Free Sheikh's Fake Fiancee by Jessica Brooke, Ella Brooke Page A

pleasure in driving his own.
    “So, I take it you liked it?” she said, laughing as she settled herself back onto the bed.
    “I think you could say that,” he said, stepping into the side bathroom. It was tiny as hell but he was able to clean off a bit. When he slipped into bed beside his wife, he handed her a small towel. She accepted it readily and dabbed at her mouth. “You were excellent.”
    “I’m glad I could serve my sheikh then,” she said, rolling her eyes a bit. “I wasn’t trying to win a contest, Bahan. I just…we only have seventy-two hours before we go back to New York and our crazy lives. I’ll probably now have real-life paparazzi trying to snap pictures of me or some huge news outlet wanting to interview me as an up-and-coming royal.”
    “I like the emphasis on the word coming , myself,” he said, chuckling and then kissing her temple. “I know, and that’s why I’m glad we can have some time to ourselves. Some pleasure…”
    “Exactly! I feel like you deserve it. I mean, I know you’re getting to keep the throne out of the deal, but any woman could have helped you.”
    His nostrils flared and Bahan pushed some of his frustration and temper away. It was mostly at his mother, who had most likely sneaked in harsh words for his bride before their big day. “I did not want just any warm body to fill this slot. Even if it’s for a couple of years.” He worked hard to keep his voice from coming out too mournful.
     Bahan knew exactly who he wanted to be the sheikha by his side, now or a decade from now. There was hardly any woman he’d ever met with more strength, compassion, or familial loyalty. But he didn’t know if Jennifer could ever feel the same way. The last thing he wanted was to put any more pressure on her when her life was already so chaotic.
    “I know, but the sheikh—”
    “Is now you,” he said, steadying her chin with his fingers. “Do you understand that part, my wild one? Whatever Mother blathered on about, however you feel about your coming role, fleeting as it may be, you are the sheikha now. You don’t have to answer to anyone at all.”
    Her blue eyes lit up and she bit her lip, the playfulness seeming to come back into her words. “So if I don’t answer to anyone, does that mean I don’t have to listen to you either, Bahan?”
    “I never said anything quite like that,” he replied, winking at her. “After all, you are my wife and you serve me.”
    “Well, it is the twenty-first century now, and I’ve always been an equal-opportunity woman. I think that if I give you a mind-numbing orgasm, then I’m due one too, and soon.”
    “I suppose that it could be arranged, sheikha,” he said, stroking her cheek. “We’ll get through Sydney’s operation together. And Mother’s controlling ways and whatever the press or even other countries might want.”
    “Wait? So I’d go to a state dinner?”
    “I’d try and avoid that or any duties for you outside of what you need or want until Sydney’s better. Right now, we just focus on your family doing what it needs to to thrive right now. I think the world and the press can wait. It grieves me a bit because I would like you to see Yemen, but it’s not time yet.”
    She frowned back at him. “That’s kind of good in a way. I was worried that we were going to be sneaking a trip to the Middle East in. I didn’t want to leave the country.”
    He laughed, letting it grow to a low rumble in his chest, even as he buried his nose in her hair, reveling in the scent of her, that sweet hint of freesia. “I didn’t say that, my love.”
    Her eyes grew wide. “I…where are we going?”
    “The City of Lights, or Paris, whichever moniker you prefer. We’ll be home by Tuesday morning and you know the best doctors in the world plus your mother are there. Sydney will be fine for a few days without you, I promise.”
    She sighed and snuggled into him, her earlier lust seemingly burned out. “I hope so. I just…I’m