The Chatsfield Collection Books 1-8

He frowned, inexplicable anger coursing through him. “Do not use such language to describe yourself. It is not seemly.”

“Neither was offering to pay me off if I’d change my last name.”

“They did that?” It boggled his mind.

Aaliyah nodded, an expression of deep vulnerability coming over her features he was fairly certain she was not aware was there. “No matter what Mom hoped, they were never going to accept me into the family. She is buried in the family plot. I won’t be.”

“It is their loss.”

“I keep telling myself that, but you know? Sometimes it’s hard to believe.”

“Believe it.”

“They’re not alone. I am and I don’t like it.” She covered her mouth and stared suspiciously at him, as if he’d drawn the admission out of her rather than her offering it unasked for.

“No one should be abandoned by their family.”

She tried to put on an insouciant expression that fell far short, but he wouldn’t tell her so. He found he enjoyed seeing what he was sure others did not.

The true Aaliyah Amari.

“It happens.” She shrugged and this time her glass tipped enough to spill its nearly full contents down the front of Aaliyah’s inexpensive black suit jacket.

She didn’t even jump, just looked down at the water-soaked jacket. “Oops.”

“You are all wet.”

“I am.” She cocked her head to one side as if studying him and finally said, “You could offer to get a towel.”

“Should I?”

Instead of answering, Aaliyah unbuttoned the front and started shrugging the black fabric off her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his body tightening in a familiar way.

“Don’t worry, I’m wearing a blouse underneath, but if I don’t get this off, that will be soaked, too.”

Once she removed her jacket, Sayed couldn’t hold back his gasp. She’d been too late. The white cotton was wet and clinging to the skin of her torso and the lace-covered curves of her breasts.

Aaliyah looked down and made a moue of distaste his mother would have been proud of, then she giggled. “Too late.”

“My very thought.”

“I guess I’d better take this off, too.”

His conscience demanded he discourage her from that particular course of action, but he refused to listen, watching in lustful fascination as she removed her uniform tie and then the soggy blouse.

Her lacy bra was surprisingly revealing.

“You like pretty lingerie,” he said with a blatant shock that would have indicated the ouzo had already hit his system to anyone who knew him.

Sayed was not blatant. He was subtle. Especially in delicate situations like this one.

Aaliyah nodded. “Why shouldn’t I? I have to dress conservatively for the job, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be as feminine as I like underneath.”

“Your uniform does not mask your womanliness.”

“Are you sure?” she asked very seriously. “I always thought it did.”

Very decisive, he shook his head. “No.”

“This isn’t very modest, is it?” she asked in that way that said her brain was catching up to her actions.

“It is all right,” he heard himself say.

“You would say that. You’re a man.”

“I am.” Despite what many thought, he was indeed a flesh-and-blood male.

“Well, I know what to do.” She nodded with exaggerated movement.

Expecting her to put her damp jacket back on, he sat blinking in lust-ridden surprise as she lifted her hands to fiddle with her hair at the back of her head.

A moment later long, black, silky waves of hair cascaded down over her shoulders and breasts. She arranged it so the wavy strands created a black silk blanket over the tempting mounds of flesh of her breasts.

“There.” She smiled with satisfaction, clearly proud of herself.

“You believe that is more modest?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last word in a way it had not done in more than twenty years.

She looked down, as if trying to figure out why he would ask. “It covers the important bits.”

“It does.” In a way guaranteed to send his libido into overdrive.

She poured herself another glass of water, managing to do so without spilling any of the liquid. Though it was a close thing.

Taking a sip, she gave him a look of expectation.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s your turn.”

“To spill on myself. I do not think so.”

“You don’t have to spill your drink, but you’re supposed to take off your outer robe and stuff.”

“I am?” Had he fallen through the rabbit hole and not realized it?

“It’s only fair.”

That made surprising sense.

He stood up, a little startled at how difficult that simple act had been. “It is called an abaya.”

“I know.”

He let it slide from his shoulders, laying it over the back of the sofa.

“The gold around the collar with burgundy embroidery means you’re a big mucky-muck in Zeena Sahra,” Aaliyah said sagely.

“Yes.”

“So does your egal. I think you should take it off.”

