It was almost one in the morning when the sheikh joined Harper in his suite. She was already fast sleep, curled under the covers, and her hair spread against the pillows like a blanket of cinnamon-colored silk.

For a long time, he simply looked at her, letting his gaze feast on her delicate face. In her sleep, she looked even more innocent than usual, so much younger than her twenty-three years –

Was he really going to make this woman shoulder all the burdens of being his queen?

Most women would have jumped at his offer of marriage instantly – that was a given. Those women would only have thought about the money they could spend as his queen, the adulation they would receive, and the power and authority that came with the position. None of them would have bothered to worry about the duties that came with it, none of them would care – and because they didn’t care, being a queen would have been easy for them.

But it would be different for his Harper. He knew this deep in his bones, knew it the way a soul recognized its kindred. Duty and honor meant a lot to Harper, not only because she was Howard Griffiths’ daughter, but also because she was simply that kind of woman. She was, in many ways, born to be his other half, destined to care about the same things he did, destined to serve and suffer beside him.

Her life as his queen would be as much heaven and hell, and knowing this made the sheikh feel guilty. It almost made him want to tell her to forget everything, to forget him.

But he couldn’t.

Because he hadn’t been lying when he told her he needed her – and so did his kingdom.

* * *

When Harper woke, it was to the unusual feeling of warmth, and of strong, hard arms wrapped around---

Her?

She stiffened.

Was this a dream?

Her gaze roamed the room wildly, and reality crashed on her. She was in the sheikh’s private plane, she had fallen asleep in the suite Melina directed her to, and now she was sharing a bed with the sheikh.

Harper immediately tried to get up, but the arms around her tightened.

Shit.

A moment later, she was flat on her back, the sheikh looming over her as the covers fell from his body, revealing his naked chest.

SHIT.

“You’re awake.” His voice was scratchy from sleep.

“Sorry for waking you up,” she muttered while keeping her gaze firmly trained on his neck. Any other part of his body was definitely off-limits. “If you let me go, I can just move to another---”

“This is where you belong, anisdi.”

“Umm, nope.” But the words came out a squeak as the sheikh suddenly moved, and this time he was now firmly between her legs, his phallus nestled against the folds of her pussy.

Her very wet pussy, which she had a nasty feeling he was much aware of because---

“Why are you naked?”

The sheikh winced at the shrill tone. “I always sleep like this---”

“But I’m here!”

She was still shrieking, but now that he was fully awake, it didn’t bother him as much now, and the sheikh’s gaze gleamed with amusement as he studied her flushed face. “All the more reason to be naked, anisdi.”

“This isn’t funny.” She was in bed with the sheikh, and he was naked. Her mind reeled, her teeth gnashed, but oh, how it made her pussy so much wetter. “Just let me go.” She pounded his chest and tried to shove him off but the sheikh was unmovable, and his powerful shoulders only rocked with silent laughter.

“I wanted to wake you up,” the sheikh murmured, “but I figured you needed more rest.”

Harper didn’t answer, concentrating only on trying to get him off her as she thrashed and struggled under his heavy body. She had to get away before he figured out how aroused she was.

“Harper…” The sheikh’s voice was strained. “What you’re doing isn’t helping.”

She didn’t pay attention, only working harder to push him away.

“All this wriggling is simply making me want you more.” And this time the sheikh grabbed one of her hands and shoved it down to where his penis was. Her fingers automatically curled around it, and the sheikh sucked in his breath as her grip tightened.

“Harper.” Her name slipped past the sheikh’s lips in a hoarse groan of desire.

Harper was aghast. And aroused. She hadn’t meant to hold him. But when she felt his erection, her fingers had just moved on its own.

And now, for the life of her, she couldn’t make her fingers let go.

Instead, her fingers started to move.

The sheikh stiffened.

Up, down, up, down.

Oh God, why wouldn’t her fingers stop moving?

“Akhtar.” More.

And she found herself obeying his command, her fingers tightening even as they moved faster, stroking his powerfully twitching phallus up and down, and all the while loving the silky, steely heat of it.

Before she knew it, she was already lifting her hips, her pussy aching, her body writhing restlessly.

“Nem.” Yes. And the sheikh heeded her silent plea as his own hand moved between their bodies, stroking down her waist until he reached her soaking panties.

One hard tear, and the scrap of lace was gone, and his long fingers came into contact with her aching mound.

A gasp tore out of her as his fingers traced her folds at a painfully slow pace.

Her grip on his phallus tightened. “P-please!”

A moment later, one finger slid inside of her, and Harper’s body arched.

Ooooh!

She fell back against the bed with a moan, and this time she couldn’t stop moaning as the sheikh started fucking her with his finger. She tried to match his thrusts with the squeezing strokes of her fingers around his phallus, and soon her breathless pants began to fill the room, mingling with the rough grunts that came out of the sheikh’s throat.

Suddenly, the sheikh pulled away, and she cried out in protest. “No!”

The sheikh rose in his knees, his own hand gripping his phallus, while his finger still thrust in and out of her pussy. A moment later, he was jerking himself off, and another finger slipped inside of her. He fucked her hard with his two fingers, and soon she was crying out, and as he shot his load on her belly, she, too, was coming, her body shuddering as her own cum gushed out of her.

The sight of her lying in sweet helpless abandon on his bed, his cum on her belly, was too damn irresistible for the sheikh, and with a groan Khalil bent down and captured her mouth with his. She kissed him back immediately, her innocent hunger more than a match for his desire, and she didn’t protest at all when he lifted her off the bed and carried her to the en-suite shower.

