The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride (18 page)

`Please,’ she whispered. `Please untie me now.’

He didn’t seem to have heard her. Instead he rocked gently back, and then forwards again, creating a perfect friction between them.

It shouldn’t have been possible, she told herself, but there was no doubting the way her body responded to his magnificent virility.

She’d been loved to satiation, beyond endurance, and yet she tingled with growing anticipation at every slow, silent thrust of his body.

Her eyes widened as she felt it again, the scorching flame of desire.

His movements grew faster, his breath against her skin labored, and she responded, knowing nothing but her love for this man, her need to give him everything. And that shuddering sense of expectation.

And then he was kissing her, and it was the epitome of every romantic fantasy. There was obvious sexuality in that caress, but there was more. She would swear to it. He’d tapped into her very soul with his loving, and now this was far more than the most erotic experience of her life. It was the culmination of all her hopes and dreams. It was the caress of a lover, a soul-mate.

Her hands slid through his glorious hair, gripping the back of his skull so she could give back kiss for breathtaking kiss. His own hands were roving, sliding heavy and possessive over her, before clamping again on her hips as he increased the tempo of their movements. And then she held him in her arms, hands splayed over the febrile heat of his damp skin, feeling the bunching muscles as he pushed them both towards the inevitable fulfillment that awaited.

The moment hovered, just beyond reach, and then, with an abruptness that astounded her, she was caught in a joint conflagration that spiraled far beyond anything that had gone before.

It was only with the hoarse echo of her own name in her ears, with the sudden burden of Rafiq’s full weight on her body as he slumped onto her, that she realized how tightly her fingers dug into the spare flesh of his back.

He’d untied her hands, so she could caress him.

She squeezed her eyes tight shut against the absurd tears that flooded her eyes. She had no idea why she was crying. It was ridiculous, appalling. And utterly unstoppable.

`Shhh,
habibti
. Don’t cry.’ His voice was thick and he wasn’t sure she’d heard. He rolled to his side, wrapping his arms around her, then pulled her on top of him as he lay flat on his back. She sprawled tonelessly above him, her shoulder-length hair splayed across his chest, her legs, smooth and supple, tangled with his. Her hot tears spilled onto his skin and he reached up to stroke her back.

His hand slid down the exquisite curve from her shoulder to her narrow waist, and then traced the flare of her hip. It was bewitching, the feel of her fine-grained skin beneath his palm. He couldn’t believe how a single touch, an attempt to comfort her, could arouse him again-and so soon.

Yet so it was.

Even after that long, passionate sojourn, learning the secrets of her body, reveling in the trust she gave him so freely, it wasn’t enough.

The simple graze of flesh against flesh excited him now as if he’d never had the chance to touch her before.

It’s all right,’ he murmured against her hair. `There’s nothing to cry about.’

She nuzzled his chest and he felt a sharp pang arrow into him. A pang of pure pleasure, he realized with shock. Ì know,’ she mumbled. Ìt doesn’t make any sense.’

He heard another stifled sob and drew her tight against him, whispering soothing words in his own language, rubbing her shoulder with one hand while his other clamped her close.

He felt like a fraud. To all intents and purposes he was comforting her. Yet inside he was reveling in the knowledge that her tears were nothing more nor less than the aftermath of the sensual journey he’d taken her on. He’d lost count of the times she’d climaxed under his touch. Had known he should give in to her hoarse cries to let her go. But selfishness had driven him on.

Selfish pleasure at the unstinting way she responded to each new caress and a wholly self-centered desire to mark his ownership deep in her psyche. To make her so utterly his that there’d be no doubt, ever, in her mind that she belonged to him.

He should have untied her long before. Should have listened to her pleas for release before he tipped her into this emotional state.

He should have. But he wondered if, given the same circumstances again, he’d have the strength to act differently.

She’d been so unstintingly responsive, so much an embodiment of those midnight fantasies that had kept him wakeful every night since he found her. It would have taken far more strength than he possessed to let her be.

He’d tied her hands simply because, if he’d let her touch him again, he wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself. He would have exploded as violently as the fireworks on the night of their wedding. And far, far too soon.

