She angled herself over him and sank down, down, down onto the iron thickness of his cock. Yes. Yes. This is what she wanted. Piper dug her fingertips into his skin. It was like the first night they’d slept together, only it was so much more. Only she was pregnant with his child and every sensation was heightened. He filled her more than he had, stretched her more, and her toes curled at the way the head of him made contact with all the places inside of her that made more pleasure build and build until it pulled her under.

  Camil watched her come. His eyes on her skin were so intimate, and he was so patient, gritting his teeth and holding himself back until she shook the last waves out and circled her hips around him again. She rocked harder into him, more pressure, more pressure, until he was bucking into her, his control gone. Camil came with a low cry that she felt all the way to the center of her.

  She rolled off him, panting, and curled tight to his side.

  He put his arms around her.

  When she’d caught her breath, a sensation came over the room that was unlike anything she’d felt with him before. A real curiosity, and the confidence to explore it. “Tell me something about you from childhood.”

  Camil didn’t laugh it off or dismiss it. “My father read to me long after I could read myself. Perhaps until I was ten or so. I think he just liked to do it, and I liked it too, so even though I was reading on my own, he still came to my room every night.”

  “Mine too,” Piper said. “He kept reading and reading, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop. And it was the only time—”

  “The only time you were guaranteed with him?”

  “Yes.” She traced her fingertips over his bare chest, marveling at the muscles there.

  “I won’t be like that with our son. I can’t—” A deep breath. “I can’t promise to put all business aside all the time, but I want more time with him during the day than twenty minutes before he falls asleep. It’s not enough.”

  “Let’s both spend that time with him before he falls asleep,” she suggested. “Let’s spend that time together with our boy. We can both read to him as a family.”

  “It’s a plan.”

  “Tell me something else,” she said, closing her eyes.

  And he did. Camil told her stories about growing up in the palace. About causing mild mischief among the staff and how his father had been firm but kind and more than once he’d caught the man grinning when he thought Camil couldn’t see him. He told her how much he missed his mother. He never heard from her, now that she lived in the US, and it was clear to him as an adult that she didn’t want a relationship. He’d accepted that they would only ever have emails between them and little else.

  Piper told him how hard it had been to witness her father leave her mother, but harder still to see the way he treated her after the divorce. She admitted she wasn’t sure if she wanted him to meet their son, but she also believed in second chances. In the redeeming power of love. The fairy tale in her, she joked. She told him how she liked her mother’s house in Philadelphia, but she missed the block they’d lived on in Pittsburgh. She told him how she loved traveling alone—she never had to worry about another person making her late for a flight—but she couldn’t wait to travel everywhere with him.

  And their son.

  They talked until her eyes burned. They talked until sleep crept in. “I love you,” she said as she drifted off.

  “I love you,” she heard him say. “More than anything. More than everything.”

  15

  Piper was a human blimp.

  That’s how she felt three months later as Camil helped her out of the car at the desert palace: a human blimp. She had another month to go before they welcomed their son, and honestly, she couldn’t fathom how it could go on so long.

  “Oof,” she said as she took Camil’s arm. “I won’t mind if he arrives a bit early.”

  “Not too early.” Camil put a protective hand on her belly, a wry smile on his face. “But if he did, it might compel my father to relax for once.”

  When Jal had learned that Camil would have a son, he had been overjoyed. And he had also immediately begun planning his retirement. The farewell ceremony and Camil’s coronation were scheduled for a few weeks after Piper’s due date. He was driving them all crazy with his planning and babyproofing. Piper had never expected to see the sheikh installing outlet covers, but there he was. In every room. Constantly adding to his list of things to do. So when Camil had suggested a getaway for the weekend, she had eagerly agreed.

  The front of the palace was a hive of activity. Crews of artisans had turned the foyer into a construction zone, and Camil put a hand on the small of her back as they moved through. Two sets of double doors later, the racket faded, and they were in the private apartment wing.

  “Oh, Camil,” she said. “It’s gorgeous.”

  This was the first time she’d seen the completed space, and even the hallway was lovely. The original floors had been restored, the patterns in the wood repaired and polished, and each tiled mural on the walls had been lovingly cleaned, any chipped tiles painstakingly replaced. It felt like walking into the past. It felt like walking into peace.

  Camil opened another set of double doors and led her into a wide sitting room. “The antique furniture wasn’t very comfortable,” he told her. “It’s being preserved in the museum in the city, and I had the replicas slightly altered.”

  Piper sank down onto a reclining couch, and her entire body sighed with relief. “Yes, you did.”

