Had he been that tall yesterday? That imposing? She suddenly felt very thirsty again. ‘Oh, well.’ She waved a hand around aimlessly. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’ Especially not when you’re only half-clothed.
‘I already said that you didn’t wake me.’
Right. So he had.
‘How’s the head?’
It took her a minute to realise he was referring to her drunken episode on the plane. ‘Um, good.’ His gaze dropped to the belt on her robe and she realised she was fidgeting with it. ‘So, thank you for taking care of me last night.’
A muscle knotted in his jaw. ‘My pleasure.’
The softness of his tone thumped into her breastbone, his tone full of sensual promise and a decadent passion she was finding harder and harder to resist.
But for some reason it seemed imperative that she did resist, some deep awareness warning her that it was too much. That he made her feel too much. And as if to prove her own point her nipples peaked beneath her robe as if he were already touching her, the delicate fabric of her bra chafing like sandpaper, yet not rough enough to ease the ache. Would his hands be able to do that? His mouth? Involuntarily her eyes lifted to his.
A gruff sound broke the heavy silence between them and Farah realised that her husband was no longer standing stationary across the room. He was moving, towards her, his long, panther-like strides eating up the space between them.
Farah didn’t move. She couldn’t. She just waited, and if she’d thought her breathing shallow before, that was nothing compared to now. When he reached her he stopped and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
The gesture tugged at her heartstrings. ‘Do you...do you want coffee?’ she asked on a nervous rush, her whole body taut with equal parts desire and dread.
‘Coffee?’ He shook his head. ‘No, my beautiful bride, I do not want coffee.’ He forked his fingers into the loose tumble of her hair. ‘I want you.’ He eased her forward until all that separated them was the thick cloth of her robe and his sweats. ‘Naked.’ She shuddered, completely mesmerised by the hunger burning in his eyes. ‘Untie the robe.’
Like someone in a daze, Farah fumbled with the knotted belt until the lapels hung straight down. She saw his nostrils flare and a thrill raced down her spine.
‘Now open it,’ he urged roughly.
Slowly, feeling as if she was in a hot whirlpool about to go under, Farah did, and then she was hard up against him, the tips of her breasts crushed against the solid wall of his chest. She made a sound, more like a whimper, and her knees gave out.
‘Yes,’ he growled right before he dragged her mouth up to his and kissed her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT MIGHT HAVE been because of the mystical aspect of the predawn morning or it might have been because of the state of her nerves—probably it was just him—but Farah gave up all thought of resisting. Instead she opened to him, lost in the mindless passion that he had started inside her.
Raising her arms she wound them around his neck and arched into his rough, restless hands as they skated over her back and met at her bottom, lifting her onto her toes.
He growled low, the sound rough and exciting. Her body answered it with a flood of moisture at her core. Fevered, Farah clutched at his shoulders, lifting herself higher, her body searching for that perfect alignment with his, that perfect amount of pressure that would ease the ache. Oh, there it was, right there! ‘Zachim!’
He swallowed his name with his kiss and brought both hands up to cup her breasts. Farah nearly died as pleasure knifed through her. She arched more fully against him, seeking more, wanting—oh, yes, wanting—him to lightly pinch her nipples. Her body bowed toward his, seeking more. Had anything ever felt this good, this perfect? She nuzzled her nose against his neck, planting open-mouthed kisses along his jaw, his cheek, wherever she could reach.
He turned his head, his mouth capturing hers again, his hands squeezing her gently, his fingers teasing, one muscled thigh wedged between hers, stroking the flames higher.
Suddenly his touch on her breasts wasn’t enough and she nearly whimpered with ecstasy as his hand trailed over her stomach and curved between her legs. She felt like she was standing on some kind of tightrope, her whole body like a finely tuned instrument waiting for the master player to stroke the correct parts, her focus completely centred on the heat of his palm cupping her.
He hitched her higher, one arm hooked below her bottom as he bent forward and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Farah cried out and clutched at him to hold him close.
