My Insatiable Sheikh - Marian Tee Page 0,6

ours was directly set against the window and offered a fantastic night view of the city. It would've been perfect, really, except for the fact that instead of chairs, we had a two-seater bar bench to share between us.

"I don't think we'd fit," I said right away. "Maybe we should ask—-"

"We'll make it work, habibti."

A moment later, and my worst fears were confirmed, with both of us squeezed up so closely against each other it almost as if we were one.

I could feel him watching me, but I stubbornly kept my gaze straight ahead and fought to keep still even as I felt him lean closer...and closer...until he was facing me directly, and as his thigh pressed hard against mine, my body temperature, already feverish, sky-rocketed.

"Why are you so determined to fight this?" The words, whispered straight into my ear, nearly had me jumping out of my skin.

Shit!

I instinctively tried moving away, but his arm, resting against the back of the bench, was around me in an instant.

"Let go," I hissed under my breath.

Instead of answering me, I felt his fingers slowly trail up until they were wrapped around my nape, and a moment later, it was that pressure again...like a gentle but inflexible command.

He wanted me to face him...and I found myself doing as ordered.

Because I have no choice, I told myself, and not because I liked him ordering me around.

When his dark gaze captured mine, the glitter of lust I saw in his eyes made me catch my breath.

Ever since that day Dahlia impersonated me, I had never allowed myself to have any male friends, much less let a man come this close to me, so damn close that when I looked into the sheikh's eyes, I could read exactly what he was thinking.

And right now, this man had only one thought in mind.

He...wanted...to fuck...me.

Hard.

I could feel my cheeks burning at the realization, and I hurriedly tried to think of something to talk about, just to get my mind out of the gutter. "I...um..." Think, you idiot! "I...I asked the law firm for your name."

"Ah." The sheikh leaned back slightly at the words, and I hated the way the increased distance made me feel a little empty. Something was definitely wrong with me, dammit.

"My name is not something you need to know at the moment."

I gaped at him. "Are you serious?" This man was willing to pay me - I mean, Dahlia - half a million bucks total to impregnate me (no, wait, it's Dahlia, dammit)...and he didn't think I - she - needed to know his name?

"You may call me sheikh, whether we are fucking or not—-"

"You really are an asshole, sheikh. The biggest fucking asshole I've ever had the misfortune to meet...sheikh." I made sure to spit the last word out like it was another word for shit, but to my consternation, this only had the SOB smiling.

"I wonder if you'll continue talking in such a manner," he mused, "if you can see just how much hearing you cuss like a sailor turns me on."

When I opened my mouth to say 'fuck you', I saw him smirk and realized right away he had been telling the truth.

My potty mouth did turn him on.

Dammit.

I was still trying to think of a way to get back at him when a pair of waiters came to our table and served our first course: a beautifully plated dish of Greek salad, along with a single serving of Japanese sushi.

"Truce for now?" the SOB asked.

"Fine," I answered grudgingly, mostly because I was starving, having only had cereal for breakfast and nothing else after that.

The entrée that followed was a huge, mouthwatering slab of A5 wagyu, Level 12, and served with Greek lemon rice on the side. This was then followed by a dessert tray: bite-sized pieces of revani along with a colorful assortment of wagashi or traditional Japanese sweets.

"If I tell you I love watching you eat..."

"Then I'll start on a diet tomorrow."

"If you do," he warned with a glint in his eyes, "I'd have to punish you."

I glared at him. "Just try laying a hand on me—-"

"You can count on it," he purred, "and you'll love every second of it, too. In fact, you'll be begging for more—-"

Yeargh!

My fists clenched.

Don't punch him, Smarter Side of Me pleaded right away. You can't afford to punch him, you know that.

And since that was true, my fists...stayed clenched against my sides.

"You have quite the temper, don't you?"

I refused to answer and made a