Carrying the Sheikh's Heir(63)

                “Stop flirting with me.” He tried to sound stern but she only laughed. And then she stood on tiptoe and pulled his head down. He thought she was going to kiss him on the mouth, but she turned her head at the last moment and landed a kiss on his jaw. Then she laughed and pulled out of his arms.

                He snatched her back and kissed her properly until she clung to him, until her body went soft and her tongue glided against his and she sighed.

                He considered taking her on the desk when there was a noise. A whimper. Sheridan pushed him away and stood with her eyes wide. “What was that?”

                “What was what?”

                “That...that sound. Like a puppy—” And then her breath caught and her eyes brightened and Rashid reached for the basket. He opened the lid and a pale golden puppy sat there, blinking and yawning.

                When it saw Sheridan, the little tail thumped. Sheridan squealed as she reached into the basket and took the puppy out. “Oh, sweet baby, what are you doing in the big, bad king’s office? Are you hiding?”

                She looked up at him, her eyes shining, and he couldn’t remember why he wasn’t supposed to feel a flood of warmth at that look. Why it was dangerous to do so.

                “The puppies are old enough to go to permanent homes now. I thought you might like one of your own. Daoud said this one was your favorite.”

                “Oh, Rashid.” She bent her head and put her face in the dog’s fur. “Yes,” she said softly. “He’s a precious little guy.”

                Rashid was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Not in a bad way, but in a “what the hell do I do now” way. Why hadn’t he just sent Daoud to her room with the puppy? Except that she wasn’t staying in her room lately, was she?

                No, she’d been in his every night for the past two weeks. He liked having her there. He thought back to that very first night when he’d found her on his terrace and made love to her. And then he’d jumped out of bed like he’d been singed and escorted her back to her room. He’d followed it up by doing the same thing the next time he’d lost control with her, and she’d thought that meant he didn’t want to be touched.

                Nothing was further from the truth. He loved when she touched him, loved the tenderness in her fingers, the sweetness in her tongue, the wickedness in her mouth when she took him between her lips. He was beginning to crave her touch.

                She beamed at him, her sweet face lighting up with joy. His heart, that organ that was supposed to be encased in ice, kicked. He reached down deep, searching for the ice, jerked it back into place like a blanket.

                He could smile, he could be warm and make love, but he could not let his heart be touched. That was the last battleground and the one he would not allow to be breached.

                Rashid reached out and stroked the dog’s head. “It will be good for the baby to grow up with a dog.”

                Her smile didn’t waver. “It will be good for me, too. Thank you.”

                She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and then she wandered over to the seating area and set the dog on the floor. The little guy scampered around happily, and Rashid hoped he didn’t pee on the rug.

                “Are you prepared for the trip?” he asked. They were traveling out into the desert so that he could fulfill his duties to meet with some of the nomadic tribes that still ranged the vast Kyrian Desert. It was mostly ceremonial, but necessary. And while he could leave Sheridan behind for the week or so he would be gone, he wanted her to see the desert as he saw it. The beauty, the majesty, the overwhelming might of all that sand and sun. He wanted his child to feel it inside the womb, to become one with the land, the same as he was.