“Why?” He never removed his keffiyah and egal in front of strangers.

The head covering and triple-banded braided cord that bespoke his position as prince were as much a part of him as his close-cropped beard.

“I think you could do with a few hours of not being emir.”

Aaliyah’s words resonating through him, he stared at her. “I think you are right.”

Isn’t that what he’d decided himself not minutes ago?

She nodded, her hair shifting to reveal glimpses of honey-colored flesh he had a near-irresistible urge to taste. The reasons for resisting were melting away with other inhibitions that came with his place of state.

“My current thoughts are definitely not appropriate for an emir,” he admitted.

“So, take it off.”

“Removing my egal won’t take away my role.”

“We’ll pretend it does.”

The idea was very appealing. He gave in and pulled off both the head covering and egal holding it in place.

“Now the suit jacket,” she instructed.

“Are you trying to get me naked?”

“I don’t think so?”

“You don’t sound very sure.” And looked adorably confused by the idea.

CHAPTER FIVE

AALIYAH’S BROWS DREW together in thought. “You’re supposed to be even with me.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“Yes, it does.” She nodded, her head only wobbling a little, her expression all too serious.

There was something flawed in her logic, but he couldn’t identify what just then.

Besides, he liked the idea of stripping away another layer of the trappings that separated him from this woman. It was as satisfying as removing the egal and keffiyeh, letting go of his position for just a few hours in the privacy of the hotel suite.

Inexplicably, his fingers shook as he stripped out of his hand-tailored jacket, burgundy silk tie and gray pinstriped dress shirt.

Aaliyah didn’t seem to notice, her eyes eating him up in a very flattering way. After the hours spent building his muscles while honing fighting skills passed down for generations in his family, he had no false modesty.

But the way she looked at him was not simply that of a woman attracted to his fit body; it was more intense than that.

She watched him with a powerful hunger more honest than any expression he’d seen on a lover’s face.

She made a soft sound that went straight to his groin. “Your hair is too short to cover any skin.”

“You do not sound bothered by that fact.”

She shook her head.

“Perhaps you have noticed, but there is already hair on my chest,” he pointed out.

Taking after his ancestors, it wasn’t too plentiful, but enough he did not look like a boy.

“Yes.” She audibly swallowed. “Your nipples are hard.”

“I bet yours are, too.” And lusciously tempting.

“They are,” she breathed out.

He had to swallow a groan. “Drink more water. I’m having another ouzo.” It tasted about a hundred proof and he rarely drank, but she wasn’t outdoing him.

They both slammed their drinks back. Funnily enough, she choke-coughed on her water. His ouzo had gone down smooth as glass.

They sat in silent contemplation for long seconds.

“You wanted me,” she said, her expression thoughtful. “That day in the elevator.”

As if he needed reminding of when that might have been. He didn’t because the desire had not left him since the first moment he’d seen Aaliyah.

“Yes,” he said when it appeared she was waiting for him to reply in some way.

He still did. Intensely. Even painfully.

His sex was harder than any muscle in his body right now—and he had abs of rock that could withstand blow after blow from a sparring partner.

“I’ve never had sex in an elevator,” she admitted like it was a deep, dark—even shameful—secret.

“I haven’t, either.”

“Oh.”

“I am not certain it’s as common an occurrence as romance movies would have us believe.”

“You watch romantic comedies?” she asked.

He shrugged. “My mother enjoys them. My father and I usually defer to her when we have an opportunity to watch a movie as a family.”

“That’s sweet.”

He was unaccustomed to being thought of as sweet and did not want to dwell on it. “Gene Chatsfield would have been very angry if there’d been evidence of sex that day, I believe.”

“He was mad enough,” she said dismissively.

“You don’t sound too worried about that.”

“I’m not.” Her lovely features twisted in a scowl. “I’m leaving the Chatsfield.”

He would have asked why, but Sayed’s mouth went dry as she shifted to put her water glass down on the coffee table. Her hair fell away, exposing one breast. The dark nipple under champagne-colored lace as hard and delicious looking as he’d imagined it to be.

He cleared his throat and poured another glass of ouzo. “Three years is a very long time.”

“Yes?” She blinked at him in more charming confusion.

