Harper had been fifteen when she first met the sheikh. He had been twenty-four then, was still known as Jeremy, the bastard prince – and “more or less” engaged to Sapphire March, the only daughter of Senator Samuel March. It was in one of the dinner parties hosted by the palace for her father, the kingdom’s newly minted hero, when Jeremy had caught sight of her seated quietly in the corner, engrossed in learning about the rich history of the kingdom of Ramil. It was pretty much like 1001 Arabian Nights, only it was real, which made the accounts all the more fascinating.

“Marhava, qalifa.”

The words had her automatically looking up, and she had found herself gaping. Black hair, dark eyes, olive skin, dressed in the traditional costume of his kingdom: a white thobe made of the highest quality of cotton, with a semi-loose fit that nonetheless emphasized the breadth of his shoulders and the impressive length of his form.

An Arabian prince come to life, she had thought foolishly back then, and if he had also chosen to don the headdress that came with it, she would have probably been tempted to rub her eyes and blink, wondering if the prince from the history book she was reading had somehow managed to leap off the pages.

But then his words sank in and she scowled up at the stranger, saying frostily, “I’m not a little girl.” She really, really hated how petite she was, more so when the guy she had been crushing on in high school had once told Harper she looked like she was still in middle school.

“Sorry, my bad.”

The colloquial words, as well as the way it was delivered so easily, had her blinking. Who was this guy? He looked local, but he sounded as American as her.

“I’m Jeremy, by the way.” And with that, Harper’s question had been answered, and the guy’s lips twisted when her eyes widened in recognition. “I’m guessing you know who I am?”

“Prince Khalid’s son.”

“You mean, his illegitimate son.”

“A son is a son is a son.”

He blinked. “Is that…supposed to make sense?”

“Yup.” Harper was equally puzzled. “Why wouldn’t it?”

After a moment, the guy simply smiled. “You’re right. A son is a son is a son.”

She looked at him suspiciously, asking, “Why do I get the feeling you’re just humoring me?”

“That would be an ungentlemanly thing to do, don’t you think?”

Harper opened her mouth to tell him he didn’t seem like much of a gentleman to her, but he beat her to speaking, murmuring, “You still haven’t told me your name.” And the way his eyes gleamed told her it was deliberate. He had known exactly what he hadn’t let her say.

She glared at him, but the guy’s lips only curved in a wider smile.

More dazzling, too, Harper thought, uneasily.

“Your name,” he prodded gently.

“Harper,” she answered reluctantly after a beat.

“Harper.” He spoke as if tasting her name on his tongue, and she scowled, just so she wouldn’t accidentally blush. Why did hearing this guy saying her name make it feel like he was tasting…her?

The guy’s gaze moved towards the book she was holding. “What are you reading?”

“History.”

“How surprising.”

“Why?” Harper felt defensive.

“Because most girls your age would probably be into Teen Vogue, I suppose.”

“Well, I’m not like most girls.”

“I’m beginning to realize that.”

She smiled stiffly then pointedly returned her attention to her history book, hoping that he would leave her alone after that.

Unfortunately, it was only the beginning. She knew that most people would see what happened afterwards was Jeremy Raybourne taking her under his wings, but that was not the case at all. Every time they bumped into each other, he would make it a point to greet her warmly, like they were long-lost friends. And when the public began to take notice, and a bold member of the press had dared to ask about their relationship, Jeremy had said smoothly, I see her as a sister, as Harper is an honorary daughter of our kingdom, by virtue of her father’s heroics and her own allegiance to our history.

And life changed forever after that, Harper thought grumpily as she angrily jabbed another piece of lamb on her plate before popping it into her mouth. Men hadn’t stopped flocking to her side since then, all of them hoping to gain the future king’s favor by dating his so-called honorary sister. And since turning them down continued to be a daily struggle even now, Harper was gloomily aware that her chances of finding her first boyfriend were dwindling close to zero.

And it was the damn sheikh’s fault, no one else’s.

Even now, the way the sheikh had so easily turned her life upside down for his amusement annoyed Harper to no end, and she found herself spearing the cuts of meat more quickly than usual. Before she knew it, she had finished the entire plate, and the other women on her table were whispering and making a not-so-subtle fuss about how quickly she was done eating.

Yeah, well, sorry for that, Harper apologized sarcastically in her mind, but it’s what you get when you have Howard Griffiths for a dad. Instead of letting her play with dolls, she and Howard had played cops and robbers, and later on instead of letting her have ballet lessons, he had taught her Army Survival 101, and one of the first lessons was to eat well and eat quickly – because one never knew when the next battle would start and how long it would last.

A server appeared by her side to whisk the dinner plate away while another asked if she would like to have coffee.

