Wrapped In Pleasure

by Brenda Jackson

  It was a long-standing joke within the family that her youngest brother wanted a wife who he could keep in the bedroom, 24/7. The only time he would let her out of bed was when she needed to go to the bathroom. He wanted her in the bed when he left for work and in the bed when he came back home. His wife’s primary job would be to have his children and to keep him happy in the bedroom, so it wouldn’t matter to him if she were a lousy cook in the kitchen. He would hire a housekeeper to take care of any less important stuff.

  Delaney shook her head. And all this time she’d thought that Storm was a rare breed. Evidently not. When they had made Storm, the mold hadn’t been broken after all.

  She glanced quickly at Jamal and wondered how she had gotten herself in this predicament. When she hadn’t been able to sleep, going to the store in the middle of the night for some things she needed had seemed like a good idea. But she hadn’t counted on Jamal accompanying her.

  She sighed as the car traveled farther and farther away from the city and back toward the cabin. She stole another glance at him and saw that he was watching her. She quickly returned her gaze to the road.

  When they finally arrived back at the cabin, Delaney felt wired. Too keyed-up to sleep. She decided to start cutting back on the hours of sleep she was putting in during the day. At night, while the cabin was quiet, her mind had started to wander and she didn’t like the direction it was taking.

  She quickly walked past Jamal when he opened the door, intending to make a path straight for her room. The last thing she could handle was another encounter like the one shared before. The man was definitely an experienced kisser.

  What he had predicted was true. She hated admitting it but her body was hungry for him. A slow ache was beginning to form between her legs, and heat was settling there, as well.

  “Would you like to share a cup of coffee with me, Delaney?”

  The sound of his voice, husky and sexy, like always, did things to her insides. It also made that ache between her legs much more profound. Sharing a cup of coffee with him was the last thing she wanted to do. She would never make it through the first sip before jumping his bones. “No, thanks, I think I’ll go on to bed.”

  “If you ever get tired of sleeping alone, just remember that my room is right across the hall.”

  Delaney tightened her lips. “Thanks for the offer, but I won’t keep that in mind.”

  He reached out and brought his hand to her face and caressed her cheek. The action was so quick she hadn’t had time to blink. His touch was soft, tender, gentle, and her breathing began a slow climb. He leaned toward her and whispered. “Won’t you?”

  Delaney closed her eyes, drinking in the masculine scent of him. Desire for him was about to clog her lungs. Fighting for control, she took a step back as she opened her eyes. “Sorry, Your Highness, but no, I won’t.” She then turned and walked quickly to her room, thinking she had lied to him and that she would.

  “Oh, my goodness.” Delaney shifted her body around in the hammock while keeping her eyes glued to the book, not believing what she was reading.

  She hadn’t read a romance novel in nearly eight years and then the ones she’d read had been those sweet romances. But nothing was sweet about the book she had purchased last night. The love scenes didn’t leave you guessing about anything.

  She had awakened that morning, and while Jamal had been outside doing his kickboxing routine, she’d sat at the wobbly table and had eaten a bagel and had drunk a cup of orange juice. Jamal was still outside by the time she had finished. She had passed him when she had left to find a good spot near the lake to read her book.

  She took in a deep breath, then returned to the book once more. A few minutes later the rate of her heart increased, and she wondered if two people could actually perform that many positions in bed.

  Stretching her body and giving herself a chance to catch her breath, she admitted that reading the book had turned her on. In her imagination, the tall, dark, handsome hero was Jamal and she was the elusive and sexy heroine.

  Rolling onto her back she decided she had read enough. There was no use torturing her body anymore. The next thing Delaney knew, she had drifted off to sleep with thoughts of romancing the sheikh on her mind.

  She dreamed she was being kissed in the most tantalizing and provocative way; not on her lips but along her shoulder and neck. Then she felt a gentle tug on her tank top as it was lifted up to expose her bare breasts. It had been too hot for a bra so she’d not worn one, and now, with the feel of her imaginary lover’s tongue moving over her breasts, tasting her, nibbling on her, she was glad that she hadn’t. A rush of heated desire spread through the lower part of her legs as a hot, wet tongue took hold of a nipple and gently began sucking, feasting on the budding tip.

  A name, one she had given to her imaginary lover, came out on a gasp of a sound. Her mind began spinning, her breathing became even more erratic and her body hotter. A part of her didn’t want the dream to end, but then another part was afraid for it to continue. It seemed so real that she was almost tortured beyond control, just on the edge of insanity.