“Yes.” He tossed back the shot and put the glass down. “Without sex. It is a very long time.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“No?” She was sexually active? That was a good thing, considering the things he was thinking about doing.

“Nope.” She hiccupped, covered her mouth and then laughed. “Sorry about that.”

He shook his head, his focus on her seminudity, not her hiccups. “It is nothing.”

“So, you’re saying you’ve gone without sex for three years?” Her voice was laced with both disbelief and shock.

“I have.” And considering Tahira’s recent actions, he seriously doubted his ex-fiancée could say the same.

Aaliyah gave him a probing look. “Are you telling me the truth?”

“Why would I lie?” he asked with more genuine curiosity than offense, though he was unused to having his words questioned.

“Because you’re hoping to talk me into bed?”

“I do not need to go for the sympathy vote to get a woman into my bed.”

“No, you probably don’t.” She looked him over in a manner that was both innocent and lascivious.

He flexed his chest muscles for her and groaned when her beautiful green eyes grew dark and bottomless with desire as she inhaled sharply. “You probably have loads of women panting after you.”

“I would not know. I spend very little time with single women these days.” His own honor mocked him in ways he’d never share with another.

“Why?”

“I was a betrothed man.”

“Oh.” She smiled, appearing very happy with some thought she was having. “You really are one of those guys.”

“What guys?”

“The ones who know how to be faithful, even before marriage.”

“I am not perfect, but once Tahira came of age and our engagement was made official, it would have been wrong to continue having lovers.”

“You never considered having sex with her...in three years? She never offered?”

“No.”

“That’s, um...”

“Proper.”

Her full lips turned down in a frown. “Not what I was thinking.”

“Pathetic?” Deluded of him? Sad?

He did not think that anything could cool his ardor, but the prospect that she pitied him proved extremely effective. He did not need pity sex, nor would his pride allow him to accept it, no matter how much he wanted her.

“I’m pretty sure pathetic is never a word anyone would use to describe you. I was going to say maybe you should have taken that as a warning.”

Just like that, the craving was back, his sex pressing against the confinement of his trousers.

“Warning?” he asked, not understanding.

“Presumably, she was just as happy to remain celibate.”

“At least with me, yes.”

“So, neither of you were sexually attracted to each other?”

“It would appear not.”

“You didn’t think that was a problem?”

“Marriages among those in position are not made for the same reasons as in your world.”

“Elitist much?”

He shrugged. He would not deny it. “Our worlds are barely in the same solar system.”

“Wow. It’s really true, in vino veritas. Although that’s ouzo you’re drinking, not wine.”

“I assure you, I do not need spirits to tell the truth.”

“Are you really that arrogant?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Of course. Our worlds are too far apart for us to communicate.” Her voice was laced with unmistakable sarcasm.

His wasn’t when he said, “Right now, we’re in the same space.”

It was kind of amazing, really. That he would be alone in a place of privacy with this woman who was a maid, but whom he wanted more than he had any woman in his memory.

Her head tipped slightly and she looked up at him in unconscious sensuality. “We are, aren’t we?”

“It is a moment out of time.”

She laughed out loud. “Arrogant and cheesy. Why do I still want to kiss you?”

He did not understand what she found so amusing. This was a moment that would never be repeated, could never be repeated. Yet he was grateful that destiny had written their meeting—here in this room that would never see his ex-betrothed—into their stars.

“Why shouldn’t you want to kiss me?” he asked, certain he wanted it enough for both of them but aware that if she didn’t he would do nothing about his own desires.

That damnable honor again.

“You think you are too good for me.”

“No.” He was shocked. “I did not say this.”

“What about the whole different-worlds thing?” she asked, sounding hurt.

Which had never been his intention. “That is reality, not a judgment on either of our values as human beings. There are emirs in neighboring countries I would prefer never to have to interact with again.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“And me?”

“It would be my great delight to be able to spend more time with you,” he said with more honesty than he ever offered.

“But?”

“But an emir cannot have even a temporary relationship with a hotel maid. Life is not a fairy tale.” No matter how much he might wish otherwise.

“And you are certainly no Prince Charming.”

The fact she apparently found him lacking bothered him, but he did not understand why it should. “No, I have never pretended to be anything but a man.”

