Page 14 of Bred By the Sheikh

His rooms were right down the hall.

I had five more days in Dubai.

And five days suddenly felt like a very long time to be sleeping that close to a man I’d spent all afternoon trying not to imagine naked.

Chapter 2

At seven-thirty precisely, Farah escorted Chrissy into the private dining room.

I was already seated. Security remained outside the open doors while household staff moved quietly around a breakfast table large enough to feed a delegation.

Calling the meal breakfast was an understatement.

Warm flatbreads sat beside labneh, olives, dates, berries, sliced melon, eggs, smoked salmon, cheeses, honey, preserves, and pastries dusted with sugar. Silver pots held coffee and tea. Three fresh juices waited in cut-crystal pitchers.

It was an ordinary breakfast in my home.

Chrissy stopped for half a second.

Her gaze moved from the table to me, taking in the traditional white Qadiran dress I wore that morning, then lifted to my face.

“Good morning, Tariq.”

One of the senior attendants stiffened.

“That is Your Highness, miss.”

Chrissy’s eyes went enormous.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” She immediately dipped into an awkward little bow. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

A snort escaped me before I could stop it.

Every member of staff in the room went very still.

“Nonsense.” I looked at Chrissy. “She may call me whatever she pleases.”

Her cheeks turned pink.

“Within reason, I hope.”

I smiled.

“Good morning, Chrissy.”

“Good morning, Tariq.”

She wore a soft peach silk blouse tucked into a cream pencil skirt, with low blush-colored heels. Her strawberry-blonde hair had recovered from the flight and fell in loose waves over her shoulders.

I wanted my hands in it.

A waiter stepped forward and drew out the chair beside mine for her.

Another poured her coffee while a third offered pastries. Chrissy chose one covered in powdered sugar, took a bite, and closed her eyes.

“Oh my God.”

The sound was soft, helpless, and far too close to a moan.