by Annie West
‘Nor do I.’
He slid his free hand between them, feeling her lush wetness, the hungry pulse of her body as he probed, hearing her swift intake of breath. A second later his hand was beneath her bottom, tilting her towards him as he bore down in one long, steady push that left him centred within her.
Sweat broke out at his nape and his brow. Muscles seized as the full reality of their joining penetrated his brain.
He had waited so long for her. Since that night in the desert he’d taken no lover, telling himself he was too busy. Now he understood with a flash of terrible insight that he hadn’t wanted any woman but this one.
The realisation took a millisecond—less time than it took to draw breath. Yet it rocketed through him like the rush of a desert sandstorm, blanketing all thought.
Then primitive instinct took over.
Ashraf’s mouth went to her breast, drawing hard, making her cry out and wrap her legs around his waist, rising against him in hungry desperation. A desperation that matched his own.
He erupted in a storm of movement. He withdrew and thrust harder, deeper than before, setting up a rhythm that matched the hammer beat of blood in his ears and the rough syncopation of their breathing.
It seemed only seconds before he felt the first fluttery tremors deep in her body. Setting his jaw and stiffening his arms, he tried to withstand the drag of delicious sensation as her climax shuddered through her. But the expression in those eyes locked on his, the sound of her desperate gasps, even the way she clutched him, as if he were the only solid point in a swirling universe, amplified the ecstasy he felt as she convulsed into orgasm.
‘Ash! Ash, please!’
It was too late. Her pleasure became his. The clench of her muscles blasted him off the edge and into an oblivion so deep he knew nothing but the pleasure-pain of rapture.
When his senses returned he was trembling all over like a newborn foal. His pounding heart filled his ears and his strength was gone, leaving him plastered across her pliant body.
‘Victoria...’ It was a silent gasp against the fragrant skin of her throat. There was nothing else except this woman and the aftershocks of explosive passion racking a body he was sure would never move again.
She filled his every sense. He nuzzled her throat, needing even now to be connected to her. And then the hands grabbing his shoulders slid down his back. Her arms wrapped tight around his middle as if she, too, needed to be as near as possible.
She planted a kiss on his shoulder and he felt her lips curve. ‘Thank you, Ash.’
With a superhuman effort he lifted his head. Forget-me-not eyes met his. They were heavy-lidded and she wore a dreamy smile. This was how he wanted her—sexy, warm and biddable. And the way she used the shortened form of his name pointed to another barrier smashing down between them.
Ashraf’s mouth tilted up in an answering smile. ‘Thank you, habibti.’
They might be together because of the child she’d borne, but he knew in the very marrow of his bones that this was the right thing.
His hold on her tightened.
His woman. Soon to be his wife.
CHAPTER TEN
TORI SIGHED AS pleasure trickled through her. The bed was soft, she’d had the best sleep she could remember and, half-awake, she sensed all was well with the world.
It took her a few moments to realise that the delightful sensation that had roused her was a trailing caress. The brush of fingers across naked skin.
Naked skin.
For a moment her dulled brain couldn’t compute that till, in a flurry of excitement, memories swamped her.
Ashraf, even more potent and magnificent in the flesh than in her dreams, powering into her with a single-minded focus that had been almost as arousing as the feel of his hard body.
He’d been strong yet tender, urgent yet considerate. She trembled, recalling how his body had made hers sing. How his touch had reduced her defences to rubble. How the pleasure had gone on and on and—
‘Ash!’
Her eyes popped open as that wandering hand strayed across her breast, pausing to circle in ever-diminishing rings towards her eager nipple.
Dark eyes held hers—eyes that danced with devilry and hunger. By the pearly light filling the room she knew it was very early morning and she felt a fillip of delight that Oliver had slept through, leaving her and Ashraf uninterrupted. Soon, she guessed, he’d wake...
Then Ashraf pinched her nipple and her thoughts shattered. Tori all but rose off the bed as arousal shot through her. His leg across hers held her down and even that, she discovered, excited her.
Mouth dry, she licked her lips. His eyes followed the movement. At his throat a tiny pulse flickered hard and the tendons at the base of his neck pulled taut.
Tori breathed in sharply, excited by his arousal. It was a heady thing, discovering she had power over this man she found impossible to resist.
‘Good morning, Victoria.’
Even the way he said her name—her full name, that no one but her father used—tugged at unseen cords in her belly. She used the name Tori partly because its less feminine sound fitted her work environment, but mainly because she hated how her father expressed his disapproval by drawing out the syllables.
Now, on Ashraf’s tongue, her name sounded sensual and inviting.
‘Good morning, Ashraf.’
His hand slid down to circle her navel and feather her belly, drawing a shiver from her and an eager softening of muscles. Her legs quivered.
‘Last night it was Ash.’
‘Was it?’ She remembered, but pretended not to. Because last night he’d flattened every barrier between them.
When they made love it was as if time ripped away and she was with Ash again, the vital, viscerally exciting man she’d known in the desert. The man who tried to protect her, who’d given her the gift of his support when she’d been terrified. Rather than Ashraf, the man whose intentions worried her, despite his attempts to allay her concerns. For nothing could take away the fact that he was supreme ruler in this foreign land and that he wanted her to relinquish her freedom and everything she knew.
