Annabelle yanked the spiral phone cord again, trying to gain another inch or so as she propped her toes on the bathroom counter. She grunted.

“Sorry. I thought corded phones died in the early 2000’s, but apparently not in Parsabad.” She steadied herself on one leg, adjusting the receiver between her ear and shoulder.

“You could call me on your cell phone, you know. Like a regular human being,” Marian mused from across the world.

“I get better rates this way,” Annabelle said, carefully dipping her nail polish brush back into the bright red lacquer. She should have gotten a pedicure, but the pile of corporate merger documents waiting for her demanded she stay in the room. If only to feel productive.

“Well anyway. Go on.”

“Right.” Annabelle sighed, picking up her story from where she’d left off. “So, men are awful and I can’t get away from them. That’s basically the bottom line.”

Marian chucked. “No, the story you were telling was significantly different than that.”

“When I gave Imaad the prenup, he acted like I’d suggested we go on a killing spree. He doesn’t want to get married either, so what’s the big deal? I’m so sick of all these fragile male egos. The second a woman tries to take control, he needs to swoop in and be offended.”

“Honey, prenups are an American thing. He probably had never seen one.”

“And above him and me are two more men who are completely conservative assholes trying to rule our lives. Why is this a metaphor for my life? I can never escape my father and his ridiculous scheming. I just want to be left to make my own decisions for once.”

“Well, what would you decide now if you could?”

Annabelle straightened, nail polish brush hovering in mid-air. “I’d finish the merger and fuck Imaad every weekend.”

Marian burst out laughing. “Why only the weekend? That could be every night.”

“Yeah, but that would be like marriage, which would be the same as accepting what my father forced on me. No thanks.”

“I don’t think most married people have sex every day. Actually, if you fuck only on the weekends, that would be more like married life.”

Annabelle got a shiver through her, but she couldn’t for the life of her say why. There was something forbidden about thinking of Imaad as her chosen partner. “Whatever. You get my point.”

“The point being that you like Imaad.”

“I don’t like him,” she clarified. “I think he’s hot. There’s a huge difference.”

“How hot are we talking? Like, melt-me-into-candlewax hot?”

“I’d say something a little bit hotter than that,” Annabelle said with a sigh, capping her nail polish. Her toes were bright red and only slightly unevenly coated—overall, a win for Parsabad. “Like you could melt the one ring to rule them all, Mount Doom-style hot.”

Marian let a shuddery sigh. “Yeah. Okay.”

A faint knock sounded on the door and she jumped. “I think someone just knocked.”

“Maybe you accidentally summoned Imaad.”

Annabelle laughed, but her belly knotted fiercely. Could it be? She’d successfully avoided him since last night’s dinner. And her game plan was to keep avoiding him, until either business or blatant sexual need forced them back together.

She waddled through the master suite and toward the foyer on her heels, careful not to smudge her freshly applied nail polish. She peered through the peephole and gasped.

“What is it?” Marian asked, fear edging her voice.

Annabelle waddled backwards, eyes fixed on the door. “It’s Imaad.” She gulped. “And he’s dressed to kill.” Through the peephole, she’d gotten a glimpse of him in a white linen shirt undone at the top, letting a healthy amount of chest hair show through. He looked casual and unaffected. So hot that she didn’t trust herself to even open the door with the security latch on.

“Let him in!”

Imaad knocked again, and she nodded, though no one could see it. “Okay. I’ll call you later.” She lowered the receiver, but the base was in the master suite. The cord wrapped ingloriously around the doorframe, as if she were thirteen all over again. She sighed, tugging open the door with one hand.

“Hey, you.” Imaad’s grin evaporated any ounce of self-control she might have had. She smiled in response, unable to rip her gaze from his exposed chest. Their dark hookup the other night meant she had only felt it. But seeing him in the light, the bronzed, toned, Middle Eastern God that he was, made her realize just how special that hookup had been. Like bedding Adonis himself.

Stop thinking like that. He’s just a guy.

“What are you doing here?” She leaned against the door, trying to hide the receiver behind it.

Imaad held up a bottle of red wine. “Thought you might want some company.”

Damn you, thoughtful man. “Well, I was just reviewing the merger documents. It might be a conflict of interest if you help me do that.”

“No, I didn’t come to work.” He wet his bottom lip, his gaze making an obvious trail up her body. “I came to help you relax.”

Every cell of her body lit up and she dropped the receiver. She hurried to pick it up but the tightly wound cord dragged it away from her, halfway back around the corner into the bedroom. She cleared her throat, declaring it a loss. She resumed leaning against the door.

“Why do you think I need to relax?” It was all she could come up with.

Imaad laughed softly and then stepped into the suite, squeezing her elbow as he passed. “Shall we open this now or later?”

She swung the door shut behind him, mind spinning with excitement. “Now is good.” But if this was heading where she thought it was, then they might as well not drink it at all. She started to follow him to the kitchenette but remembered her wet toe nails. This couldn’t have been worse timing.

“Um.” She bit her lip, looking at her feet. “I just did my nails.”