‘So beautiful. So...sweet.’ He rolled her nipple between his teeth and then drew on her rhythmically, his fingers playing with the lace of her panties between her legs. Dimly she thought that she should stop him and then her brain reminded her that they were married. That he was allowed to touch her like this. That she was allowed to lift her hips towards his hand and widen her stance to make it easier for him to... She groaned long and low and her head hit the wall when his fingers slid beneath the lace.
Which was when she remembered, and her head snapped forward. ‘I didn’t— That is, I’m not—’ She clamped one hand over his to stay his exploration.
‘You’re not what, habiba?’
His finger moved along the folds of her most private place and she completely forgot what she was or what she wasn’t. Nothing mattered except the delicious sensations he evoked as he stroked her and pressed deep.
With her eyes blissfully closed, Farah was completely unprepared when Zach dropped to his knees and ripped her flimsy panties from her body.
Her eyes flew to his. ‘Oh. I... You...’
‘Shhh,’ he whispered, lifting one of her thighs and draping it over his shoulder, opening her to him. ‘I need to taste you.’
Lost in a rush of liquid heat Farah gripped his hair as his tongue lapped at her, part of her wanting to pull him away and another, much more wanton part, wanting to pull him in closer.
The wanton part won out and he rewarded her with long firm strokes of his tongue. ‘That’s it, habiba, let yourself go.’ His lips latched on to a part of her that made her body tighten with anticipation and she no longer knew exactly what he was doing to her or what part of himself he was doing it with, every cell in her body assaulted by a kaleidoscope of sensation it was stretching to reach. ‘You taste so good,’ he crooned between licks. ‘Hot and sweet.’
‘Zachim, Zach—please, please, I...’ She didn’t know what she was asking him for but suddenly she screamed as sensation ripped through her body, holding her for one brief, paralysing moment before tossing her into a maelstrom of pleasure that had her falling, falling...
‘I’ve got you.’ Dimly she was aware of his hand between her legs, of his fingers pushed up inside her, locking her into place, absorbing the shudders that wouldn’t seem to stop while he held her against him.
She could hear her own harsh breathing but she couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t... ‘What did you just do to me?’
His mouth lingered on hers, easing her back down to earth. ‘I gave you an orgasm.’ Masculine satisfaction coated each word.
‘Oh.’ Farah licked her lips. She could taste him there and also herself.
‘Good, yeah?’
She felt her already hot cheeks catch fire.
‘It’s okay, sweetheart. I want to do that again—have you come in my mouth. I want— Hell.’ He swore and muttered something about a bed before scooping her up in his arms.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just remembered that you haven’t done this before. I don’t know how I forgot.’ He twisted the doorknob and shouldered open the door. ‘I’m sorry if I scared you.’
Farah buried her head against his shoulder and inhaled his male scent. He hadn’t scared her, exactly. ‘It was nice.’
‘Nice? That was
more than nice.’ He placed her on the bed and slipped off her bra. Completely naked now, Farah stared up at him. A muscle flicked in his jaw.
‘You’re exquisite.’ He came down over the top of her and lashed the tip of her naked breasts with his tongue. The sensation was so piercing Farah nearly shot off the bed. ‘Oh. Oh. Do that again. Please...’
‘With pleasure, habiba,’ he purred against her aroused flesh. ‘With pleasure.’
* * *
Her tiny little panting breaths were going to be the end of him, Zach decided as he tried to keep from yanking off his sweats and driving straight into her nude body. Especially with her squirming beneath him like she was.
He placed a hand on her hip to stay her, wanting to draw out the moment, wanting to memorise every dip and curve of her silky skin. Wanting to feast on her tight little nipples that were now the colour of dark berries from where he’d sucked them—and they were just as sweet. As was every part of her; he wanted to lick and kiss her all over, starting with her mouth and ending with his face buried deep between her thighs again. The way she had come apart before, the shock widening her chocolate-brown eyes as she’d reached the absolute pinnacle of pleasure for the first time, would stay with him always.
