Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Have fun? What the hell did that mean? Surely they weren’t going to… fuck, right?
“Aw, he’s adorable,” Salma said. “I absolutely insist that he come inside. That’s not up to you, Zain. I can invite into my house whoever I want.”
“Not him,” Zain said curtly. “If I say he stays put, he stays put.”
Aiden’s stomach squirmed.
Salma gave Zain a strange look. “You’re acting bizarre, darling.” She added something in Arabic, her tone partly bewildered, partly amused.
All she got in response was a flat look from Zain. She said something again, which prompted a terse answer, irritation coming off Zain in tangible waves. After a moment, he looked at Aiden. “Wait for me in the helicopter. I won’t be long.” He allowed Salma to lead him toward the house.
Aiden followed them with his eyes, an odd feeling settling in his stomach. His gaze shifted to Salma’s slim, manicured fingers on Zain’s bicep. Were they lovers? She certainly acted very familiar with him.
Aiden imagined them in bed together, both of them tall and long limbed, Zain’s muscular form on top of her soft, pliant body, his muscles flexing as he thrust hard into—
Right.
Aiden looked away, his cheeks warm and his borrowed pants suddenly tight. It weirded him out. He wasn’t really the type to fantasize about real people having sex. It had never been his thing. He had no idea why he’d just so vividly imagined Zain and Salma having sex. She was an attractive woman, but she was twice his age, for fuck’s sake. It was a little weird. Scratch that, it was a lot weird.
And why the hell was he doing as Zain said? He might have agreed to cooperate, but he wasn’t Zain’s slave. Zain didn’t fucking own him.
Decision made, Aiden strode toward the house the couple had disappeared into. The bungalow’s door wasn’t locked. He pushed it open quietly.
There was soft, relaxing music playing in the room. The lights were dimmed, adding to the atmosphere of intimacy and relaxation.
Zain was sprawled in the armchair. Salma was behind him, her hands on his neck. She was massaging Zain’s neck and shoulders, speaking softly in Arabic. Her voice was low, kind, and friendly. Her touch was very familiar, like she’d done this hundreds of times.
Aiden watched the scene from the doorway, mesmerized by what he was seeing. He’d never seen Zain look so relaxed. He always seemed to carry a certain tension with him, a tightly coiled energy, as if he was about to spring into action. This time the tension was absent.
Zain’s eyes were heavy-lidded and soon enough they closed completely as her fingers moved into his dark hair, massaging his scalp. It looked…
Salma said something, and Zain murmured what sounded like assent. Her slim fingers unbuttoned his thobe and helped Zain shrug out of it, leaving him bare-chested, smooth skin rippling over his muscles as he settled back into the chair.
When Aiden dragged his eyes up, he met Salma’s gaze. There was something like curiosity in her eyes. “Your boy is here, darling,” she said in English, her fingers still working their magic.
Zain’s eyelids lifted. Dark eyes stared at Aiden with an expression he couldn’t quite place.
Aiden suddenly felt like he was the one half-naked and vulnerable.
“I’m not his boy,” Aiden said belatedly. “Don’t call me that.”
“Well, pardon me for not choosing a more appropriate word,” Salma said with an amused smile. “I would have, if Zain bothered to introduce you instead of treating you like his possession.”
Aiden’s stomach clenched, and the feeling got worse when he looked back into Zain’s eyes.
“You were ordered to stay put,” Zain said, tension returning to his body. The muscles of his arms flexed slightly, as if he made an aborted move to get up but thought better of it.
“I’m not a thing to be ordered about,” Aiden said. “I’m not going to wait for you like a good little boy while you get massaged and pampered like a king. Let’s go. We have places to be.”
Salma laughed. “Oh, this is priceless! I like him, Zain. You need more people around you who don’t put up with your bossy ways.”
Throwing her an annoyed look, Zain got to his feet, all smooth grace and tightly restrained energy. He quickly got dressed, his eyes fixed on Aiden in a manner that was slightly unnerving. Slightly.
Saying something in Arabic over his shoulder, Zain strode forward and settled a heavy hand on Aiden’s back. “Walk.”
Aiden walked.
They walked in silence to the helicopter. Aiden resented the arrogant, proprietary way Zain’s hand felt on his back, and his insides were twisted up into a tight knot that was part-anticipation, part-trepidation, and part-glee. It might be fucked-up, but he was… pleased that he’d spoiled Zain’s fun with his woman, and he didn’t even mind all that much that Zain was going to punish him for that—and for his disobedience. It was worth it. Annoying and inconveniencing that dick was worth anything.