Imaad set the bottle down, turning to her. His eyes were so dark, but still they sparkled somehow, like the sea in moonlight. “That won’t be a problem.”

“No, it’s just that I painted them, and I don’t want to—” While she spoke, he came toward her. A moment later he swept her into his arms, grinning from ear to ear.

“I can help you out with that.” His strong arms encircled her, like a protective shield. She sighed, relaxing into the embrace, once again feeling drugged by the contact. He felt too good. Too damn good. It wasn’t fair.

“Well thanks,” she said, hooking an arm around his neck. She could get used to this. “Though I don’t need your help.”

“I never thought you did.” He went into the bedroom, the scent of his cologne searing through her. “But I want to give it anyway.”

There was something so simple and sweet there, she was hesitant to think too long on it. He lowered her to the bed gently, as if she were in danger of breaking.

“You don’t need to be so gentle with me,” she chided, pressing her palms into the mattress. “I’m not a fragile princess.”

“Can’t please you,” he said, with a trace of a smile on his face. He grabbed her at the hips, yanking her closer to him. “Is that better?”

Her breath caught in her throat. So that’s where he was taking it: exactly where she’d been desperate for it to go. Her legs fell open on auto-pilot. His warm groin found the space there and filled it perfectly, his lips hovering at her forehead.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Annabelle.” His voice came out a sexy whisper, one that would haunt her for the rest of her life. “I know this arrangement makes things feel odd. But it doesn’t have to.”

There was nothing odd about him between her legs. She hooked her ankles around his back, her nail polish the last thing on her mind. “We shouldn’t mess up the arrangement with a physical thing.” Her words were limp, void of conviction. “It’ll just be confusing.”

“But there’s nothing confusing about this,” he murmured, grinding his hips in a slow circle. The rock-hard shaft of his cock grazed her pussy, and she gasped, knotting her hand in the back of his shirt.

“I want you,” Imaad murmured, his breath coming out hot at her ear. “Since the moment I saw you. Arrangement or not, it doesn’t change how I feel.”

That was hard to argue against. Besides, it was true for her, too. No matter how much she tried to deny it. Maybe just for a while, there could be no strings attached. Just good, clean, sexy fun—two adults taking advantage of some alone time here and there.

“We’re adults, anyway,” she added, more for herself than for him. “I mean, I’m a liberated woman. This doesn’t mean anything.”

Imaad placed soft kisses along her neckline, making a velvety warm trail down her skin. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“The prenup is still going to be in effect,” she added, though it was hard to keep her focus. His kisses trailed to the valley of her breasts. “This is just, you know, fun.”

He murmured something and then nuzzled at her cleavage. His hands appeared at the hem of her shirt, pushing it up, revealing her belly.

Annabelle opened her mouth to add more but realized there was nothing left to say. Fuck it, anyway. She whimpered, arching herself toward him, and he pushed her shirt over her head and then tugged it off, tossing it aside. His fingertips danced along the line of her bra, making her skin goose pimple in its wake.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” Imaad said, sincerity swarming his gaze. Something in his tone told her he wasn’t lying. She wanted to deflect it, to write him off as a smooth-talking wooer, but she couldn’t find her voice.

His kisses trailed up her jawline and then up to her lips, his closeness leaving her shocked and rigid beneath him. When they parted, she drew a ragged breath, cinching her arm around his neck.

“Why do you kiss so well?” She rubbed her cheek against his, trying to make her mind stop spinning. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s just something about you,” he whispered into her ear, his hands grabbing big handfuls of her ass. He hoisted her against him, searing their groins together. Excitement shuddered through her. “We fit together well.”

She didn’t have time to wonder about his words; his next kiss stole her breath, left her desperate for more. They kissed sloppily, hungrily, as if they had a time limit. Imaad rocked against her, his stiff cock pressing up against just the right spot. She let out a low moan through the kiss, pulling at his shirt.

“Okay, take this off.” She smoothed her hands up over his rock-hard abs, fingers tripping over the washboard. “Mr. Shows Up Baring Chest Hair. Like I’m supposed to resist that. Take it off.”

He leaned back, grinning, while he undid the buttons of his shirt. “So, my plan worked.”

“It was a transparent plan,” she said, gaze riveted to the dark caramel skin being revealed, inch by laborious inch. “One that I saw through immediately, I’ll have you know.”

“Good.” He shrugged the shirt off, letting it crumple to the floor. She sighed as she took in his wiry chest hair, the toned planes of his stomach. “It was meant to be seen through.”

He slipped his fingers under the waistband of her shorts, pushing them down over her hips, to her knees, and then finally her ankles. He took care with slipping them over her feet, but grimaced once he’d tossed them aside.

“I’m afraid your pedicure didn’t survive,” he said, his thumbs massaging the bottom of each foot. Her eyes fluttered shut, and all she could do was shake her head. This man’s touch was lightning. He could ruin a thousand pedicures and it would be fine, as long as he touched her somewhere.

“I don’t care.” She clamped her feet around his back, urging him up. “Get up here.”