She shook her head. “No, thanks.” An unusually cool breeze played with her hair as she spoke, and Harper absently pushed the loose strands away. For today’s lunch, an outdoor barbecue party had been set up outside the palace, affording the guests a sweeping view of Ramil’s breathtaking desertscape. Great setting, really, but it did cause her hair to nearly poke her eye once too often. If tomorrow’s luncheon was still al fresco, she’d just cut a strip out of Howard’s tie and use it as a hair ribbon---

A shadow fell over her, and when Harper caught a glimpse of a man in a dark suit in the corner of her eye, she didn’t bother looking up, hoping that whoever it was would take the hint. Did she really have to send a damn memo just to have everyone understand that she and the sheikh were not close and so there was no point trying to get on her good side? It was such a bother, and it was the damn sheikh’s---

“Ms. Griffiths? We have been instructed by the Emir Sheikh to take you into custody.”

“Thanks, but no---” Wait a minute, had she heard him right? Harper jumped to her feet, gaping. “Excuse me?”

The three men in front of her remained expressionless.

Harper’s teeth started to gnash. The damn sheikh was at it again.

* * *

Khalil couldn’t help grinning as Harper stalked into his office and angrily slammed the doors behind her. “You damn bully!” Her green eyes shot sparks at him while a lovely flush stained her cheeks. She was panting, too, like she had run all the way here just so she could start yelling at him as soon as possible.

And knowing Harper as he did, the sheikh was certain this was the case.

Rising to his feet, he said smoothly, “Thank you for coming, Harper.”

“Like you gave me a choice! You do realize that your goons only lacked a pair of handcuffs and everyone would think you had me arrested, don’t you?”

“Is that so?”

“Ha! Don’t you dare pretend that wasn’t exactly what you planned to happen! Everyone was looking at me like I had stolen the silver or something!”

“Only an idiot would think you’d commit such a crime.”

“That’s true,” Harper snapped. “Because if I had to commit a crime, it would be to choke the life out of you!” She threw her hands up in a fit of frustration. “Why do you get such a kick out of bullying me?”

“I’m not quite sure myself,” the sheikh answered truthfully. “All I know is that I like seeing you angry. Watching your face then is like reading a book. It’s quite expressive, and highly amusing---” He had to break off after that, with Harper letting out an ear-splitting screech of anger.

“I am not here to be your amusement!”

And yet you have always been that to me, the sheikh thought.

And the realization almost gave him pause.

Harper Griffiths had been quite a refreshing source of entertainment to him for the past eight years, and she had held his attention without trying to, and far longer than any woman had ever done. The fact that it was so bothered the sheikh for some reason, and it almost made him think twice about what he was about to propose. But then he remembered that time was not in his favor, and the sheikh’s momentary hesitation dissolved in a flash.

He started walking towards her again, this time crossing the room with purposeful strides. Meanwhile, Harper was still ranting, enumerating his bullying pranks over the years and riling herself up in the process.

Don’t think I’ve forgotten that time when you said you only wanted to dance with me because you didn’t want just any guy to get his hands on your honorary little sister? Do you know how many hate letters were sent to my house after that? Thousands! And some of them told me to go fucking kill myself!

“Stop toying with me!” The shrillness of her voice made Harper mentally cringe, but she could no longer help it. Whirling around, she drew a deep breath, intending to tell the sheikh once and for all that he was never to mess with her life again---

Whoa!

Harper jumped back, startled by his sudden proximity. “D-don’t sneak up on me like that!” And don’t look so handsome when you’re near me. The sheikh was now dressed in casual Western clothing, dispensing with the robe in favor of a gray V-necked shirt and a loose pair of trousers. It made him look very different---

But it also still made him look sexy like usual, enough to make her heart sway like crazy.

Damn sheikh.

“I wasn’t sneaking up on you,” the sheikh said in his usual soft tone. “I just don’t make a habit of marching noisily like you do.”

“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?”

“Have I?” The sheikh’s tone was mild, but there was that gleam in his eyes, and it was so much more irritating than usual, making her teeth gnash hard.

“Last year I told you very specifically not to add my name to the VIP table, and what did you do? Seat me right next to you!”

Her shrill voice should have irritated him, but instead it only made Khalil deeply amused. “Being seated next to the king is usually considered an honor,” he drawled.

“It is when you want to be seated,” she growled, “which I didn’t.”

“You are unusually attached to the past, qalifa. It is quite unhealthy---”

“Unhealthy, my ass! You don’t know how awful my life gets every time you draw attention to me. You just don’t. And you do it every year. Every year!”

She was back to screaming at him again, Khalil thought. The soldiers stationed outside his study must be privately aghast and confused, wondering why he was letting a commoner – and a foreign one at that – treat him so, but on the contrary, the sheikh was more than pleased. He had no desire to have a lapdog for a queen. He wanted a woman, a real woman –

And Harper was exactly that.

