“I’m heating up the ataif that Ghania prepared.” And attempting to hide his sins by paying more attention to the stove than his guest.
“What is ataif?” she asked.
Recipe recitation should aid in calming his baser urges. When goats sprouted wings. “Ataif is a Middle Eastern pancake dipped in honey and cinnamon and covered in walnuts. It is served with a heavy cream known as kaymak.”
“Thank you for such a thorough description, Chef Sheikh. Now, who is Ghania?”
He was somewhat surprised she hadn’t asked that question first. “Ghania is Qareeb’s wife. They’re the caretakers. She was kind enough to bring the food by a few moments ago.”
“How nice of her.”
He afforded her another fast glance before returning to his task. “I received news about my son. According to Maysa, he only awoke one time.”
“You have cell towers all the way out here?”
“No. The message arrived by carrier pigeon.”
“Very amusing,” she said before he felt something hit the back of his head.
He looked down to see a wadded paper napkin at his feet. “No need for violence. If you care to communicate with someone, you may use the phone in my study. It’s a direct line to the palace that I had installed in the event a military crisis arises.”
“That’s good to know, and I’d also like to know why you refuse to look at me. I know my hair’s still damp and I don’t have on a scrap of makeup, but it can’t be all that bad. Or maybe it could.”
If she only knew how badly he wanted her, with or without the feminine frills, she would not sound so unsure of herself. “For your information, you are a natural beauty, and I am trying to retain some dignity since it seems I am unable to cool my engine in your presence.”
“Still revving to go, are you?”
Piper’s amused tone sent him around to face her. And if matters weren’t bad enough, she was seated on the high-back bar stool facing him, her shapely thighs completely uncovered due to the split in the white cloth. “Are you naked beneath the robe?”
She leaned back against the stainless steel island, using her elbows for support. “Yes, I am. I forgot to bring panties into the bath before I showered.”
He was seconds away from forgetting himself and the food preparation. “Perhaps you should dress before we dine.”
She crossed one leg over the other and loosened the sash enough to create a gap at her breasts, giving him a glimpse of one pale pink nipple. “Perhaps we should forgo breakfast for the time being.”
That was all it took to commit a culinary cardinal sin by leaving the pan on the burner. But if the whole bloody kitchen went up in flames, it could not rival the heat he experienced at that moment.
Without giving her fair warning, Adan crossed the small space between them and kissed her with a passion that seemed to know no bounds. He untied the robe, opened it completely, pushed it down her shoulders and then left her mouth to kiss her neck. He traveled down her bare torso, delivering more openmouthed kisses, pausing briefly to pay homage to her breasts before continuing down her abdomen. What he planned next could prompt her to shove him away, but he was willing to take a chance to reap the reward—driving her to the brink of sexual insanity. A small price to pay for ultimate pleasure, as she would soon see, if she allowed it.
When Adan parted her knees, he felt her tense and noted apprehension in her eyes. “Trust me, mon ange,” he whispered.
She smiled weakly. “Considering I’m half-naked on a bar stool, that would indicate I’m no angel, Adan. But I do trust you. So hurry.”
Permission granted, all systems go. He began by lowering to his knees and kissing the insides of her thighs until he felt her tremble. As he worked his way toward his intended target, she shifted restlessly and then lifted her hips toward his mouth in undeniable encouragement. He used gentle persuasion to coax her climax with soft strokes of his tongue, the steady pull of his lips. As she threaded her fingers through his hair and held on firmly, he sensed he would soon achieve his goal. He wasn’t the least bit wrong. She released a low moan as the orgasm took over, yet he refused to let up until he was certain she’d experienced every last wave.
Only after he felt her relax did his own desires demand to be met, and so did the need to make haste. He quickly came to his feet, grabbed the condom she’d discarded on the island and ripped open the plastic with his teeth.
Adan had the condom in place in a matter of moments and then seated himself deep inside her. He tried to temper his thrusts, but when Piper wrapped her legs around his waist, restraint left the bungalow. He couldn’t readily recall feeling so driven to please a woman. He could not remember the last time he had felt this good. His thoughts disappeared when his own climax came with the force of a missile and seemed to continue for an extraordinary amount of time.
Little by little, logic began to return, including the fact he’d probably turned the cakes into cinders. He lifted his head and sought Piper’s gaze. “I fear I have failed in my chef duties.”
She reached up and stroked his unshaven jaw. “But you didn’t fail me in your lovemaking duties, and that’s much more important than breakfast.”
For the first time in his life, he’d needed to hear that declaration from a lover. He’d never lacked in confidence or consideration of his partners’ needs, yet he had kept his emotions at arm’s length with every woman—until now.
But as much as he wanted to please this beautiful woman in his arms, as much as he would like to give more of himself to her, he wasn’t certain he could. And if his relationship history repeated itself, he would probably fail her, too.
After they arrived back at the airbase and boarded the blasted motorcycle again, Piper feared turning prematurely gray thanks to Adan’s daredevil driving. Fortunately that wasn’t the case, she realized when they entered the palace foyer and she sneaked a peek in the gold-framed mirror. Granted, her hair was a tangled mess, but she couldn’t wait a minute longer to see baby Sam.
Adan obviously felt the same, evidenced by his decision to forgo the elevator and take the stairs instead. She practically had to sprint to catch up with him as Abdul, who insisted on carrying her bag, trailed behind them.
Once they reached the third floor, both she and the houseman were winded, while Adan continued toward the nursery as if he possessed all the energy in the world. He actually did, something she’d learned over the past forty-eight hours in his bed. In his shower. In his kitchen and the pool.
Before Adan could open the nursery door, a striking woman with waist-length brunette hair walked out, clearly startled by the sheikh’s sudden appearance. “You took years off my life, brother-in-law.”
“My apologies, Maysa,” he replied, confirming she was the reining queen. “I’m anxious to see about my son.”
Maysa closed the door behind her before facing Adan. “I have already put him down
