Free Sheikh With Benefits by Teresa Morgan

remember the last time she'd been this happy. It had been a long, long time. Through heroic effort, she kept herself from grinning like an idiot.
    "This," growled—growled!—Javad, "is my woman. You will stay away from her."
    Darius lifted his chin, suddenly looking extremely royal, and extremely pissed off. "Are you out of your mind?"
    Butterflies performed an aerial display in her tummy. This fierce, passionate man was hers. Nothing this incredible had ever happened to her before. Her throat tightened with wild joy. A tear of relief slipped down her cheek, leaving a warm, moist trail.
    Javad, still facing his brother, had a clenched fist jammed into his thigh. She reached for it. His fingers opened to her touch, instantly tangling with hers. He held her hand tight, and she thought he would never let go—but that lasted only a moment. In one second, he turned to her, his eyes flashing heat. He only set her hand free to sweep her off her feet.
    She was too stunned to react as he leaned over to put his arms behind her back and under her legs and picked her up like a desert rogue kidnapping his chosen woman. It wasn't just instinct that made her throw her arms around his neck. Every desire in her heart wanted to draw as close to him as she could without getting arrested for indecency.
    She wasn't feeling particularly decent as Javad carried her through the equally stunned crowd out to the moonlit balcony. She felt like she was flying through the air. Even after he set her down, she wondered if her feet would ever touch the ground again.
    Another amorous couple was enjoying the privacy under the stars. All Javad had to do was level an acidic stare their direction, and the man took his lady by the hand to lead her back to the ballroom.
    She leaned against the carved marble balustrade for support. Her legs were way too weak at the knees to put up with her weight.
    "You," he said to her, in a new, irritated voice she'd never heard from him before. "Will never be allowed to choose your own clothing again. What is this?"
    He fingered the wispy sleeve of her gown.
    "It's gray," she pointed out.
    "I can practically see your undergarments," he said. "Which is not a problem for me. But other men can almost see them, which is never going to happen, do you understand me?"
    Inwardly, she hugged herself in relief and pure delight. Of course she would pick out any dresses she damn well pleased, especially if it resulted in this reaction. He noticed. He cared. She wanted to giggle at the thought that they could fight about it for the rest of their lives. Because whatever else happened, no other man in Ulai could marry her now, after Javad had compromised her honor so very, very publicly.
    He'd taken away all her choice in the matter. But she'd chosen him a long time ago, just like she'd chosen him last night. She'd just bask in the glory of a man she thought would never show any emotion in public claiming her for his own in front of everyone who mattered.
    "Yes, Your Highness," she said, to goad him.
    He barely moved his jaw as he spoke. "I told you to call me by my name."
    "Really," she continued, fighting to keep her tone level. "You don't need to make such a drama out of this. We had a good time last night, that's all. We can still be friends. I know you have a high sense of honor, but you don't have to marry me just because I was a virgin. I knew what I was doing as well as you did. These are modern times—"
    He cut her off with a scorching kiss that possessed her from the inside out. He left her breathless and grabbing him for all the support she could get. His arm at her waist was the only thing keeping her from losing all cohesion and devolving into a puddle of lust.
    A long time later, he broke the kiss and spoke, his tone gravelly. "This has nothing to do with that. I love you and you gave yourself to me and I know that means something to you, as it does to me."
    It meant everything , she wanted to say. "What?" she said