“Who is prince of his people.”

“Exactly.”

She looked at him strangely. “You really don’t mean to be arrogant, do you?”

“No.”

“You are, though. Just in case you ever wondered.”

He found himself laughing. “Duly noted.”

“You’re not offended.”

“Why should I be?”

“Because the opinion of a mere hotel maid doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Of course your viewpoint is important.” More important than he wanted to admit.

“You sound like a politician.”

“I am a politician.” Though not one that could be voted out of office.

Diplomacy was nevertheless very important in his life. He wasn’t being diplomatic with her, however. He meant his words. For reasons he could not identify, her opinion mattered.

“You’re very sexy for a politician.” She sounded surprised by that fact.

Or perhaps it was her own admission of it.

Unable to bank the hunger any longer, he leaned forward. “I am glad you think so.”

“You’re going to kiss me,” she whispered as his mouth was centimeters from hers.

He didn’t bother to give a verbal reply, but pressed his mouth to hers. At first, she acted like she didn’t know what to do, but then her lips softened and she let them mold to his.

And he understood her initial reticence. She’d said she didn’t do one-night stands; naturally, she would have reservations about what was about to happen between them.

With great reluctance, he pulled his lips from hers. “We cannot have more than one night,” he felt compelled to point out one last time.

He was still a man of honor, no matter how inconvenient.

* * *

Liyah had to process Sayed’s words and what they meant before she could reply. “I know.”

He’d made their short-term incompatibility perfectly clear. And she didn’t care. She’d spent her entire life listening to her mother preach against easy familiarity with men.

Liyah had not dated in high school and only rarely in college, but she’d never allowed anything beyond simple kisses. She’d maintained her virtue on behalf of Hena Amari, to prove something that was forever denied her.

Her daughter’s worthiness to be recognized by the Amari family.

She would never know that acceptance, but she was worthy to carry the Amari name. More worthy than those who would turn their back on Hena because her love for her child was too great to let Liyah go.

Liyah had remained chaste to prove to them all, but most especially Hena, that her mother had raised her better than any of them could have. Proving something to a woman who was irrevocably gone from Liyah’s life, or people who simply did not matter, seemed beyond ridiculous.

Even to her alcohol-addled brain.

She had an entire life of being alone to look forward to. For this night, she would experience intimacy she’d always denied herself and might never know again.

No matter how melodramatic she told herself the sentiment was, Liyah had the distinct feeling no other man after this one would ever suffice.

Was love at first sight real, or was this just lust?

Liyah did not know, but the feelings she had for this arrogant sheikh went beyond anything she’d ever experienced.

She’d always thought her mother had been doing some kind of penance in never dating or seeking out another relationship, but maybe it was even simpler. Maybe Hena Amari had never stopped loving Gene Chatsfield.

And he hadn’t even remembered what she looked like, much less her name.

Pushing those disturbing thoughts away, Liyah focused entirely on the man before her, the one whose kiss had touched her more deeply than she thought possible.

Sayed breathed against her lips, the soft puffs of air brushing them in a gentle caress. “I want to kiss you again.”

She sighed softly. “I’d like that.” A lot.

He didn’t ask again, but put his desires into action, this time placing one hand behind her head. She found the control inherent in the action entirely in line with the man’s nature.

What surprised her was how much she enjoyed it. She liked the way he helped her angle her head for the best connection, but she burned with the way his mouth felt against hers.

It was amazing and sent more sparks of unfamiliar need along her nerve endings. She wanted so much more than just a simple kiss. Not that this kiss felt simple. Decadent, delicious and completely addictive—his lips were lethal to her restraint.

One kiss melted into another until she realized what he wanted as his tongue slid along her lips pressing gently at the seam of her mouth. Liyah let him in and shuddered as the intimacy of their connection went to a whole new level.

He tasted like licorice and...another person. Liyah had never had a man’s tongue slide along her own, had never experienced this level of familiarity with another person’s mouth.

It was erotic in a way she never would have expected, making her want more. More of what, she wasn’t sure.

But definitely more.

He cupped her breast and then she knew. She wanted more of that.

The thin layer of her bra might as well not even be there. Everywhere his hand had contact tingled, sending bursts of bliss arcing through her.