  From the vantage point of the couch, she took in the spacious living room. White gauzy curtains hung down in front of the windows, swaying in the breeze, and all the space filled her with joy. Camil had had the living room decorated with strategically placed rugs and plants as accents.

  Camil came and took her hand. “There’s more, if you’d like to see it.”

  “Yes, let’s have the tour,” Piper said. Camil helped her ease up from the couch and offered her his arm.

  Together, they went through to the massive master bedroom. It was actually a suite, and Camil led them past the canopy bed and down a hallway. He paused outside a door. “That hall across the way leads to the en suite, the same as it did before, with updated plumbing and new tiling on all the walls. But this—” He opened the door. “This is for you.”

  It was an office.

  A deep blue rug decorated the center of the floor, and a desk of dark wood perched underneath a wide window overlooking the gardens. She could see a fountain, and one wall was taken up with a bookshelf, where—

  “My books,” Piper breathed, tears in her eyes.

  “So you can write.” Camil rubbed soothing circles on her lower back. “I want you to have all the space you need.”

  “I only have a few chapters left.” She dabbed at her eyes and went to run her fingertips over the edge of the desk. “I’m so close.”

  “I know it. I can’t wait to read the finished manuscript.”

  It was a different book than Piper had set out to write. Over the past few months, it had turned into more of a memoir—some of Camil’s great-grandparents’ story, some of their own story, and some life lessons to be gleaned from both—but she hadn’t had the chance to finish it. There had been a lavish baby shower to plan and attend. It had been the fanciest event Piper had ever attended, and she was the guest of honor. Her mother had flown in. They’d introduced her to Camil’s father, which had been…interesting.

  “Spend some time,” Camil said. “I need to speak with the architect while you write, and I’ll join you for dinner.”

  Piper went to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Nothing sounded better than a stretch of time in a quiet room with no interruptions, just her and her book. “Thank you,” she told him. “I love you.”

  “And I love you.” He bent to kiss the side of her neck and left with a grin that promised wicked things later. He did that because she loved the flirtation, even if she was too tired at the end of some days to do anything but fall into bed.

  Piper had not left the office when Camil returned several hours later. He could hear her typing from out in the hall. Her fingers flew over the keys, not missing a beat, not stopping as he approached.

  She didn’t hear him as he came level with the door and looked in.

  Camil would never see anything more beautiful than his wife.

  Her red traveling dress swept down over the chair, and her blonde hair gleamed in the light streaming through the window. She’d gathered it up on top of her head, and he was taken with her. Taken with the gorgeous curve of her shoulder to her neck. Taken with the fine locks twisted into a bun that was somehow elegant and casual. Taken with her focus. She had devoted every spare moment to finishing her book, and it hadn’t been enough time. He knew how that was. Being royalty tended to take up all the available space.

  His heart squeezed. Piper had been incredibly graceful about all of it. About the demands on her time, and the public appearances, and the way the country was watching her pregnancy. He wished he could give her a month in the palace. Maybe he would insist on it.

  “Is the baby hungry?”

  Her head lifted at the sound of his voice, and he could tell she was smiling before she turned around and stood, closing her laptop at the same time. He could not help but smile at her rounded belly. He couldn’t wait to meet his son, of course, but pregnancy looked wonderful on Piper. Camil hadn’t told her that he wanted to see this again. Maybe a third time, too, if she wanted more babies. It would be up to her, but if she gave him the chance to see her like this a second time—

  An incredible gift.

  “I’m hungry,” Piper said, and she came to ask his arm. He led her to their private terrace, where he’d had a table set up for them, and dinner. “You love these dinners for two,” she said as she took her seat.

  “I love you,” he said. “And the dinners. I think I’ll keep it up forever.”

  “I accept your invitation,” she answered with a laugh.

  She told him about her chapters as they ate. The sun began to set, painting the sky in desert reds and oranges. Piper lifted the final spoonful of vanilla ice cream to her mouth. She’d been craving it for the last few months of her pregnancy, and it never seemed to get old to her. He followed the line of her throat as she tipped her head back. “That is so good,” she whispered.

  Now.

  While she had her eyes closed, he pulled out the ring box that he’d kept in the inner pocket of his suit jacket for weeks. Piper opened her eyes, and her mouth went round at the sight of the box, at his eyes on hers. “Camil, are you—”

  “I never imagined falling in love.” As he spoke, the sun sank below the horizon and the colors burned into a deep purple. “I thought love was a fantasy that could never be obtained, but you showed me how wrong I was. I love how passionate you are, and how passionate you inspire me to be. I love that you love Al-Fahr as much as I do. I love that when I take over as sheikh, I’ll do so with the best partner I could ever imagine by my side.”