‘Zachim?’ Her voice was soft, questioning, and he realised he was staring at her.
He drew a lazy circle around the swells of her breasts. ‘What do you want, sweetheart?’ He lapped at her. ‘More of this?’
‘Yes, oh, yes!’ she gasped. ‘But I want... I want to see you. To touch you.’
He’d be damned if he didn’t want that, too. ‘I’m all yours.’ He sat up and stilled when he felt her small hands lift to his chest. She smoothed them over him, testing the firmness of his muscles, the springiness of his chest hair. He worked out regularly, so he knew he was in shape, but watching her avid face as she took him in was a pleasure all by itself. Who would have known?
Her movements grew bolder as she worked her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, then back up to stroke them down his happy trail. Every muscle in his body tensed as she stopped at his sweats riding low on his hips. His erection was so hard he was surprised he hadn’t burst a seam.
Unable to wait any longer, he came over the top of her. She looked up at him, her eyes questioning. ‘I want to make this last,’ he said thickly, bending his head and nipping at her lips. She opened instantly and Zach moaned, settling his weight on top of her.
She wound her arms around his neck and he widened her legs and gently slid a finger along her damp curls to test her readiness. She was still hot and slick and he had to bite back a low groan, pleased when a whimper escaped her lips and she raised her hips to meet his gentle thrusts. ‘You like that?’ He inhaled her aroused scent. ‘You like it when I touch you?’
‘Yes, oh, yes.’ She widened her knees even more and Zach slipped another finger inside her tight sheath, preparing her for his possession. Sweat broke out over his forehead and his muscles shook with the effort to hold himself back.
He watched her eyes glaze over and felt masculine pride that he could get her so close to the edge again so quickly. She was his. All his. Her dark hair was a messy cloud around her head, her slender limbs quivering for more. So he gave it to her, bending his head to tongue her nipple while circling her clitoris with his thumb. She nearly came off the bed and he growled his appreciation and took the tight bud deeper. He went from one to the other until she was writhing and moaning on the bed.
‘Zachim, I need more. Please. I want—’
‘Me,’ he finished for her. ‘Only me.’
Rearing up, he quickly stripped the sweats from his legs and noticed her eyes widen at the sight of him. ‘Don’t worry, habiba, we will fit together.’
She swallowed. ‘I don’t know how.’
Zach smoothed her sweat-dampened hair from her face. ‘I’ll make it good for you. Open your legs for me, Farah,’ he instructed after she had closed them at the sight of him.
Gently nudging her knees wide with his own he settled his hips between her thighs. She was so wet the tip of his erection slid a little way into her without him meaning to. She lifted against him and he stilled. ‘Easy, habiba, I don’t want to hurt you.’
He felt her muscles clamp down around him and his body shuddered as it fought for control. Barely holding back he leaned down to kiss her. When he felt her attention absorbed by his mouth, he slid in a little deeper, gritting his teeth as her soft heat surrounded him. By Allah, but going slow was torture. ‘Sweetheart, habiba, just relax a little more for me.’
Sweat slicked his skin as she shifted beneath him and it was all he could do not to drive into her with one wild, brutal thrust home.
‘Zachim...’
She lifted against him and it was Zach’s undoing. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I have to—’ He slid deep and heard her gasp.
He stilled, waiting for her to push him away. Instead she stroked his slick shoulders, his back, reaching down to cup his buttocks.
Zach pulled out a little way and pushed back in. She was hot, wet and so soft beneath him. So responsive. ‘How are you? Does it hurt?’
‘No, I... It feels like you’re filling me up.’
‘I am, sweetheart.’ Zach withdrew and plunged into her a little more roughly. ‘I’m all the way in.’
