The Sheikh’s Captive American (Zahkim Sheikhs #1)

Sheikh Tarek of Zahkim doesn’t believe in superstitions or hunches, so when an old woman tells him an angel will fall from the sky and save him and his tiny kingdom, he ignores such a prophecy—until Tess Angel crashes into his life. Literally. Now he’s struggling with an attraction to this very modern woman—but her life is worlds away from his own. There’s no chance of a future for them, but in the present moment, he can’t keep his hands off her.

After her jet crashes, Tess Angel is stuck in Zahkim with a gorgeous sheikh, and she has a hunch they could be soulmates. But this sheikh keeps telling her he’s a rational man who doesn’t believe in true love, and while his grandmother is scheming to keep Tess in Zahkim, Sheikh Tarek seems willing to let her go on her way. Can she convince him there’s more to this world than facts and numbers—and that true love can overcome any obstacles?

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Excerpt

Again, he swept her up in his arms.

A shock ran through her, and she frowned at him. “This is getting to be a habit with you.”

Instead of answering—or putting her down—he carried her into the bedroom and settled her sitting upright on the king-size bed. Light streamed in from the sitting room, enough for her to see that the bedroom copied the sea-green color scheme. She started to rub her neck again, but Tarek pulled her hand away and put his own to work massaging her knotted muscles.

She couldn’t help it—closing her eyes, she let out a groan. “Oh, yeah. Right there.”

His beard brushed her cheek. “Lie back.”

Eyes opening, she stared at him. Those eyes of his really were amazing. Tawny like a lion’s eyes, the pupils so huge right now she felt she could get lost in their depths. Heat flashed over her skin and left her breathing shallow. She’d never been the type to jump into bed with any man, but something about this guy was getting under her skin.

She lay back, but Tarek rolled her onto her stomach and put those strong hands and fingers of his on her back.

She gave another moan and muttered, “You missed your calling. You could make a fortune in a massage parlor.”

He gave a low laugh. “I already have a fortune.”

She hummed. Her tunic had bunched at her waist, and his fingers brushed her bare skin. That did it. She wanted him. She needed that soul-baring connection to someone living and vibrant. She hadn’t died, and it was time to celebrate that.

Rolling over, she sat up. Tarek didn’t move from where he sat on the edge of her bed. She put a hand on his shoulder, on all that good muscle that had started draining the last fears and tension out of her.

“Stay?” She made it a question. She was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to order a sheikh around.