Bride Behind The Desert Veil (Mills & Boon Modern) (The Marchetti Dynasty, Book 3)

by Abby Green

‘AND WHAT WE make of them.’

  Liyah took a sip of her wine as she absorbed that comment. This man was altogether too bold and confident, but he’d woken something inside her. Something equally bold. If not as confident.

  ‘Your eyes are green.’

  Liyah looked at him. ‘My mother’s eyes were green.’

  ‘Try the lamb. It’s delicious.’

  Liyah picked up a piece of lamb, along with some of the rice, and popped it into her mouth. The meat practically melted on her tongue and the spices in the rice made her taste buds come alive.

  ‘You know this place well.’

  It wasn’t a question. Liyah swallowed her food and nodded. ‘I’ve always come here. It’s usually empty. It doesn’t serve as a stopping point as it’s so close to the city.’ To the palace. She pushed her mind away from that reminder.

  ‘Your bird is very tame. How old is he?’

  Liyah bit back a smile. ‘She.’

  The man smiled and she nearly fell off her chair. It changed him from being merely stupendously gorgeous to something not of this earth.

  ‘I shouldn’t have presumed.’

  Liyah recovered her wits. ‘She’s been mine since I was a child. I trained her out here in the desert.’

  ‘Does she have a name?’

  Liyah felt self-conscious. No one had ever cared about her bird except for the falconer at the palace. ‘Sheba.’

  ‘Like the Queen? She is a beautiful bird.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘Almost as beautiful as her owner.’

  Liyah’s mouth dried. Her heart thumped. He thought she was beautiful. But she knew that she wasn’t really. She was too tall. Her hair was too wild. She couldn’t fade gracefully into the background like other women. She always stuck out. Which made her think of her time in Europe. Her dark skin and height had marked her out from the start. Making her a target for people who wanted to exploit her for fun.

  Others had told her she was beautiful back then too. And she’d lapped it up, starved of attention and in a new world where she’d felt out of place. But it had been a cruel lie.

  This was a timely reminder. She had no idea who this man was and yet she was lapping up his attention like an eager puppy, having learnt nothing.

  Liyah put down her napkin and went to stand, but the man caught her hand in his. He was frowning.

  ‘Hey, where are you going?’

  ‘I should leave. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

  Liyah pulled her hand free. The man stood up.

  Just before she got to the opening to the tent, he said, ‘Wait. Stop. Please.’

  She didn’t know him, but she sensed that he didn’t say the word please much. It sounded rusty. Unused. She stopped and felt him come close behind her.

  He said, ‘Usually when I compliment a woman she doesn’t run away.’

  Liyah whirled around, incensed. ‘I’m not running away. I’ve just realised that this is...’ She stopped. She didn’t even have words for what this was.

  He supplied one. ‘Crazy?’

  ‘I didn’t come here this evening expecting to find...you.’

  ‘And yet here I am. I wasn’t expecting company either. Far from it.’

  Liyah looked up at him. He was too tall. So broad. He eclipsed everything around him.

  ‘If I wanted to leave now, would you let me?’

  He took a step back, looking almost affronted. ‘Of course. You’re free to go.’ But then his expression changed and he said, ‘If you want to. But I don’t think you do want to...’

  He sounded so sure of himself. Part of Liyah wanted to prove him wrong. She wanted to turn, go outside, pick up her clothes and leave. But a much bigger part of her—the part that had felt little or no compunction about revealing her naked body to him—wanted to stay.

  As if sensing her vacillation, he said, ‘This thing between us...this connection...is not usual. You do know that?’

  Of course she didn’t. She’d believed that she’d wanted a man before—correction, a boy—but what she’d felt then had been nothing remotely like this swooping exhilarating rollercoaster of sensations. Even the food had tasted more delicious than anything she’d ever tasted before.

  Fearing for her very sanity, she almost whispered, ‘Are you actually real?’