If he knew the full extent of his power over her...
She shivered.
His hand paused just inches away from the apex of her thighs and, despite her worrying thoughts, Tori felt the sharp bite of frustration. No matter her concerns for the future, she needed more.
Tori pressed her palm down on the back of his hand, holding it against trembling skin.
Their eyes clashed.
‘Why did you stop? You want me to call you Ash?’
Broad shoulders shrugged above her. ‘Call me whatever you like.’
Yet he made no move to complete what he had been doing just moments before.
An ache set up inside her, deep in that hollow place he’d filled last night. And in her chest, as if her heart or lungs were bruised.
Tori shook her head, bemused by her imaginings. Yet she wasn’t imagining the bone-deep yearning for completion. Or her lover’s waiting stillness as he looked down at her.
Her lover. The words washed through her, and with them a kind of relief. Whether she thought of him as Ash the honourable stranger or Ashraf the determined King, she wanted him.
What more did he want from her?
She’d already proved she was no match for the desire he ignited in her. It was a mere week since he’d come back into her life and she was amazed she’d withstood his allure so long.
Desire made her limbs tremble as she looked up into eyes that beckoned and challenged at the same time.
Tori’s mouth firmed. If he was waiting for her to say she’d changed her mind about marriage he’d have a long wait. Or was it something else he wanted?
She lifted her hand from his and cupped his shoulder, pushing him back. Her pulse a
ccelerated with excitement as he let her, falling back onto the bed.
He lay there, big and bold and utterly still, like a bronzed cat lazily sunning itself in the pale light spilling across the rumpled bed. Yet there was nothing lazy in the eyes that meshed with hers. A frisson ran through her at the invitation she read there.
Shedding any hesitation, Tori rose to straddle powerful thighs. Ashraf was all heavy muscle and heat—incredible heat. His mouth tugged wide in a satisfied smile but otherwise he didn’t move. Until Tori leaned forward to lick to one dark nipple and a tremor ran through his supine body. Hard hands grasped her hips. She licked again, then nipped with her teeth, hearing his breath catch as he lifted beneath her.
This time she took the lead. She brushed kisses across his torso, with its scattering of dark hair, then drew on his other nipple and heard what sounded like a low growl. His fingers tightened on her. Lifting her gaze, she found his eyes locked on her and a thrill of empowerment zigzagged through her.
Levering herself higher, Tori stretched up his body, letting her breasts skim his chest. It felt so good she had to stop and stiffen her wobbly arms.
There was no laziness in Ashraf’s face now. Watching the convulsive movement of his throat as he swallowed, feeling the swell of his arousal beneath her, Tori knew for the first time that he was at her mercy. It was delightful—if short-lived. For then Ashraf lifted his hips, letting her feel the full force of his appetite for her. Tori’s pulse hammered in her throat, her lips firming over a moan of need.
‘Ride me, habibti.’
So much for being the one setting the pace. But how could she object as he urged her up onto her knees? Besides, his voice was more gravel than velvet, and his hands on her hips betrayed his desperation.
Tori knelt above him, dragging out the moment of anticipation, one hand on that broad chest the colour of old gold. Beneath her palm his heart raced. That was what undid her—feeling Ashraf equally at the mercy of their mutual desire.
Closing her other hand around him, watching his hooded eyes, she lowered herself so slowly that the sensation of him rising to complete her seemed to take for ever.
When, finally, she rested fully against him, Tori experienced again that sense of quiet magic. As if time stood still in the presence of something extraordinary.
But it couldn’t last. Already the need to move was unstoppable. Tori rose high, then slid down with an exquisite friction that made everything inside her quiver.
Ashraf’s body was fiery hot, his eyes glittering fiercely as she moved again and again, arching in an instinctive dance against him. She set the pace and every movement took her closer to bliss.
The threads inside her body tightened, pulling into a coiling knot where every feeling converged. Then, without warning, a searing white light engulfed her. Tori heard a threadbare voice in the distance calling for Ash. Felt the sudden, cataclysmic wave of ecstasy and could do nothing but ride it out, her eyes locked on his.
She watched as the wave took him too. And the sight swept her from rapture to oblivion.
All Tori knew was the fire-burst of bliss and Ash—everywhere Ash, within her, around her, below her, his hands anchoring her, his body worshipping her, his rough voice praising her.
She didn’t even remember falling. Just knew, as Ash’s arms roped her to him and she inhaled the familiar cinnamon and spice scent of his skin beneath her cheek, that she never wanted to be anywhere else.
* * *
Ash emerged from the shower in Tori’s suite wearing a mile-wide smile.
Life was good. The afterglow of spectacular sex filled him, but it was more than that. Everything was falling into place. He’d announce their impending marriage at the upcoming royal reception.
Now he’d cleared up Tori’s fears that he’d hidden her and Oliver out of shame all would be well. He’d reassured her that she was free to make her choices and she’d chosen him, coming to him utterly of her own volition.