In front of him, his ferocious saghira was still busy listing his supposedly numerous sins, her beautiful chest heaving all the while. He stared at it with open admiration, with the rapid rise and fall of her breasts making him imagine how it would feel to see them naked and bouncing.

His phallus hardened at the thought, and for a moment the sheikh was disturbed. He could not remember desiring a woman this much – but was that truly a good thing? Would it do to have a consort that captivated him so?

Harper’s voice abruptly died down when she suddenly noticed where the sheikh was looking – and it was not something he should be staring at. Damn sheikh. “Stop that,” she muttered. But still his gaze remained on her breasts, and she struggled but failed to keep her body from reacting. What the hell was wrong with him? He had never spoken to her with any kind of sexual innuendo, but that happened. And he had never, ever looked at her with lust before---

But no matter how hard she thought, there seemed no word more suitable in describing the glitter in his eyes.

And he was still staring.

Heat suffused her cheeks as she could feel her breasts swell, and when he continued to gaze at her, her nipples started to harden---

Harper jumped to her feet, appalled and ashamed.

This had never happened to her either!

Never!

“I’m done with this,” she muttered. Sheikh or no sheikh, she would not let this man stare at her body like it was his property, and make her feel so…odd.

As she whirled around and started to walk away, she heard the sheikh say, “Sit.”

Harper stiffened.

“You heard me, anisdi.”

The sheikh’s tone was too soft, softer than she had ever heard him speak – and she knew it was a quiet warning. If she went against his wishes, she would be in for it.

So be it, Harper thought. I’m his guest, not his subject.

Ignoring his command, Harper took a step towards the door –

And it was all she managed to do.

A moment later, she could only cry out as hands gripped her waist. In another moment, he had hauled her close, and she tumbled down to his lap, her shocked gaze flying to his.

He gazed down at her unsmilingly. “If I order you to do something, I expect you to follow it.”

She could only stare at him in sheer incredulity. Was he serious? A moment later, the answer came to her. Yes, the damn sheikh was serious – because he was insane. And so she immediately, wordlessly started to struggle, thrashing wildly to get off him, but the sheikh was too strong, his force easily overpowering her. Instead of leaving his lap, she was forced to mold to his will, and she found herself straddling him on the couch, his hands gripping her hips, gentle but inflexible, locking her into place.

She felt something hard rise against her crotch.

Something huge, something long and thick---

Harper was stunned. Was that his erection?

“Nem.” Yes. And the sheikh spoke that one word in a voice made unearthly with such raw desire---

Oh my God. Her body shuddered even as panic struck her. What was happening? Why was this happening? And why was she not running away? Her pride no longer mattering a whit to her, she said shakily, “Please let me go.” Please. Before I do something crazy, like beg you to fuck---

She tried to shake the thought away but it was too late, and she bit her lip hard, swallowing back a moan as erotic images invaded her mind.

No. No. No.

She didn’t want to think about the sheikh fucking her.

Couldn’t.

Mustn’t!

But then her eyes clashed with his once more, and she saw in his dark burning gaze that he already knew. And when his nostrils flared, she was certain of it---

He knew. Somehow, he knew. He knew she was thinking about him fucking her.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked tremulously.

He shook his head. “Wrong question, qalifa.” His voice was hard, but still laced with white-hot lust, and the sound made her stomach cramp.

Oh God, it made her feel so strange.

“What you should be asking,” the sheikh purred, “is why it took me so long to do this.”

And then he kissed her.

For one second, Harper was merely stiff and unresponsive in her shock, but as the sheikh’s lips continued to move over hers coaxingly, heat started to slither into her system, loosening her limbs and making her lips slowly move on its own accord.

Khalil struggled to keep his passion in check as he sucked on Harper’s lower lip. His qalifa kissed like an unqualified innocent, seemingly untutored in any way in the art of seduction. Could it be that he was her first kiss? He would not want her less if it wasn’t, but if he was---

His blood surged more hotly for her, his lust spiraling out of the control, and as he wrapped an arm around her waist to haul her closer to his body, his other hand went up, and she let out the sexiest little whimper as he gripped her hair.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded.

And her sweet rosy lips parted.

He kissed her deeper, sucking on her tongue hungrily, and she gasped and whimpered, her body pressing harder against his chest. Her breasts started to rub against him, inciting his passion, and he kissed her harder. Her nipples pebbled, and he could no longer help himself, his hand moving from her waist to cup her breast.

She stiffened against him, but he continued to fondle and squeeze the sweet, full globe of flesh until her body sagged and a moan slipped past her lips. The sound was too enticing, spurring him to kiss her with greater hunger, his tongue mating aggressively with hers.