  He took a step towards her again and she could smell him, spicy and musky. He took her hand and lifted it up, placed it on his chest, over his heart.

  She felt the strong rhythmic thump-thump under her palm. It sent a veritable tsunami of emotions through her. It was so illicitly intimate, yet reassuring at the same time.

  Her father ran a conservative household. He didn’t approve of displays of affection in public, or in private either. Any physical touch Liyah had experienced growing up had come at the brusque hands of nannies, or the women in the palace hammam.

  She’d been in the hammam the day before, and to her eternal shame—because she didn’t usually indulge in self-pity—a sense of loneliness and vulnerability had gripped her. She’d found tears running down her face. The only saving grace had been that she’d known they wouldn’t be noticed during the ancient full-body-washing ritual.

  Tears were a weakness that Liyah rarely indulged in. She had no reason to feel sorry for herself. She’d been born into a privileged world, albeit one that came with responsibilies and duties. She’d had a moment of believing she might escape them—when she’d been in Europe—but deep down she’d always known that her fate was not her own. She just hadn’t known how that would manifest, or that it would manifest so dramatically.

  And yet here she was, with her palm on this man’s chest, his heart echoing the drumming of her blood. A sense of fatality gripped her. She had no idea what her husband-to-be was like, or who he was beyond a name—her own stubborn fault for not wanting to know...as if that might stop it happening—but tomorrow she would no longer be this anonymous woman.

  No longer free to feel the heartbeat of a stranger under her palm. No longer free to swim naked or to take off on her horse when the whim took her. No longer—

  ‘Kiss me, please,’ she blurted out, the words rising up from an unstoppable place inside her.

  Sharif’s blood leapt. He wanted nothing more than to kiss this woman. And a lot more. But he forced himself to stop for a second.

  He put his hand over hers on his chest. It felt incredibly feminine and delicate. ‘Are you sure?’

  He had seen the turmoil on her face just now, as if she was agonising. But now it was clear, determined.

  She nodded. And said, ‘Yes. I’m sure.’

  Sharif took his hand from hers and put his hands on her upper arms, tugging her gently towards him until he could feel the heat of her body through the thin robe.

  Her hair was already starting to curl wildly again. Her green eyes were huge. Unusual, and adding to her striking beauty. Not many had light-coloured eyes in this region. He wondered again for a second who she might be, but then pushed it aside. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was this.

  He pulled her closer until he could feel the lush curves of her body come into contact with his. Dio. He felt like a schoolboy with his first woman all over again. What the hell was that about?

  She was looking up at him, both hands splayed on his chest now. Lips parting, trembling slightly, her breath coming in little pants that made her breasts move against him.

  He bent his head and covered her mouth with his, and even as a part of him was telling himself that this was no different from any other kiss he knew it was a lie.

  Her lips were soft, but firm. Like her. All over. And he’d barely touched her but he was drowning. His hands tightened on her arms as if that would help anchor him as he deepened the kiss and tasted her sweetness.

  She was hesitant at first, and that only heightened
the eroticism of this relatively chaste kiss, but then she became bolder, matching his exploration with her own, nipping his tongue with her teeth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and came even closer...so close that he could feel the tantalising thrust of her hard nipples through the fabric of their clothes.

  He pulled back, dizzy. He needed to see her, feel her. Now.

  He must have spoken out loud because she took down her hands and arms and stepped back, dislodging his hold.

  And as he watched she pulled his robe up and over her head, and dropped it to the floor of the tent.

  He was looking at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. Which was ridiculous, because he had already seen her and she would be an idiot to think for a second that a man like this, who oozed sexuality and confidence, hadn’t looked on lots of naked women.

  Liyah’s mouth felt swollen after that kiss. She could still taste him, dark and explicit, on her tongue.

  But that black gaze devoured her now, lingering on her breasts, her belly, her waist. And down to the juncture between her legs. Her thighs.