Harper was in a quiet daze as the sheikh washed her almost like a devoted servant, and she couldn’t help but tremble when he started soaping her body, the strokes of his fingers becoming more and more a caress.

“Such a docile little thing you are now, qalifa.” The sheikh’s tone was a husky murmur.

“I guess…I’m just not the type to beat my head against the wall.” The words came out in little choked gasps, with the sheikh now fondling her breasts from behind.

“You’ve made your decision then?”

“I s-still need a week.”

The sheikh almost smiled. His Harper had never been a pushover, and that she wasn’t going to change now was not displeasing at all. Even so, he wouldn’t make this easy for her. Pulling her closer, he licked her ear, and as she jerked, he said huskily, “At least give me a clue, qalifa. Are you likely to say yes?”

He started tweaking her nipples, and she gasped, “Are you trying to seduce me into obeying you?”

“Is it working?”

She clamped her mouth shut, unwilling to answer, but then the sheikh started nuzzling her neck as well, and when he started sucking on the too-sensitive skin, Harper whimpered---

And then it was gone.

A cry of protest escaped her, and she felt the sheikh smile against her hair. “Do you have anything to say now?”

“You’re a bully.”

He laughed, but his voice was thick with lust as he said, “Only with you.”

And then he was squeezing her breasts hard while rubbing his phallus against her butt, and Harper’s entire body trembled. His touch felt so good, and the sheer size and heat of his erection was driving her out of her mind. She couldn’t stop imagining just how good it would probably feel, once she had his penis buried inside her pussy, and shit, oh, shit, but didn’t that make her a huge slut?

“I hate how weak I am with you,” she mumbled.

“How weak?” the sheikh purred in teasing. “Will you show me?”

“No.” The word came out a grumble, but when he pressed her against the glass wall of the shower Harper could only swallow hard, unable to even lift a single finger in resistance.

A soft, sexy chuckle, and the sheikh whispered into her ear, “I think you’re already showing it.”

“S-shut up.” But they both knew he was right, and when his hands moved down, she could only close her eyes and let the magic begin again.

By the time they left the shower, she was flushed, weak-kneed, and unable to protest as the sheikh once again took charge, towel-drying her body before helping her to a fluffy bathrobe.

She padded to the adjoining suite after, where her clothes were, and once dressed she seated herself before the vanity and was in the middle of blow-drying her hair when the sheikh came in. He leaned against the doorway upon seeing her, but his intense gaze made Harper feel so self-conscious she switched the dryer off, asking baldly, “What is it?”

Khalil shook his head, lying, “Nothing.” The truth was, he had never stayed around for post-coital activities with any of his former lovers. It was the first time for the sheikh to see a woman grooming herself after being with him, and the sight of Harper blow-drying her hair felt strangely erotic – as well as too damn intimate.

This is the point he should walk out, the sheikh thought, lest he forget that theirs was but a marriage of convenience.

But instead, he found himself walking towards her. “May I?”

She blinked. “Dry my hair?” At his nod, she said right away, “No.” It was too intimate, too embarrassing--- “Hey!” But it was too late, since the sheikh had already snatched the dryer from her hand.

He switched it on.

“I just said---”

“Bend your head, please.”

And she found herself obeying the command. Damn it. Why was she such a pushover with this guy?

The feel of the sheikh running his fingers through her hair was too damn sensual, and Harper crossed her arms over her chest when she felt her breasts reacting to the sensation, swelling behind the cups of her bra and her nipples turning hard in arousal.

Shit, shit, shit.

She was such a slut with this guy.

The sheikh was similarly engrossed with what he was doing. He could not help imagining how it would feel, to hold these silky strands in his fist as he forced her to look up ---

Why not do it now, the sheikh thought.

And so he switched the dryer off, fisted her hair, and she gasped as he forced her to look up.

He bent down, kissing her hard, his tongue driving deep into her mouth.

And it was heaven.

Sweet, lustful heaven.

By the time the sheikh finally managed to lift his head, she was staring up at him with eyes made hazy by desire, and she was panting ever so softly.

She looked so damn sexy –

Too much so.

“Do not ever show that face to any other man than me, Harper Griffiths.”

“This…face?” Harper blinked. “Do I have any other face?”

The sheikh remained unsmiling. “I mean it, qalifa.” He pulled her up. “You. Are. Mine.”

“Umm. Okay.” Harper was doing her best not to grin. She was also doing her best to remind herself that these me-Tarzan, you-Jane-mine approaches used to be a major turn-off for her, but why, oh, why was it different when it was the sheikh saying these things?

“I mean it,” the sheikh warned her.

“Yes, yes, I heard you.” It was really, really hard not to grin now. “But you do know I live in the smallest town in the middle of nowhere, Nebraska, right? The only eligible men in it are not my type.”

“But they are still men.”

“Yup, but they say ‘moo’ rather than ‘hi’.” Color stained the sheikh’s high-boned cheeks when he realized she was joking, and Harper could no longer keep herself from laughing.

He cupped her cheeks, growling, “You may tease me all you want, but I am serious. Everything has changed.” And right now, Khalil was furious with himself. He shouldn’t have given her his word about this one-week thing. Or at least, he should have laid the law down and told her that she could think all she want in his palace, where he could keep her to himself.

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” Harper dismissed. “They’ve seen me in your company for eight years, and everyone thinks---” She grimaced. “I’m just your friend.”

That was then, the sheikh thought, when his prank-loving cousin Tarif had not yet released an announcement to the papers, saying that he had been secretly in love with Harper for eight years.