The Sheikh's Virgin Bride(90)

“Whoops. We’re almost there, anyway.”

“There” as it turned out, was nothing less than the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. After Khabib exchanged a few words and a grin with a guard in a booth and parked the car, he opened my door and took me there, to the low stone wall on a hill that overlooked the city. Then, he was sitting once again, patting the top of the wall beside him. I shook my head.

“I could fall.”

“Do you think I would let you fall?”

Silence, then we both laughed. Khabib crossed his arms and made a face, feigning annoyance.

“Get over here. I mean it.”

“All right, all right.”

I gingerly sat down beside him, clutching the wall with white knuckles.

He was close beside me, too close. I had sat too close to him and now it was too late to move; the whole sides of our bodies were touching, our legs nearly intertwined.

“Would you just look at that,” he said, though there was no need.

No, the sight before me, the spanning expanse of lights, the little celebrations of luminescence needed no introduction. This was Los Angeles, the City of Angels, of beauty, my home.

A soft finger brushed my cheek.

“You’re crying. Why?”

With his finger poised there, his face inches from mine, I was about to say it. To explain. But his gaze was flicking to my lips, and saw mine doing the same. So, it wasn’t his fault, really, what he did next. It was our fault.

His lips were soft and insistent, his hands equally so. It was like he was enveloping my entire body with his, like he had been waiting for this, wanting this, as long as I had. When we finally broke apart, when we were warm with arousal and excitement and breathless, he smiled again, gently.

“That was…” Remembering himself, his smile fell. “I’m sorry. Was that wrong of me?”

Now I was the one smiling, shaking my head.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

Relief washed over his face, then he grinned again.

“Can I show you something else, then? One more thing?”

“I’d love you to.”

It was only when we were back in the car and on the road that he mentioned that that one more thing was in his penthouse apartment. Seeing me tense up, Khabib squeezed my hand.

“Spoiler alert: it’s my fat wiener dog.”

I smiled, and on we drove. By the time we pulled up to the towering skyscraper Khabib lived in, I didn’t feel so worried anymore. No, my worry only returned when we got to the top floor, when the elevator doors opened to reveal clear glass doors in front of the most stunning room I’d ever seen.

It was an open-concept room, which meant that his whole, huge apartment was also, in a way, also his bedroom. My attention was momentarily distracted by the fact that his place was nothing less than a lush, verdant paradise. Ornate pottery pieces housed plants on every table and in every corner, with more greenery hanging from the walls and ceiling.

“Did I mention I have a bit of a green thumb?”

Just then, the room was filled with high-pitched barking. Visible a bit of a ways off, wobbling towards us in a frenzied fervor, was—true as Khabib had described—a big, fat, wiener.

When the little brown dog did finally reach me, and I’d managed to get a pat in amidst his frantic barks, suddenly, he jumped up on his hind legs. With one final, now-jubilant yip, he licked my leg and rolled onto his back.

We both laughed, and Khabib took my hand, squeezing it.

“He’s easily won over, though I’ve never seen him react quite like that.”

Releasing my hand, he raised his to my cheek.

“Lucy, I have a confession to make.”

“Oh?”

“I lied.”

Our gazes were locked. I was pretty sure that I knew exactly what he meant, but I asked all the same.

“About?”

“Why I brought you here.”

And then, as his lips hit mine and his hands picked up where they’d left off, I knew.

I wasn’t afraid or worried anymore. I was happy.





Chapter Nine





Khabib




When I woke up, she was still fast asleep, and looked as happy as I felt. I stared into that sweet, content face, waiting for the change of feeling to come. The change that always came. But the more I looked at her, the more I wanted to kiss her, to wake her up.

I got up and patted Bruno before he could start barking for attention. Feeding him lots of dog food distracted him for the time being. Enough for me to get to work on breakfast: toast, eggs, and bacon.

Last night was the best night I could remember having in a long time, and this morning was going to be the best morning. I took my time with the eggs, making sure that they were scrambled to perfection, while the bacon was grilled to the ideal medium between crunchy and chewy Once everything was ready and set onto plates, I tiptoed back to the bed. Laid out there beside her, I gazed at her, waiting. For that normal feeling. The disappointment, the disillusionment. I’d won, after all. I’d had her, just the same as the others. But the longer I looked at her, the more I was realizing that she wasn’t the same as the others—couldn’t be. Because this feeling, this feeling growing in me as I took in her slight smile and askew hair, her glowing skin—no, “normal” was the last thing this was.