  ‘Turn around,’ he ordered gruffly.

  Liyah did so, welcoming momentary escape from that avid intensity. She heard movement behind her and then felt his heat before she felt him. He was naked.

  He pulled her hair aside and over one shoulder. His hands came to her arms again and she felt his breath against her before his lips touched her bare skin.

  ‘Okay?’ he asked.

  His consideration was not something she’d anticipated when she’d behaved so impetuously.

  She nodded, and whispered, ‘Yes. Please.’

  Please keep going. Transport me from this world, from myself, for tonight, so I don’t have to—

  Liyah sucked in a gasp when the man’s arms came under hers and he cupped her breasts in his big hands. His hair-roughened chest was at her back. And she could feel the potency of his hard body. Hard for her.

  Heat grew at her core, making her wet. She groaned softly and fell back into him, her legs turning to jelly as one hand left her breast and travelled down, exploring her curves, over her belly to that place between her legs.

  He drew her up against him, his erection cupped by her buttocks. With one hand, he explored her breast, fingers finding and trapping her nipple, his other hand gently encouraged her to part her legs, so that he could explore her there. Find the seam of flesh that was the last barrier to the evidence of how much she wanted him. Wanted this.

  And then he was there, his fingers opening her up, sinking deep. She clutched at his arm, his hand. Pushing and pulling at the same time. Wanting him to keep doing what he was doing between her legs, but not wanting him to see how much she wanted it.

  He whispered against her skin. ‘It’s okay... I know...’

  She gave up fighting her response and opened up even more, allowing him to move his hand between her legs, his fingers seeking and finding and thrusting deep into her clasping flesh.

  Liyah might have screamed—she wasn’t even sure. All she knew was that he was turning her head so his mouth could fuse with hers as her whole body quivered and shook in his arms, the precursor to the storm he unleashed with a flick of his fingers.

  Liyah was floating...and it was only when he laid her down on the bed that she realised she hadn’t been floating at all. He’d just carried her over to the bed.

  Her whole body was suffused with lingering ecstasy, the waves of orgasm making her inner muscles clench in reaction. She hadn’t had an orgasm before...and now she understood.

  A wave of gratitude swept through her, and before she could stop herself she said, ‘Thank you.’

  He came down on the bed beside her, long lean muscles rippling under all that dark skin. ‘What for?’

  Liyah clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t want to admit she hadn’t had an orgasm before, despite having had sex once. She didn’t want to admit that she’d felt there must be something wrong with her because she hadn’t enjoyed the experience, at all. It had been humiliating on so many levels and then afterwards—

  She shut her mind to that.

  She shook her head on the pillow. ‘Nothing... Just, thank you.’

  The man smiled.

  Liyah bit her lip, wanting his mouth on hers again, drugging her, transporting her.

  To mask her desire, she looked at him. She hadn’t seen his naked body before...he’d been behind her. But now, as he lay alongside her, she let her gaze move down over the hard planes of his chest and his taut belly. To the dark hair between his legs and the rigid length of his erection. Veins ran up along the shaft, pulsing with blood. His thighs were thick and muscled.

  Liyah felt dizzy, even though she was lying down. She glanced at him, feeling shy. He was watching her. She came up on one arm. ‘Can I...? Touch you...?’

  He lay on his back, his smile turning lazy. Knowing. ‘Be my guest.’

  Liyah came up on her knees. She tentatively put out a hand and placed it on his chest, feeling his heart beat again. It was thumping hard. Fast. She trailed it down over his belly. His muscles clenched. She looked at him quickly. He wasn’t smiling any more.

  He said, ‘Go on.’

  She was too intimidated by the silk and steel length of him to explore there just yet, so she traced her fingers over his thigh, marvelling at the sheer strength. His hips were narrow, where hers flared out. She’d never been so aware of a man and a woman’s innate differences.

  His body jerked at her touch, as if tempting her to touch him more intimately.