Yet honesty made him admit, at least to himself, that he’d found the act of binding her hands, of having her helpless before him, so sexually stimulating that he’d allowed himself free rein. He hadn’t been content when she’d shuddered in his arms once, even twice. It was as if he’d grown addicted to her hoarse mews of excitement, to the flare of astonished exhilaration in her eyes as he brought her to peak after peak.

He’d fed his own ego with her unbridled responses under the guise of preparing her for his body. True, he’d wondered if she’d experience discomfort when they came together, given her delicate proportions and his own size. He’d been determined to ease the way. But he’d gone too far. He listened to her subsiding sniffs and knew he’d taken far more from her than he’d given.

`Sleep now, Belle. Just sleep.’

He felt her yawn against his bare chest and clamped down on the realization of how very much he wanted to feel her lips on his body.

She snuggled into him, her hair teasing his flesh and her weight unconsciously provocative.

Rafiq gritted his teeth as he realized with mirthless humour how he was paying now for his unfettered lust in seducing her so thoroughly. She was sated, exhausted. And here he was, already eager for her again. Yet even a man so acutely tempted as he couldn’t in conscience impose himself on her again so soon. She needed rest.

He knew he deserved every bit of this torture: holding her so close and not being able to have her.

Belle woke slowly. Her eyes felt gritty and her limbs heavy, as if she’d been swimming for hours. It took so much energy to open her eyes that she gave up the effort, luxuriating instead in the comfort of just lying there, so utterly relaxed.

It took her some time to realize that it wasn’t a bed she lay on. She felt the thrum of a heartbeat under her ear, and, as she moved, the tickle of springy hair under her cheek.

Rafiq! Her head rested on a solid wall of muscle, and pressed against her abdomen lay the hard, flagrant evidence of his arousal.

Her pulse notched up a pace as she remembered all that had happened between them. His deliberate patience and her uncontrolled responses. She’d been like a wild thing, untamed and so blatantly eager for him. Heat washed her cheeks at the memory of her behavior. It was so unlike her. What must he think of her?

She wriggled, wondering if she could slide off him and away before he woke. If she could face Rafiq when she was fully dressed again, it might be easier. Perhaps then she could pretend that he hadn’t stripped her bare of every inhibition, till she’d acted with all the abandon of a sex mad teenager.

Cautiously she slid down his body a fraction. But the movement only made her more aware of his aroused state, and she paused.

`You are awake, Belle.’ His voice was a low rumble that stole her breath.

So much for trying to gather her tattered self-respect unnoticed.

`Yes,’ she said, staring at the muscled bicep that lifted in front of her as he raised his hand to stroke her shoulder. His touch was gentle, unassuming, yet to her horror she felt that tingle in her blood that presaged her own readiness. How could it be?

`You are feeling better for your sleep?’ he asked, and she nodded.

`Yes, thanks.’ She couldn’t bring herself to lift her head and look at him. Not yet.

His large hand swooped down her spine, lingered just above her buttocks and slid up again to her shoulder. Belle felt something dip in her stomach at the movement. Her breath caught as she waited for him to repeat the caress.

And when he did she couldn’t prevent the involuntary press of her body tight in against him.

Of course he noticed. This time both his large hands slid down, inch by slow inch, past her waist to the dip at the small of her back, then lower, to follow the curve of her buttocks with a heavier touch, puffing her infinitesimally closer. Belle bit down on her lip as the movement brought them together intimately.

`Nevertheless, you must be weary,’ he said. Ì shouldn’t have tired you so much.’

She grimaced at the way he skirted around what had happened.

Perhaps he was shocked by the wanton way she’d behaved. She was!

‘I‘11 get some refreshments for you,’ he said, his hands sliding off her.

`No! Not yet, thanks.’ If he moved she wouldn’t be able to avoid his eyes. At least this way, stupid as it was, she had a respite for a few minutes longer.

Às you wish,’ he responded. `But nevertheless I should move.’ ‘In a minute,’ she urged, spreading her hands across his chest as if her paltry strength could stop him.

`Belle This time his voice sounded strained. Ì need to get up.’ He curved his fingers round her chin and tilted her face up so she had no option but to meet his gaze.