She gasped his name and something primal uncoiled inside him. Something unsettling, like a whispered warning. Tensing he tried to catch the essence of it but Farah lifted to him, trying to match his rhythm, and he stopped thinking and helped her, guiding her, learning her, his brain focused on only one objective.
He could feel the slight tremors of her contractions and sense the urgency of her impending orgasm as her body pushed up to meet his. The pleasure was so intense he lost all sense of control, his body driven by an ancient instinct that threw them both over the edge into a place he’d never known was possible.
For a long time afterwards, Zach lay staring at the ceiling, Farah asleep at his side, wondering if he’d ever experienced anything like what had just happened. Wondering if the world had ever stopped at the point of his joining with a woman before. Wondering if he had ever felt this sense of completion before, this happy.
It seemed like a ludicrous emotion to have in bed. Satisfaction, yes. Pleasure, a given. But completion? Joy? Possessiveness?
He turned onto his side and tucked a silky strand of her hair behind her ear. She sighed and curled closer. Zach rubbed his chest, too tired to think let alone analyse what he was feeling. What did it matter anyway? It was what it was. Farah was his wife and there was no going back now.
* * *
Blinking against a room filled with light, Farah slowly opened her eyes and listened to the distant street noises that told her she should have been up hours ago. Then she remembered why she wasn’t in such glorious, technicolour detail that she wasn’t sure if she should feel appalled or delighted. Certainly she’d never experienced that kind of pleasure in her life before.
She pulled a face as she recalled every one of her whimpers, moans and cries for more. Then there was the way she had stroked the downy line of hair that covered Zach’s rocky abdomen... She’d been out of control. Internal muscles ached in agreement and she wondered how she was going to face him this morning. For a woman who claimed she hadn’t wanted to get married or have a man in her life, she’d put up very little resistance.
Actually, a little voice pointed out helpfully, you put up none.
Great. Even better.
Showering and washing her hair quickly, she dried off and then realised she had nothing to wear. Hearing a noise in the next room, she cast around and saw her folded wedding dress on a chair against the wall. She’d feel silly putting that on. Then she noticed a T-shirt draped over the back of a chair.
It was red and had a white image of a bird
of prey in full flight on the front. It smelt of Zach and she inhaled deeply, her internal muscles softening even more. She frowned. Should she be thinking of sex again so soon? Was this even normal?
Determined that she would not turn into one of those clingy women who lived only to serve her husband, Farah pushed her thick hair back over her shoulder and opened the bedroom door, hoping at least that Zach had more clothes on than earlier.
Unfortunately not; she inwardly groaned. He was standing, half-turned away from her, slicing something at the kitchen bench and wearing low-riding denims, his hair slightly damp as if he, too, was not long out of the shower; his torso and feet were bare.
The leap in her pulse was instant and she drew in a deep breath, the scent of bacon and coffee making her stomach rumble. Hearing the embarrassingly loud noise, Zach turned towards her, his leonine eyes raking her from head to toe in that intense way that made her body burn.
He cursed, a swift, harsh sound, before he brought the side of his thumb up to his mouth.
Realising what had happened, she rushed to his side. ‘Oh no, did you just cut yourself?’
She took his hand in hers, examining the line of blood that appeared as soon as he stopped sucking on it. ‘You need to wash this under running water so we can see how deep it is.’
‘It’s not deep.’
But he complied and Farah tested the skin around the cut. He was right. It wasn’t deep. ‘It will still need a plaster. Do you have one?’
‘No idea.’ His eyes darkened as he watched her. ‘Don’t you think it’s strange that I always seem to bleed around you?’
‘That only happened once before,’ she said indignantly. ‘And you can hardly hold me responsible for this incident.’
‘You walk in wearing nothing but my T-shirt, what do you expect? It’s more of a weapon than the damned sword.’ His eyes drifted over her again. ‘Please tell me you at least have panties on underneath.’
Her skin felt hot under his eyes. ‘You ripped them.’ Right about the time he’d fallen to his knees.
Hidden In the Sheikh's Harem Page 12
