The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride (17 page)

`Rafiq! Please.’ She squirmed beneath him.

`Do I hurt you, Belle?’ Already his touch had altered, his palm slipping flat across her skin.

`No, you don’t hurt. I just..

Her words died as she registered his predatory smile. His head lowered till his lips caressed her with tiny kisses. When he moved to suckle at her breast she couldn’t contain the jolt of delight that made her stiffen beneath him. It was so much, so wonderful. But not enough. She wrapped her arms round his shoulders, tilted her hips towards him. He was propped beside and above her and she needed his weight on her now.

Her hands grew urgent as his teased and pleasured her. Did he have any idea what sort of torture this was?

Oh, yes, she decided, remembering the glint of powerful knowledge in his eyes. He knew and reveled in her need for him.

Here she was, helpless and yearning, wild for his touch, laying her heart as well as her body open for him, just as she’d feared she would if she lost:. the strength to resist him. But somehow, now it had happened, now she had given in to her feelings, she couldn’t regret it. Not when he was taking her to paradise. She’d craved him incessantly and it had been only fear holding her back. A fear he had banished with a single touch.

She slid her hands down to his shirt and managed to slip a couple of buttons undone, to feel the raw heat of his bare flesh against her fingers before he moved again.

`Soon,’ he said, and she saw the slumberous promise in his eyes.

`But not yet.’

She almost cried out her protest, but then he was undoing her trousers with quick, decisive movements, stripping the last of her clothes away so she lay naked and trembling before him.

There was a flash of something fierce and untamed in his face as he surveyed her, spread out before him like some waiting harem slave. His eyes burned and the planes of his face grew more pronounced, as if tension pared his features to their stark, elemental beauty.

In that instant Belle knew fear, and something else, some-thing stronger. Triumph. His need for her was blatant in the rigid control she read in his face and in the taut, dangerous lines of his broad shoulders and clenched fists.

And suddenly she didn’t feel vulnerable any more. Lying naked before him wasn’t embarrassing or demeaning. It was liberating, intoxicating. The balance of power between them had shifted, and she reveled in the knowledge that he was frozen still with the effort of control. She could seduce as well as be seduced.

`Rafiq,’ she whispered, surprised at the throaty, knowing sound of her voice. `Won’t you touch me?’

She watched him swallow down hard. He shuddered. His knuckles whitened.

Belle smiled, confident that in this at least they were equals. He might not love her, but his body craved hers just as badly as hers did his.

Slowly she reached up to the traditional headdress he’d worn for the desert ride. She fumbled, and he lifted a hand to untuck one end of the long piece of linen. She took it from him and smiled, a trembling curve of the lips, as she unwound the scarf. Her eyes locked with his but she could read nothing there now; they were too closely shuttered.

At last the cloth came away in her hands and she let it drop, absorbed instead by the swing of shining black hair that fell about his shoulders. Fleetingly she wondered how it could so enhance his hard masculinity.

Then she dropped her hands to his shirt, swiftly dispensing with the buttons till she’d bared enough to be able to slip her hands in against his firm chest, luxuriating in the heat of his skin against hers, the teasing rasp of his chest hair against her fingers.

Rafiq tore open the rest of the buttons in a single ruthless movement, and she sighed, sliding her hands round his torso and nestling against him. His heartbeat was a thunderous tattoo beneath her ear. His chest rose and fell against her with every deep breath he drew. His scent, hot musk, settled around her, and the silk of his unbound hair caressed her face.

So many sensations. But not enough. She craved more. She needed everything from him.

Her tongue flicked out so she could taste the hot, salty essence of him. She pressed open mouthed kisses across his pectoral muscle, finding and nuzzling his taut nipple as her hand strayed lower, following the trail of narrowing dark hair that led down his abdomen. From deep inside his chest came a low, thrumming vibration. She felt more than heard the untamed growl as she reached for the fastening on his trousers.

Then, in a surge of powerful movement, she found herself thrust back against the bed, pinioned by his uncompromising weight. He grabbed her hands in one of his and slammed them back, over her head, onto the silk covers.

`Rafiq?’ Belle loved the feel of him over her, pushing against her, but the move had startled her.