  Her heart-rate leapt and after a moment of hesitation, she gave in to temptation, touching him experimentally.

  He made a sound and she stopped.

  He looked pained.

  She asked, ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing, just...don’t stop.’

  Liyah curled her hand around him—as much as she could. There was a drop of moisture at the head and she had the inexplicable urge to lick it, taste his essence. She blushed at the thought.

  ‘Let me see you.’

  His voice sounded thick. Not sure what he meant, Liyah looked at him. He sat up slightly, muscles contracting. He took her arms and gently encouraged her to straddle him, placing her so she was spread across his thighs and facing him. Nowhere to hide. Exposed. Her skin prickled with excitement.

  His hands moved down to her hips. He sat back against the plumped-up cushions. ‘You have beautiful breasts.’

  Liyah blushed again. She’d never thought much of her breasts. She’d always been a bit self-conscious of their size, wishing she had a more petite frame like her younger half-sisters. They felt heavy now.

  He sat up and cupped them, looking at her briefly before bringing his hot mouth to first one and then the other, teasing her with open kisses and gentle nips on her skin, before placing his mouth where she was screaming internally to be touched.

  He sucked one nipple and then the other, tugging at her flesh and making her head fall back at the sensation. He fed her flesh into his mouth as if savouring the most succulent food.

  And then, with one hand, he touched her between her legs, where she was so exposed, and without warning she fell over the edge again, gasping in surprise and not a little terrified at this control he could wield so easily over her. It was as if he knew her body better than she did. A stranger.

  When her world had stopped spinning she realised that he was lying back and her hands were digging into his chest. He pulled her down so that her breasts were crushed into his chest and then he moved her hair back, finding her mouth and kissing her.

  Excitement built again when she felt his erection straining between them. Her body was moving instinctively against his, seeking friction. Seeking more.

  He expertly manoeuvred her body so that she was sitting up again, poised over him. He held himself in his hand, the head nudging
the entrance to her very core. She couldn’t breathe. It was as if her body wept with the need to feel him inside her.

  She let herself sink onto him slowly as he took his hand away and gripped her hip. He was big. She sucked in a breath but he lay still, letting her dictate the pace as she allowed her body to absorb all that heat and strength.

  She held her breath as momentary discomfort made itself felt.

  His hands tightened on her hips. ‘Are you...?’

  She focused on him, her vision blurred by all the sensations coursing through her body. What was he asking? If she was a—

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’m not.’

  But she’d only had sex once before, and she wasn’t even sure if the experience counted, because it had felt nothing like this.

  The discomfort had become something else—something much sharper and more pleasurable. Liyah started to move up and down slowly, letting her body get used to his.

  They were both breathing heavily now, and Liyah felt sweat sheening her skin. Her movements became faster, and he held her hips lightly, but she could feel the need in him to hold her so that he could take control.

  She felt infinitely powerful in that moment. But then her own frustration grew because she couldn’t find the perfect rhythm that her body craved.

  In a split second he’d manoeuvred them so that she was on her back and he looked down at her, his body still deeply embedded in hers.

  He pulled out and her every muscle tensed, waiting for the delicious slide of his body into hers again, but he stopped.

  Hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt, Liyah said, ‘Is something wrong?’

  He pulled out fully and her body protested.

  ‘Protection. I have no protection here.’

  Liyah didn’t understand for a second, and then she did. Relief flowed through her. ‘It’s okay. I’m on the pill.’

  Sharif looked at the woman under him. Her wild hair was spread around her head. Her skin was flushed dark red, her eyes like bright green jewels. Lips plump.

  The effort it had taken him to pull free from the clasp of her body made him shake. No woman—ever—had had this effect on him. Sex for him was usually a transitory physical satisfaction. Like scratching an itch. He’d always derived more pleasure out of the chase and the conquest than the actual act. He’d always been able to hold himself slightly aloof...