ROMANCE: Sleeping With The Sheikh (Billionaire Alpha Male Sheikh Romance) (New Adult Forbidden Series Short Stories) Read Free Page A

not what he wanted, but perhaps love would grow. Perhaps he would learn to care for her in a way beyond that of how a man desires a woman.
    Perhaps affection would come, too.
    He took her to his bed that night and enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh, thrusting into her willing body until he spilled himself inside her, praying strangely enough that he would plant no seed in her womb that night.
    And when they finished, they washed—separately—and then he allowed her to sleep. But sleep did not come to the prince. He lay awake with Djamila at his side, curled up and facing away from him. Her body was warm, but he felt no connection there.
    Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t lie there awake listening to the gentle breathing of his new wife, thinking over what they had done, what would be expected of them now, and how his life in so many ways simply was not his for the taking. He left his bed, careful not to wake his new wife, and threw on a robe. He walked the halls for a while until he came upon the large balcony that overlooked the gardens. There he paused, looking up into the dark night sky speckled with stars and the light of the moon.
    He watched those stars twinkling like mischievous eyes winking in the night and wondered if he might ever love his wife. She was lovely and she satisfied his more carnal cravings, but there was a part of him that yearned for more. A part of him where it simply was not enough to marry for propriety’s sake or for the sake of an entire country—though he had and he would not disobey his father, the Sheikh. He craved the love of a woman, not born out of necessity or status or an arrangement made by their fathers as they sipped wine and talked of politics.
    Was it so much to ask for a woman who might escort him through this life as a partner of both the mind and the heart?
    Perhaps it was. Perhaps it was foolish to even dream of such things, but he did. And when he was done he shook his head and sighed, trying to remind himself that it was not Djamila’s fault that they were married any more than it was his fault.
    “I wish that I might love my wife,” he told the sky and the stars in it. Then he considered it and frowned. Shaking his head, he amended, “I wish that I might want to love my wife.”
    But he thought it was a silly, childish thing to wish for and did not think for a moment that it might come to pass. Love was too elusive to find it through the needs of a country and though he trusted his father in many things—in most things, even—he did not trust his judgment in this.

Chapter Three
    Clarice was dressed in the nicest thing she owned. It was new, a long deep blue dress with slivers of cubic zirconia in it that made the dress shimmer and sparkle as she walked. The material was form fitting at the top, hugging her carefully carved curves, her large breasts and her slender waist. When it reached her hips, it dropped down in a loose line that hinted at her legs without exposing them. On her feet were tall stiletto heels that were designed to make sure she wouldn’t be taller than her husband—which meant no larger than three inches, and that was cutting it close.
    Her whole outfit had been designed with Donald in mind. The deep blue color which would hint at her eyes and his alike. The lower heels which would mean they could stand together without looking awkward. And even the jewelry. She picked the necklace with its snowflake like design, the diamonds—real diamonds—so large that she was sure it must have cost a fortune, though she had never bothered to ask. It was a present to her, the first one Donald had ever given to her.
    All of this was supposed to look perfect with Donald and his graying golden hair, his blue eyes, and his shorter stature.
    And now, it was completely pointless.
    “You’ve already committed!” she half shouted at him. Clarice was working hard to keep calm, but his blasé attitude was driving her up the wall. This wasn’t