  He got out of his seat, went down on one knee, and opened the box.

  “Marry me, Piper. For the right reasons this time.”

  She burst into happy tears, laughing and crying at the same time, and tossed herself out of her seat. Piper barreled into him with such force that he almost fell over, catching both of them at the same moment. She kissed him through her tears. “Yes, yes, yes. Yes. I will. For the right reasons this time.”

  He kissed the love of his life under a desert sky, with the history of love all around them and the future waiting like the rising sun.

  End of Sheikh’s Pregnant American

  Sheikhs Pact Book Two

  Sheikh’s False Fiancée, 7 October 2021

  Sheikh’s Pregnant American, 14 October 2021

  Sheikh’s Pretend Engagement, 21 October 2021

  PS: Do you love hot blooded Sheikhs? Then keep reading for exclusive extracts from Sheikh’s Pretend Engagement, Sheikh’s Surprise Son and The Sheikh’s Pregnant Lover.

  Thank you!

  Thank you so much for purchasing my book. It’s hard for me to put into words how much I appreciate my readers. If you enjoyed this book, please remember to leave a review. Reviews are crucial for an author’s success and I would greatly appreciate it if you took the time to review the book. I love hearing from you!

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  About Leslie

  Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.

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  BLURB

  This smoldering Sheikh needs a scandal…

  Sheikh Faidh Qadir needs to create a scandal—something so shocking that the senior council will declare him unfit to rule. It’s either that or marry a woman of the council’s choosing and remain Sheikh for life—the two things he wants least in the world.

  When Faidh learns that Mina, the palace’s new pastry apprentice, is in his country illegally, he makes her a deal. Pretend to be his fiancée, help him create a scandal, and he’ll make sure her exiled father is pardoned for his crimes. It’s a simple arrangement. But the feelings she stirs in his heart are more complex than he could have imagined…

  Mina Parks cannot believe she just agreed to a fake engagement. Faidh says the council will never accept Mina because her father is a notorious spy, and they’ll remove him from the throne. But first they need to convince everyone that they’re truly in love. Maybe all those public embraces and staged kisses were a little too convincing. Because Mina quickly starts to believe the fairy tale herself…

  Are these two falling head over heels for real? Or is it all a cruel deception…

  Grab your copy of Sheikh’s Pretend Engagement

  Available October 21 2021

  Available for pre-order now! www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

  EXCERPT

  Chapter One

  Faidh stepped into the kitchen, and his presence caused chaos.

  The staff closest to the doors rushed to follow protocol, bowing over the food they were preparing. Then they were back up, two of them hurrying away to warn the others. It was like a small electrical fire had walked through the door instead of the sheikh of Nouzar. To be sure, the chaos was controlled—the kitchen was too tight a ship to be completely disrupted by his arrival—but it was chaos, nonetheless.

  The volume in the room rose. He would find all the frantic scurrying offensive, honestly, if it hadn’t been literally years since he’d last visited the kitchen. When he was a boy, he’d made frequent visits to sneak treats, but his boyhood had ended long ago.

  Today he was not interested in food. He was on a different kind of mission.

  The kitchen in the palace could more accurately be called kitchens. There was the large main room, and Faidh steered himself past the prep table. At the back was a smaller kitchen dedicated to baking. This was where all the pastries and cakes and rolls for the palace were created. Faidh was in search of one of the women who prepared them.

  Mina Parks, the apprentice pastry chef.

  She might be his golden ticket out of a problem that had been nagging him all his adult life. Faidh did not want to be the sheikh.

  He had been born for it. Trained for it. But Faidh had never wanted the role, and he’d never imagined he’d have to take it on at the age of eighteen. But when he was sixteen, his parents had died in an accident involving their motorcade. He’d had only two years to finish his preparations. His older sister Meher had served as regent until the day he came of age, and then he’d been installed.

  She had been excellent in the role. She had a passion for leadership and a real heart for being the sheikha. But the traditional laws of the land had not permitted her to stay on. It had to be Faidh, the male heir. They would all be better off if he could hand the job off to her—and the only way that could happen was if the council deemed him unfit.

  Naturally, getting oneself out of being the sheikh was more difficult than being born into the royal family by chance.

  Mina Parks didn’t know it yet, but she was the perfect solution.

  He found her at the prep table in the center of the smaller kitchen, her hands working at a batch of phyllo dough. He had seen her in the photo from her visa paperwork.