The Sheikh's Fantasy Girl - Completed.

Chapter Six

Talk about swoon-worthy, as they charged back in, across the large area towards the back wall, where he removed a remote and pressed a button. The wall slid back on both sides, revealing a built-in stereo system, with another button he flicked through a list of music that showed up on a digital screen. 

Another push and music floated through the room from concealed speakers, perfect for dancing. 

Slow seductive music.

"What no rock and roll? Disco? Rap?"

"Not for dancing," he noted dryly. "Shall we?" He opened his arm up in invitation into the more open area of the spacious room that she looked around.

"Here or out there?" She asked, pointing out towards the deck.

"Let's see how good you are first; we don't want you dancing over the edge."

Her eyes widened. "No, we can't have you going over, can we? Also depends if you had lessons and mine are from high school, getting ready for a leavers dinner. Missed mine," she confessed.

"Let me guess, hiding away in your room, writing."

"At sixteen?" She asked, bottom lip sucked in.

He eyed her closely. "You were not?" He challenged. "What age were you when you started writing?"

"Fifteen, after reading my first romance book. It captured my soul. I had found my interest and gobbled up everything I could and wrote out my own fantasies."

"Yes, we can see that with your sheikhs."

"Oh, no, they came a lot later," she confessed. "Much later."

"Really?"

She looked up at him, searching. "You sound disappointed Shihab?"

"I am, you have broken my heart. I was hoping you have been waiting for me all your life."

"Shihab," she gasped, shocked, then smiled. "Wish I had." In some ways she had. "Let's see your moves. I hope you're not all talk and no action."

He growled deep in his throat, taking her into the middle of the room, where he guided her around to face him, placing her hand on his shoulder, putting proper distance between them. Clasping her other hand in his, while his other hand was firmly placed on her waist. 

"A waltz starts with a basic step of one, two, three steps." He showed her and then moved with her, following his steps while watching, counting in her mind. "Head up," she looked up, lost count and tripped over her own feet, laughing, falling against him.

Shihab steadied her. "Good thing we weren't on deck." He gathered her closer to him, so he had more control as they moved once again.

"Oh, sorry," she squealed as she squashed his foot. She glanced up under her lashes apologetically. "I don't know if this is such a good idea."

"Perhaps we can try something different."

"Like what? I know," she pulled out of his arms and started doing the chicken dance. Wings flapping, hands talking, and swung around, confronting a crossed-arm man, shaking his head in disbelief. She stopped. "You don't know the chicken dance?" She asked innocently.

"I do not, thank goodness. Shall we continue?"

"You do need the proper music," she noted, trying to keep a straight face at the utter repulsion on his face.

"There is chicken dancing music?" He asked, astonished.

She nodded and then frowned. "I don't suppose you would have that in your collection," she pointed behind her, only to cry out when he swung her back into his arms and just swayed to the music. She clasped his arms to steady herself.