`You must not touch me.’ His voice was a hoarse throb, barely recognizable. His eyes glittered feverishly as he stared down at her.

Not touch him? She frowned. Was this some weird royal protocol she’d breached? She shook her head in confusion.

`Belle-‘ He stopped and closed his eyes. The only sign of his agitation was the iron hard tension in his body and the way his chest heaved.

`Belle,’ he said again, and she heard raw pain in his deep voice. Ì

cannot let you touch me. Not yet. Not if you want to be loved instead of ravaged.’

Excitement pulsed through her, fast and heavy, as she absorbed his words. The idea of being ravaged by him sounded magnificent.

`Rafiq, I- What are you doing?’ She stared as he eased her hands lower and dragged the end of his abandoned headscarf across them.

His thumb stroked tenderly along the fading scar on her wrist and he frowned. `Does it still hurt?’

She shook her head. Her scars had healed well, and soon, she hoped, there’d be no visible sign they’d existed.

He nodded, and carefully looped the soft cotton around both wrists, binding them together.

Belle’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t mean to…?

Sensing her outraged confusion, he paused and looked down at her.

`Do you trust me, Belle?’ The words were softly spoken, but she read the taut stillness in his body as he waited for her response.

For an aching moment the shadow of terror skittered through her, with the memory of her abductors closing rusty manacles around her wrists. But fear dissolved at the sight of Rafiq, the man she loved, painfully tense, his jaw locked in a savage attempt at control, his fingers shaking as he cupped her hands in his. Did she trust him?

She felt her smile spread slowly, inexorably, across her face as she realized just how completely she trusted him. Despite her denials, she’d given him not only her body, but her heart, her whole self, with their marriage.

Ì trust you, Rafiq.’

She saw him shudder in relief. `Belle.’ His thumb brushed her lips, caressed her cheek and throat. She turned her head and pressed a kiss against his palm.

`Please, Rafiq. Love me.’

Something wonderful, bright and exultant, flared in his eyes as they held hers. She felt a burgeoning sense of expectation, and more, of emotional connection.

His mouth lowered to hers in a fleeting, tempting brush of lips and he murmured, `You honor me, Belle.’

Then he shifted his weight and stretched above her, so that her world narrowed to the wall of his chest, centimeters above her, the weight of his legs covering her and the heady scent of him.

There was a gentle tug on her wrists as he drew them back, over her head, and towards the tent pole behind the sleeping platform.

For an instant doubt gnawed at her. How had she agreed to something that left her so much at his mercy?

But then Rafiq slid back down her body and her every nerve clamored for more. His mouth lowered to hers in a slow, lingering kiss that re-ignited her craving for fulfillment. It was the sort of kiss she’d dreamed about, a lover’s kiss that touched her heart as much as her physical senses. If. she hadn’t known it was impossible she’d be tempted to think Rafiq reciprocated her love.

The idea made her head swim. Or perhaps it was the sheer sensual expertise of his kiss.

And as his tongue slid into her mouth, taking possession, he shifted his weight to one side, keeping his muscled thigh across hers. His hand skimmed the sensitive flesh of her neck, her breasts, her waist, brushing to the curve of her hips. She craved his touch, needing so much more than this gentle, gliding caress. She twisted beneath him, only the tie anchoring her hands preventing her from reaching out to pull him closer.

When his hand slid across the juncture of her thighs she felt a jolt of white hot energy stab through her.

But he didn’t break the kiss, simply plunged deeper into her mouth as his fingers brushed across that most sensitive point again, and she jerked beneath him, her whole body humming with expectation. His knee nudged at her legs, parting them, so that when he touched her intimately again she was wide open to his teasing caress.

She moaned, yanked at her bonds, desperate for release. This wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted Rafiq. She wanted…

`Rafiq!’ Her cry was one of astonished urgency. He lifted his head to watch her as, with one last delicate touch, he sent her soaring into explosive climax. Turbulent, molten heat surged through her as her whole body juddered in the aftershocks of that single, intense, pulsing moment.

And through it all his gaze held hers, watching as she gasped for breath, as her face flooded with heat and her eyes widened in shock.

She should have felt embarrassed, exposed. But the heated intensity in his eyes, the slow, infinitesimal curve of his lips so close to hers held her in thrall.