“Suck my tongue, qalifa,” he ordered hoarsely.

He felt her hesitate, clearly out of shyness, and ah, how it made him want to devour her. A moment later, she was doing as he asked, and it was heaven and hell. She was naturally good at it, but because she was so good, it made him want to forget everything and simply fuck her then and there.

His hand fisted her hair as she sucked at his tongue eagerly, and he toyed with her nipple, pinching and plucking it, while he began to rub his bulging erection against her pussy.

Just one more second---

One more second to enjoy this incredible pleasure---

And then he forced himself to pull away, lifting his head, his breathing harsh as he looked down at her. Her green eyes were dazed, and she was panting, and ah, the look and sound of her made his body clench tightly with need.

“You’re mine now.”

The sheikh’s harshly spoken words left Harper feeling even more befuddled. “I d-don’t understand,” she stammered. What did he mean? Was that sheikh speak for asking her out on a date?

“You. Are. Mine.” The sheikh punctuated the words with a short hard kiss that nevertheless left her toes curling and her head reeling. When he pulled away, her body silently protested, her lips trembling in aching need for more of his kisses. His hands slowly moved down the curves of her body, his touch possessive, and she shuddered and bit back a whimper.

His eyes darkened. “Don’t control it,” he rasped. “I want to hear your desire for me.” His hands went back to her breasts, squeezing them hard, and even as her cheeks turned pink at what she was about to do, she still let it out, a tiny whimper of desire---

“Nem.” Yes. His eyes gleamed like a satisfied master, and even though she knew she should hate it – she didn’t.

And then he was kissing her again, at the same time reversing their positions on the couch. She suddenly found herself underneath him, the sheikh gently pushing her down to her back without breaking their kiss.

Again, the same thoughts fleeted in her mind---

Was this really happening? Why was this happening? Was she really letting this happen?

But these thoughts were like the softest of clouds, barely making any impression on her passion-clouded senses. And when he joined her on the couch, her arms instinctively looped around his neck, the weight of his body deliciously heavy and powerful---

“No need to formally announce me,” they both heard a dark drawl from the outside. “I’ll simply barge in like usual.” The doors opened soon after, leaving Harper frozen in shock under the sheikh as she found herself staring straight into the surprised eyes of Khalil’s cousin, Tarif.

“Lueta,” Khalil cursed in a growl.

A moment later, and Harper was shoving the sheikh off her with a mortified gasp. Reality had settled in with a sickening crash, and she was aghast at how far she had let things go between them.

“Apologies, anisdi.” Tarif had the grace to look discomfited as Harper hurriedly tried to button her blouse with clumsy fingers.

“Let me.” Khalil’s voice was gentle but his touch was firm as he peeled her fingers away and replaced them with his own. Harper stood stiffly, feeling even more humiliated when he made short work of her buttons. It just showed how little affected he was by what happened, while she on the other hand---

Despair tightened in her throat. Stupid. God, she was so stupid. Why had she let him kiss and touch her so?

As soon as the sheikh finished with the last button of her blouse, she quickly walked away, head held high even though she couldn’t quite meet the other sheikh’s gaze.

She was never, never coming back to Ramil again.

The door slammed shut behind her, and Khalil’s breath hissed out.

Tarif swiftly raised his hands in admission of his guilt. “I am sorry, my brother. I wouldn’t have come in if I had known she was with you.”

He nodded curtly. “But from now on, knock.” Because even though the way Harper Griffiths avoided his gaze told him she didn’t want anything more to do with Khalil – she wasn’t going to have her way. He wouldn’t let her. When he said she was hers, he meant it.

Tarif claimed the seat across the couch. “Are congratulations in order?”

“It will be.”

The other sheikh raised an eyebrow. “But you’ve told her at least?”

Khalil grimaced.

Tarif was incredulous. “But you were already kissing her---”

“I was…distracted.”

There was a moment of silence, and then his cousin started to laugh.

“Nothing about this is funny,” Khalil said stiffly.

Tarif didn’t even bother dignifying the words with an answer. Khalil wasn’t the Emir Sheikh simply because he was Prince Khalid’s only son. Tarif and his other cousins had only chosen to serve him because they knew no one loved their nation more than Khalil did. Khalil’s entire life had been about serving Ramil, and Tarif could not remember the last time his cousin had allowed anything to distract him from his duties---

Until Harper Griffiths.

He had always privately thought that the American woman would make a good match for the king, and now Tarif had no doubts at all. Harper was good for Khalil, if only to remind his cousin that there was life beyond the dictates of the throne.

Glancing at the sheikh, he said conversationally, “I once told Altair that you must have such moments, too, but he didn’t believe me.”

Khalil frowned. “What moments?”

“Where you let dick win over your mind.”