The Sheikh's Captive Mistress by Jessica Brooke, Ella Brooke Page B

don’t want to admit defeat when you are surely defeated by a girl, I get it.”
    “No, I-”
    She grinned and dug her heels into Jabir’s side. “Look first one to complete three circuits wins. The deal is if I lose, I tell you anything about me you want.”
    “What if you win?” Munir asked. “Not that I’m saying it is possible because clearly I will school you, but what would you get, habbibi ?”
    “Quid pro quo. I get to know more about you,” she said, before clucking and sending Jabir racing underneath her. “Oh and we already started.”
    ***
     
    Munir dug his heels into his steed’s side and tightened up on the reins Crouching low into a gallop, he urged his horse forward, catching up neck and neck with Emma as they made their first pass through the ring. It was exhilarating. Once he’d started working hard to repair his kingdom’s tattered peace with America, he’d had no time for himself, no opportunity to do the things he loved. The wind whipping through his hair and the thrill of making a tight turn on such a quick animal were firing up his veins.
    But not nearly as much as the sight of his wild habbibi . His dear one was pulling ahead of him on the straightaway of the second lap, her breasts bobbing in her shirt as she leaned into the horse’s pace. The hair poking out from her helmet was floating outwards all over the wind, and he was struck seeing her wild like that. She reminded him of a goddess come to life, of Diana with her hunt or Kali in all her raw power.
    Still, no matter how the view of her enticed him and made his cock throb with pleasure, there was no way he was going to lose a race. After all, he hadn’t since he was a child.
    Digging in harder, he slapped his crop against his horse’s flank, “Yah, on Madeira.”
    The horse kicked up fast into a gallop that made his teeth chatter as they bounded together over the sands. They were coming into the final stretch on the third circle and Emma clicked her tongue loudly and curled in tightly against the wind. Jabir, the star of his father’s stable, poured on his speed, leaving him and Madeira both in the dust.
    His beloved was already smirking at him, her blue eyes twinkling impishly when he stopped and dismantled next to her. Both of their horses were tied to the nearest posts, and he followed her, unsure of what she was going to ask him. Scared, too. He was trying to be as honest as he could with her and, while he’d read her deeply, seen so much of her through his files and surveillance, Munir was scared to let her see him. Did she see what Father did? Would she recognize the scared boy he felt he was, pretending at being sheikh?
    Oh, Allah, let her never see through him, down to the fraud he must be as he tried to assume his father’s throne.
    “You got so quiet,” Emma said, her voice calm and kind. “I think I beat you by a couple seconds at best. Besides, I’ve never ridden a horse like Jabir. He’s the fastest I’ve been on by far, it's like being glued onto a rocket.”
    He grinned, proud of his steed’s accomplishments. He’d ridden Jabir in the last race he’d ever done for his family and cleaned the clock of the best riders of Omai doing it. “That’s true, but I’m happy for you. You are a revelation when you ride.”
    “Then what’s wrong?” she asked, biting her lower lip.
    “What’s wrong is that I don’t know if I should trust you to ask me anything.”
    “Well you already know so much about me. I bet your surveillance knows my favorite breakfast cereal and what brand of socks I like.”
    “We do, but that doesn’t tell me anything about you. It was only hints about your fiery soul, a glimpse into your past or a shade of your ambition,” he replied, helping her slide off her helmet. Reaching up, he stroked her hair. It was so beautiful, like spun gold. It was the first thing about her he’d fallen for. She was just so different from the harem, from any woman he’d ever met, really. “A