`You are beautiful, little tigress,’ he murmured, and she felt his breath as a caress across her lips. `So responsive and vibrant.’ He ducked his head and nipped at her lower lip with his teeth.

It was as if he’d found a new, untapped erogenous zone. Her response was immediate a sudden, impossible zap of lightning awareness that stiffened her body and snagged her breath.

`Let me go, Rafiq.’ She tried to catch his mouth with hers, but he pulled back just enough that she couldn’t reach him. `Please,’ she gasped. Ì need you.’

Ànd you shall have me, Belle. All in good time.’ But instead of reaching up to wrench open the knot binding her hands to the tent pole he moved lower, to suckle at her breast.

Her breath stopped at the sight of him there, one large, tanned hand on her pale skin, thumb teasing her nipple, his lips closing over her other breast. And the feel of him. The moist caress of his mouth, the sensual slide of his hair over her aroused body and the weight of him, all heavy muscle and masculine hardness, centered over her, pushing her down into the bedding.

Ùntie me,’ she urged through dry lips.

His green eyes glinted with sensual purpose as he took her nipple between his teeth and gently tugged.

`Rafiq!’ She was on fire again, aching for more than this teasing.

Frantic, she pulled on the cloth tying her hands, but it only seemed to draw tighter with each movement.

`Shh,
habibti
.’ His voice was like velvet, brushing across her raw nerves. `Don’t fight it. I’ll release you soon, very soon,’ he whispered as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive under side of her breast.

But Rafiq’s definition of soon was vastly different from hers.

Instead of loosing the bonds that kept her from reciprocating his touch, he seemed to revel in his complete freedom to touch, taste, caress her bare body. He had no compunction in using his uncompromising weight and his strength to hold her still beneath him as be investigated every centimeter of her.

Yet it wasn’t a clinical survey of her body. Oh, no. It was an erotic voyage of discovery. For Rafiq as he nuzzled and licked and stroked. And for Belle, as she learned how shockingly responsive she was to him. Never before had she experienced such exquisite sensuality, nor responded so wantonly, so completely to a man. He brought her to trembling ecstasy time and again, giving even as he took such obvious pleasure in her.

And through all the delicious torture of his loving she read the fierce light of possession in his eyes. He was branding her with his touch, searing her senses with the sight and smell and taste of him, till she knew nothing else. Enslaving her body just as, Unknowingly, he’d captured her heart.

The tremors were subsiding at last from her limbs, to be replaced with a luscious, weightless feeling. She glowed, lit from within by an incandescent sense of wellbeing. Her eyes drifted shut and she stretched slowly, luxuriously, aware for the first time that Rafiq had moved and she could shift her legs across the soft silk of the coverlet. The cushioned bedding invited slumber, and Belle felt the last of the tension ease from her body as she sank deeper into welcoming oblivion.

Soft, warm darkness. Soothing, slow, caressing heat. She smiled dreamily and shifted into a more comfortable position. It was only as he gripped her hips that Belle realized this was no dream. The heat was Rafiq’s, and he had lowered his naked body over hers.

Her eyes popped open, widening as he shifted his weight and she felt the searing length of his erection press down against her belly.

He felt impossibly large, frighteningly potent as he pushed forward. Yet her hips rose automatically to meet him, and she felt that tiny spark stir again, deep inside.

Rafiq’s gaze locked with hers. He didn’t smile, didn’t speak. His eyes had a glazed look, as if he focused inwards. She read iron hard control in the muscles that strained in his neck and shoulders.

And then, with a single, slow, unstoppable movement, he eased down into her till she was pinioned against him.

She risked a deep breath, aware of muscles stretching impossibly to accommodate him, wary of moving. She’d wanted this so badly, wanted Rafiq as she’d never wanted before. And now she wasn’t sure this would work. Then he shifted his weight and pulled her legs higher, easing the tension a fraction, sliding even deeper.

His head dipped to graze a kiss along her neck, and she heard his voice, husky and breathless, murmuring words she couldn’t understand. The thread of inevitable tension tugged through her as he kissed her, making her squirm. Immediately she felt his responsive quiver of anticipation, and reveled in the sensation.