Imaad bit at the inside of each thigh, kissing his way up toward the seam of her panties. She tensed as he neared, her pussy throbbing with anticipation. Imaad nuzzled the crotch of her underwear and then nipped at her clit through the fabric. She inhaled sharply, wiggling her hips to urge him on.

Imaad pulled the fabric aside with two fingers and rubbed his nose against the stiff peak of her clit. And then he flattened his tongue against the tight nub, rolling it around in circles, lavishing it with attention. She whimpered, grabbing handfuls of the comforter beneath her, lifting her hips off the bed to meet him.

He suckled and slurped at her, never breaking the rhythm, slowly introducing one finger and then two into her sopping pussy. She moaned as he pushed his fingers in and out, frustratingly slowly, just enough to make the churning inside ramp up into a boil.

His teasing pushed her to the brink in record time. Thighs clenched around his head, Imaad pulled back to look at her, a knowing grin on his face.

“No,” she said breathlessly.

“You’re close,” he said.

“Exactly.” She struggled to regain her breath, clawing at his shoulders. “You can’t do that.”

He smirked, stepping away from the bed, pushing his slacks down, followed by his black briefs. His cock sprang free, bobbed heavy and bulbous before her, and all her thoughts disappeared.

“Okay.” She leaned back onto the bed, admiring it, the purply flush in the head, the way it curved ever-so-slightly to the left. All the things she hadn’t seen on the dunes. Features that needed to be admired—even worshipped—about this man. “That’s fine.”

Imaad grinned at her so tenderly that she thought her heart might break. Why did he just feel right? It defied explanation, which irked her. He eased down over top of her, the heat of his cock settling nicely between her legs. She drew a sharp breath once it nestled into position, pressing against the damp fabric of her panties.

Imaad leaned back and flipped her effortlessly. She laughed once she was on her belly, looking back at him expectantly.

“I want you like this.” He took a big bite of her ass cheek, hurting just enough to be sexy, and then tugged her panties down over her ass. He tossed them aside, nudging her legs apart, sealing himself against the curve of her ass. His hot cock sought entrance immediately, the cockhead brushing against her needy nub.

“Oh God,” she whimpered, knotting her hands into the blanket. She would come so fast. “Come on, Imaad. I need it.”

He smoothed a hand up along the ridge of her spine, and then knotted his hand in her hair. Her head yanked back and she inhaled sharply.

“You sure?” He said something in Farsi that she didn’t understand, but it was so hot she shivered.

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” she said, arching her butt in the air. His cockhead slid along the slippery folds of her pussy, and he moaned low.

Imaad pushed himself into her and slid his hands down the sides of her body, gripping her hips as if she might float away if he didn’t anchor her. He pressed inside slowly, honoring the fact that he was a big boy and she needed to adjust a little bit. Her breath hitched as he sank deeper, and once he was buried to the hilt, he grunted.

“Jesus,” she breathed.

He grunted again, hooking her at the hips, bringing her up to her knees. She arched her back, leaning back into him, allowing him the deepest angle possible. He rocked against her, tentative despite the pulsating desire thrumming between them.

“You like it?” His voice came out haggard, sounding like someone else’s.

She laughed throatily, eyes drifting shut. “Like it? Not even close.”

“Good.” He pulled out and then eased himself back in. Her pussy tightened around him, begging for him to stay. “We don’t have time for mediocre.”

He pulled out again and then entered more forcefully, which stole her breath.

“Oh my God,” she moaned.

“Mm-hmm.” He palmed both ass cheeks, and then gave one a curt slap. “Where do you want me to come, baby?”

The question zipped through her, striking her as both bizarre and titillating. She liked how he ceded control…but also how he took it from her, too. Their dynamic was something special, and like nothing she’d experienced before. Most men she bedded tended to be pushovers who just wanted to finger her raw or supreme alphas who got off on barking commands.

There had been no in-between…until Imaad.

She thought about it for a few seconds, until the words leaped from her mouth. “On my back.”

He grunted his approval and slammed inside her again, deeper than she’d ever felt before. She moaned throaty and low, her pussy quaking and quivering as he took her again and again. The buzz started deep inside her, so powerful that she didn’t know if she’d be able to handle the orgasm. Maybe it would be too good. Imaad grunted, slapping her ass cheek one more time, and then croaked out, “I’m close.”

“Me too,” she whimpered, grasping at the bedspread. “Oh God, me too.”

Imaad rocked against her, burying himself so deeply that her vision went spotty. She tensed around him, wailing as the waterfall of pleasure began. Imaad thrust in and out again, and then he gave a muffled cry. A moment later, she felt warm liquid coating her back, drizzling down the sides of her waist.

She laughed low, smashing her face into the comforter, her whole body going limp as the tidal wave of bliss receded into a low buzz.

Imaad stilled for a moment, and then reached for something. A tissue, she realized as he gently wiped her back clean and then collapsed on the bed beside her. She found her place in his arms easily, curled up against his chest, lulled into fragrant dreams in her post-coital euphoria.