It was good that they’d had that confrontation. It had clarified things, allayed her doubts. And it had showed him another facet of his future wife. She was a woman who would stand for no insults against her son, a woman who’d defy anyone, even Ashraf, to protect Oliver. The way she’d argued her points, standing toe to toe with him, had aroused his admiration.
And his libido.
He grabbed a towel and rubbed his hair, remembering the spark in his belly as she’d faced him. Even his annoyance at her misconceived doubts hadn’t quenched that.
Nor, he realised as he towelled his body, had a cold shower. Despite his heavy schedule he’d happily have spent another hour in bed with Tori. Only the sound of little Oliver, awake and hungry, had stopped him.
And even that interruption had its positives. Going to Oliver’s room to find his son looking up at him curiously, Ashraf hadn’t felt impatience but a surge of tenderness. Getting to know his child, having a real role in his life, meant everything to him.
Ashraf flung the towel away and dressed, his thoughts returning to Tori.
She was a strong mother. She’d make a superb queen, given time. And they had plenty of that—a lifetime.
Satisfaction warmed him—and the familiar pulse of desire. It was still early. There might be time before his first meeting...
No. He had other priorities. Namely, hearing Tori say she’d changed her mind about their future together.
Quickly combing his hair, he strode back to the bedroom—only to pause in the doorway.
Tori sat in bed while Oliver sucked at her alabaster breast. Lust pierced Ashraf. He recalled the taste of that breast, and the way his mouth on Tori’s sensitive skin had catapulted her from languorous acquiescence to raw desperation. He breathed slowly, savouring the memory, and the peaceful picture of his woman and child.
Early sunlight turned her hair into a gilded angel’s crown. Against the sumptuous coloured silks and satins her pale beauty shimmered like rare, fragile treasure. But her smile as she met his eyes sent a kick to his belly and told him that Tori was a robust, flesh-and-blood woman.
‘I like watching the pair of you.’
The admission surprised him. He hadn’t intended to say it aloud. At the sound of his voice Oliver half turned, then resumed feeding. A curious feeling filled Ashraf. Satisfaction? Excitement? And something bittersweet.
It seemed his son responded to him. That he recognised his father’s voice.
Whose voice had Ashraf known as a child? Only his mother’s, and then only for a short time. Oh, there’d been servants, even some kindly ones, but no adults to whom he was the wellspring of the world.
The only love he’d really known was his brother’s. But Karim had been kept busy by their father, learning all that a future sheikh had to know. He’d had little time to spend with his kid brother, especially since he’d had to sneak time with Ashraf behind their disapproving father’s back.
Ashraf would like Oliver to have a sibling. Several, if Tori agreed. He wanted Oliver to have the things he’d never enjoyed and would never take for granted.
‘How do you feel about large families?’
Tori’s brow furrowed, her smile fading. ‘Why do you ask?’
Ashraf shrugged and walked to the side of the bed. ‘We didn’t used protection last night.’
At the time he’d been too busy exulting in how freely Tori gave herself to him. He hadn’t paused for contraception. After all, they were to marry and he had no objection to more children.
‘We didn’t?’ Her voice struck a discordant note and she suddenly sat straighter, making Oliver grumble. Her brow crinkled. ‘No, we didn’t, did we?’
Ashraf read her concern and understood. For Tori’s sake a longer gap between children would be better. He’d seen her weariness and understood how pregnancy and single motherhood had taken a toll. There was no rush for more children. They had plenty of time.<
br />
‘But they say the chances of getting pregnant are less while you’re breastfeeding.’ It sounded as if she was trying to reassure herself.
Ashraf reached down and touched her leg, stroking satiny skin. ‘You’re probably right.’ Though he knew nothing of such things. ‘And even if there is another baby sooner than we expected we’ll manage together.’
‘Sorry...?’ Her eyes shone large and lustrous. But her expression wasn’t what he expected.
‘Next time you’re pregnant...’ He paused. ‘Whenever that is, you won’t have to manage alone. I’ll be here to support you.’
Ashraf smiled and was surprised when she didn’t reciprocate. Instead her features froze. Abruptly she closed her robe around her and put Oliver against her shoulder. Then she shuffled higher up the bed, sliding her leg away from his hand.
‘There won’t be a next time.’
‘Sorry?’
‘There won’t be another pregnancy.’ Tori paused, her breasts rising on a sharp breath. ‘At least...’ She shook her head. ‘If it ever happens it will be far in the future. If I marry.’
‘If you marry?’ Ashraf saw her tilt her chin high and realised he was on his feet, looking down at her.
She shrugged, but there was nothing easy about the movement. She looked as rigid as he felt.
‘Who knows what the future holds? If, later on, I fall in love, I might consider having another child.’ She paused and glanced down at Oliver, nestled quietly at her shoulder. ‘A brother or sister for Oliver would be nice one day...’ she mused, as if the idea had just struck her.
Ashraf stared, outraged that she was still apparently rejecting him, even after tacitly accepting him last night. Forget tacitly. She’d been blatant in accepting him. Choosing him. Could she have been any more forthright? And that sultry smile she’d given him this morning as she straddled him...
His hands fisted as all his fighting instincts roused.
