Page 49 of Her Irresistible Sheik
The past several months had led to this.Every humiliating setback, every late notice, every moment spent talking to ghosts and sleeping with a gun beside her head had brought her to this broken sidewalk, staring at the building where he slept.
And she would not walk away without vengeance.
Chapter 29
Nahla was in love.
She hated to admit it—mostly because she was absolutely, ridiculously,completelyin love.And being in love with a man like Mikail felt like breaking every one of her own rules.Every moment with him was unexpected, an exploration of contradictions.They ate every meal together, talking and laughing about everything from world affairs to how she decided what to photograph.
If someone had told her when they first met that Mikail—the intense, brooding man with the perpetually furrowed brow—was capable of laughter, she would’ve assumed they’d hit their head on something hard.
But laugh he did.
And when he laughed, it was deep and rich, like chocolate laced with bourbon.He didn’t just chuckle—heroared, head thrown back, eyes crinkling, and it made her feel like she’d discovered a rare treasure every time she made him do it.
In bed?He was magic.Wicked, clever,infuriatingly talentedmagic.Every night was a new chapter in their personal erotic adventure novel—complete with cliffhangers, suspense, and plot twists that left her breathless and grinning.
Touching him was an addiction.Exploring him, a privilege.He did the same to her—teaching her that seduction wasn’t just about lust, but also laughter, teasing, and the art of anticipation.
And he was nothing like she’d expected.Mikail wasn’t a grouchy control freak—well,not entirely.He was focused.A man juggling five political crises while helping plan a charity gala and still remembering how she liked her tea.His brain was a wonderland of strategy, compassion, and dry wit.He was sexy in that maddening, “I’ve already solved the problem, but I’ll let you figure it out on your own” kind of way.
Was this all love-colored lenses?Maybe.But Nahla didn’t care.
Because Mikaillistenedto her.Argued with her.Debated in full paragraphs and then—gasp!—sometimeschanged his mindwhen she made a good point.
Some nights, they didn’t argue at all.They just curled up on the sofa with books, sipping after-dinner drinks like the world’s most sensual book club of two.
She discovered Mikail had a secret love for space exploration and devoured science fiction like it was air.He also endured economic theory, devoured historical epics, and loathed paranormal fiction with the intensity of a man who’d been personally wronged by a werewolf.
Meanwhile, Nahla would die on the vampire hill.Shifters, witches, banshees—she adored them all.She’d tried to convert him to the Church of Paranormal Romance, even argued that a vampire duke could absolutely be a metaphor for capitalist repression.Mikail was unimpressed.
Still, they read together.And sometimes, that turned into their own little battleground.
Like tonight.
She’d just finished her latest novel and reached for the next one in the stack, a thick tome with a silver cover that practicallyscreamedintrigue.
Her fingers were millimeters from the spine when Mikail leaned over andsnatched it.
“Mine,” he declared with a smug kiss to her neck.
“Iwasreaching for that one!”she cried, laughing as he plopped down on the sofa like a smug cat who’d just stolen her favorite sunspot.
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” he replied, flipping the book open with exaggerated flair.
“Brute strength won’t win you that book,” she muttered, stalking behind him.
“Oh?”he asked, not looking up.
With a devilish smile, she slid her hands down his chest, then leaned in andnipped his earlobe.His grip on the book loosened immediately.
“Unfair advantage!”he barked, but she was already gone—book in hand, running.
Startled guards outside the library stiffened as she bolted past, laughing wildly.But Mikail was right behind her, his longer stride and mock-growly determination closing the distance fast.
He didn’t even bother reclaiming the book.Hescoopedher up mid-run like a caveman in tailored slacks.
“Mikail!”she squealed, still giggling.