Warm masculine fingers caressed her, kneading her curve and brushing across her nipple. Her entire body went rigid at the electric jolts going directly from her aching peak to the core of her being.

Was this normal? Could ecstasy be this easy to achieve?

All the women’s magazines made it sound a lot more complicated.

He gently pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his tongue playing a mating dance with her mouth she’d never known but recognized nevertheless.

And she realized what she was feeling wasn’t the ultimate in ecstasy. Because it kept building. One pleasure on top of another. Every sensation more intense than the last, her entire body heating as her blood rushed.

If this wasn’t a climax, she wasn’t entirely sure she was going to survive one.

But, oh, she was willing to try.

Sayed broke the kiss, the sound of their panting breaths loud to her ears. “Are you certain you want this?”

She nodded, unable to get a single word out.

“You understand, tomorrow I am again the emir of Zeena Sahra.”

“But tonight you are just a man,” she reminded him in a desire-laden whisper.

“Yes.” The sound was closer to a growl than a word.

He kissed her again, this time his mouth devouring hers, his hold on her head implacably keeping her lips right where he wanted them. His aggressive passion might have frightened her but for the gentle way he continued to knead her breast and rasp her nipple.

Putting off a lifetime of restraint, she reached out to do some of her own sensual exploration. His skin was hot against her fingertips and smoother than she expected. The black curls of hair on his chest were also surprisingly silky, his small male nipples ridged.

There was nothing soft about the layers of muscle bunching under her touch, though.

Chest, biceps and abdomen cut with defined muscles.

His body was so different than hers.

Sure, there was the male/female thing. But it was so much more than that.

Wearing the egal, or not, Sayed exuded power. He would always be alpha, never the beta. His physical and mental strength was awe-inspiring and in this moment those traits inspired her arousal, as well.

So focused on experiencing his body, she didn’t notice his hands moving at first.

But when he unclipped her bra with a single efficient movement and peeled the lace-and-silky fabric away from her body, she couldn’t ignore that.

Her already-hard peaks pebbled tighter at the direct exposure to air. She’d felt that hundreds of times in her life, when she undressed for bed.

What she’d never felt was the corresponding throb between her legs she experienced now. Or this new need to be touched there.

A desire she could only express with wordless whimpers and the tilting of her pelvis in a wanton display that should have mortified her.

It didn’t.

His big hands slid around her sides and up her rib cage, leaving prickles of arousal in their wake until he cradled both her breasts.

“Lovely.” Approval laced his tone. “A truly sweet handful.”

“You have big hands. So hot,” she rambled.

It was only when his rich laughter washed over her that Liyah realized how her words could be taken.

“I didn’t mean to say I’m...that’s not...”

He brushed his lips over hers. “Shh. You are perfect. We will leave it at that.”

She had no chance to reply as his thumbs swiped over her electrified nipples. She’d thought the thin barrier of silk had made no difference in how these caresses felt, but she’d been wrong. Very, very wrong.

While the sensation of emptiness and need grew in her core, the rest of Liyah’s body grew increasingly sensitive. Heat washing over in wave after wave of unadulterated lust, her skin ached for his touch in a way she hadn’t even known was possible.

He seemed to understand, because his caresses moved on from her breasts to brush over her stomach, along her sides and right up to her underarms. Usually ticklish, the only response this unexpected touch elicited was gasping shivers and a hope he would not stop.

Inundated by sensations so intense she couldn’t hope to distinguish one from the other, she moaned long and low.

His hands tightened into a hold on her waist, his fingers squeezing and releasing in quick succession. “You are so responsive.”

“You make me feel.” Liyah had spent her entire life hiding behind a buttoned-down facade which allowed for almost no emotion.

Feelings were dangerous.

But she’d found an inexplicable, if temporary, safety in this man’s arms.

He kissed along the underside of her jaw, teasing her skin with the edge of his teeth and sending shivers cascading along her nerve endings. “You are far more intoxicating than the ouzo.”

“You, too.” She wished she could be more eloquent, but Liyah had no experience in this kind of talk and had no response but bare honesty.

He didn’t seem to mind her lack of dramatic articulation as he intensified the sensual onslaught of his hands and mouth on her body.