there was something terribly freeing about it being a work deal, for she could be as provocative as all hell without being accused of being a tease.
‘This,’ she said, ‘is how I wanted to greet you.’
She kissed him harder still, and Kedah loved it that she did not hold back from revealing her pleasure.
Her body was lithe, and it pressed into his as their tongues met. Provocatively, he ran a hand down her spine until it came to rest on one heart-shaped buttock while the other hand went to the back of her head so that he could kiss her more thoroughly.
It was more of a kiss than she had ever known.
She had a brief wish that their clothes would evaporate, because she knew herself that in that space of time when he removed her clothes common sense would kick in.
And she knew Kedah and where a kiss would lead.
She pulled her face away, and her mouth was wet and swollen, her skin pink and inflamed from the roughness of his jaw.
He was hard against her, and her breasts were aching for his touch, for his mouth, for any contact he cared to bestow.
He kissed her again, but this time his fingers tightened in her hair, and it was the roughest, most thorough kissing of her life.
He held her hips and rubbed her against himself.
She peeled her mouth away and still he held her. He could feel her body trembling as she fought the writhing want within. Her eyes were green and her mouth was open, dragging in air, and he held her hair taut in his hand and fought not to tug it—hard. He fought not to pull back her head and lower his mouth again.
He stroked her where his hand cupped her bottom, and then he pulled her further in so she could feel every generous inch of his hard length against her stomach.
And it was too late to worry about the time, for her fingers had moved to the row of small buttons on his shirt and she’d exposed his muscular chest.
Kedah loved the way her hands were not shy—how, as her mouth still merged with his, she toyed with his flat nipples and then, bored with them, let her hand creep down to the soft snake of silken hair that had entranced her from that first glimpse.
From her bag on the table her phone bleeped with a text message, just as the head of his erection nudged her palm.
‘That will be the driver, telling me to hurry you up.’
‘Hurry me up, then.’
And he felt her smile, for her lips stretched beneath his as he took her hand and ran it the length of his long, hard shaft.
His other hand pressed at her head, and she knew—because this was the kind of man she was choosing to get involved with—that from the direction of the pressure Kedah exerted she should be dropping to her knees—oh, right about now.
But he was in for that shock. For she had needs of her own and it would never be all about him.
‘Kedah,’ she said, and removed her hand as she lifted her head. ‘We really don’t have time for foreplay.’
She watched his eyes flare as she stepped back from his embrace and reached for her bag.
‘Foreplay?’ he checked.
‘It’s when—’
‘I do know what it is, thank you,’ he snapped.
‘Good.’ She smirked. ‘I’ve got news for you, Kedah. I didn’t come up here just to satisfy your needs. I have terms and conditions of my own!’
And she was doing it.
Somehow, against this very powerful man, she was holding her own.
‘We need to get a move on, Kedah. I’ll see you down there.’
SIX FOOT THREE of sulking Sheikh boarded the plane.
Kedah did not need the complication of Felicia.
But he had tasted her now.
And she did not need the arrogance of him.
She wanted him, though.
They sat on his private jet and her skin was prickling—so much so that she almost went through her bag for antihistamines, till she realised this was no allergic reaction. She was on fire for him.
The take-off was smooth and he glanced up as a flight attendant came over.
‘Can I get you anything, Your Highness?’
‘Shaii.’ Kedah asked for tea, and it was served in a long crystal glass and cold, as he liked it. It was refreshing and sweet but not soothing.
He took out the diamond that he carried and tapped it on the gleaming table. He saw Felicia glance over.
‘That’s a pretty elaborate worry bead.’
‘I told you,’ a surly Kedah replied. ‘I never worry.’
The tapping resumed as he pulled up a file.
Not any old file.
He had been working on this for years, for it was Zazinia as he envisaged it.
Every plan he had submitted had been rejected, every vision he’d had for his home discounted, and they were all compiled in this one stunning display. He sat there watching as buildings rose before his eyes and bridges connected them. He had designed all the infrastructure—the roads and railways were splendidly linked—and yet none of it had been implemented. At every turn he had been thwarted. This was the reason Kedah was rarely home.
He closed the file and worked instead on a skyline that he could change. He started on some preliminary designs for his latest Dubai project.
He was considering linking the hotels—either with a monorail or possibly a tunnel. It would be a huge venture. Yet Felicia was right. Why link two hotels that were basically the same? Now, thanks to her, the gender was no longer clear, for he was thinking of a more recreational facility. One families or couples might choose to visit.
His plane was usually a second office, but she was invading his headspace. She was even influencing his hotel’s design. So he closed the file. Hussain could work on it further, or tell him outright if he was dreaming too big, Kedah decided.
He opened his email and flicked over to Felicia the files he wanted her to tidy up. He added a message telling her that he wanted her to write a cover note for Hussain, but then, distracted, realised he’d sent the wrong file.
For the first time since leaving the hotel he spoke to her.
‘Delete the last email I sent,’ Kedah said. ‘The information I want you to forward to Hussain is in
