him and in a surprisingly short space of time, his feelings for his wife had deepened to the point that he now struggled to label them. In fact if he didn’t know better he’d think— The loud thumping started up again, breaking his train of thought.

Tags: Michelle Conder Billionaire Romance
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