She wasn’t sure what, precisely, she’d expected to see in his face.

But it wasn’t the obvious tension in his hard-set jaw, or the disturbing glitter in his eyes. He looked like a man in pain.

`Rafiq? What’s wrong?’

His lips twisted in a semblance of a smile. `Nothing that a little distance wouldn’t cure.’

The throb of his erection against her abdomen saved further explanation. She’d been so busy dwelling on her own weakness for him, it was a relief to see him affected just as badly.

`Distance isn’t the only cure,’ she whispered, and saw his eyes widen in surprise.

Then he shook his head. Òut of the question,’ he said. Ì don’t want to hurt you. You must already be tender.’

But the longing was clear in his eyes. She guessed it must come close to the expression on her own face as he’d loved her so rapaciously a short time ago. She slipped her hand between them and closed her fingers round him. He pulsed in her hold and she heard him gasp, saw him close his eyes.

`There’s no need,’ he said roughly.

Ì disagree,’ she murmured as she pressed a kiss to his heaving chest and pushed herself up. Ì think this is all about need.’

She hoped she could give him at least a fraction of the pleasure he’d given her. The anguished strain on his face as she moved gave her a new boldness, urging her on.

It was the work of a moment to straddle him, positioning herself high above him. His eyes snapped open, his expression a mix of searing anticipation and pained torment that drove her on.

Tentatively she lowered herself, her own eyes widening at the sensation of their slow bonding. There was a wonderful completeness about it a connection between them that was more than physical, she knew. She felt it in every cell of her body, and her heart welled with emotion. Looking down into Rafiq’s darkening eyes, she saw that emotion reflected there.

She opened her mouth, so overcome by the sense of oneness that she longed to blurt out the truth. The fact that she loved this man.

But then Rafiq moved, tilting up against her, bringing their union inconceivably closer, tighter, and the words were lost as the spiral of desire spun out of control once more. His hands on her hips, his mouth on her breast, the slow, purposeful drive of his body in concert with her own instinctive moves, rapidly drew her again into that whirlpool of sensation where thought, much less speech, was impossible.

What had begun as an attempt to bring him release became a mutual delight. Rafiq’s steady hold kept her from increasing the pace in a race to blind fulfillment. Instead it was a deliberate, exquisite experience of shared pleasure.

Each sensation was spun out to the maximum, made more potent by the awareness that it was theirs together. The expression in his eyes as they held hers made her heart sing. Her gasp of delight was echoed in his hoarse breathing. As she trembled on the brink of ecstasy she felt his answering tremors grow to shudders. And then the sudden spasm of her fulfillment was matched by the convulsive bucking of his big body as release shattered his control. She called his name, but the sound was lost in the husky flow of Arabic as he groaned out his pleasure.

He reached for her, pulling her down, and Belle subsided onto his chest, hands splayed over his shoulders. It had been cataclysmic, and she needed the safety of his solid strength to centre herself.

Still her body clenched around him, and she felt the hot pulse of his strength deep inside. This elemental proof of his desire for her gave her a surge of primitive pleasure. She felt exhausted, but powerful, dazzled by the sheer potency of their experience and We didn’t use protection,’ she whispered, suddenly aghast that, in all that had gone before, she hadn’t given it a single thought.

How could she have been so reckless? So utterly absorbed in his lovemaking?

`You have nothing to fear,
habibti
.’ His deep voice was slurred, and she knew an involuntary stab of delight that she’d affected him so. `You stand in no danger of illness.’ He paused. And, knowing you, little one, I cannot believe you are a threat to me, either.’

His hand, warm and soothing, stroked her back in a long, languorous movement. She felt herself relax, despite her concerns.

She nodded. `You’re right. But I’m not using birth control.’ It was unlikely she’d conceive so early in her cycle, but the possibility couldn’t be ignored. She felt a frisson of emotion, and wondered if it was fear or something else.

There was deep satisfaction in his voice as he replied. `We’re married, Belle. It is natural that we should make children together.’. His words hung in the air as his hand, heavily deliberate, slowly circled the curve of her hip.