  Then suddenly her lover lowered her top and ceased all action without warning. Her breathing slowed back to normal as she struggled to gain control of her senses.

  Moments later, Delaney lifted her dazed eyes and glanced around her. She was alone, but the dream had seemed so real. The nipples on her breasts were still throbbing and the area between her legs was aching for something it had never had before—relief.

  She closed her eyes, wondering if she could dream up her lover again and decided she couldn’t handle that much pleasure twice in the same day. Besides, she was still sleepy and tired. As she drifted off to sleep she couldn’t help remembering her dream and thought it had been utterly amazing.

  Jamal breathed deeply as he leaned back against the tree. What had possessed him to do what he’d just done to Delaney? It didn’t take long for him to have his answer. He had been attracted to her from the first, and when he had come upon her sleeping in the hammock wearing a short midriff top and shorts, with a portion of her stomach bare to his gaze, he couldn’t resist the thought of tasting her. A taste he had thought about a lot lately.

  Her breasts, even while she slept, had been erect with the dark tips of her nipples showing firmly against her blouse. Without very much thought, he had gone to her and had knelt before her to feast upon every inch of her body. But he hadn’t gotten as far as he wanted before coming to his senses.

  Just thinking about making love to her made him aroused to the point that his erection, pressing against the fly of his jeans, was beginning to ache. And when she had moaned out his name, he’d almost lost it.

  A woman had been the last thing on his mind when he had arrived at the cabin. Now a woman, one woman in particular, was the only thing he could think about.

  His body felt hot. It felt inflamed. He wondered if he should pack his things and ask Asalum to come for him. Maybe it was time for him to return to Tahran. Never before had he wanted any woman to the point of seducing her while she slept.

  But he knew he couldn’t leave. She had moaned out his name. He hadn’t imagined it. She may deny wanting him while she was awake, but while she slept it was a different matter.

  His libido stirred. He wanted to taste her again. In truth, he wanted more than that. He wanted to make love with her. And every muscle in his body strained toward that goal.

  Chapter 5

  Jamal was sitting at the wobbly table drinking a cup of tea when Delaney came inside for lunch a few hours later. She glanced over at him as she made her way to the refrigerator to take out the items she needed for a sandwich.

  “I’m making a sandwich for lunch,” she said, opening the refrigerator. “Would you like one, too?”

  Jamal shifted in the chair as he looked at her. He didn’t want a sandwich. He wanted sex. And as a result, he felt restless and on edge. Earlier in the week he had tasted her mouth, today he had feasted on her n
ipples. There wasn’t much of her left to discover, but what there was sent his hormones into overdrive.

  When he didn’t answer, she turned away from the refrigerator and looked at him curiously. “Jamal?”

  “Yes?”

  “I asked if you wanted a sandwich?”

  He nodded, deciding to take her up on her offer. He needed to eat something, since he would need all his strength later for something he would enjoy. At least that was what he was hoping. “Yes, thank you. I would love to have a sandwich.” I would love to have you.

  He continued to watch as she took items out of the refrigerator and assembled them on the counter. The enticing scent of her perfume was filling the kitchen and he found himself getting deeply affected by it. And it didn’t help matters that he knew she wasn’t wearing a bra under her top and that her breasts were the best kind to lick and suck. The moment his tongue had touched the taut nipple, the tip of it had hardened like a bud, tempting him to draw the whole thing in his mouth and gently suck and tease it with a pulling sensation. And the way she had moaned while squirming around on the hammock had let him know she enjoyed his actions.

  He shifted his gaze from her chest to her bottom. Her backside had been what had caught his attention that very first day. It was also the main thing that had him hard now. She liked wearing shorts, the kind that showed just what a nice behind she had. Nice thighs, too. The shorts placed emphasis on the curve of her hips. He wondered what her behind looked like without clothes. He bet her buttocks were as firm and as lush as her breasts.

  “Do you want mayonnaise on your bread?”

  Her questions made him return his gaze to her face when she tossed him a glance over her shoulder. “No, mustard is fine,” he answered, briefly considering pinning her against the counter and taking her from behind. He could just imagine pumping into her while pressed solidly against her backside.

  He took another sip of his herbal tea. Usually the sweet brew calmed him. But not today and certainly not now.

  “Be prepared to enjoy my sandwich,” she was saying. “My brothers think they’re the bomb and would give anything for me to make them one. They have my special touch.”

  He nodded. He could believe that and suddenly felt envious of a slice of bread and wished he could trade places with it. He would love to have her hands on him, spreading whatever she wanted over his body, preferably kisses. She wouldn’t even have to toast him since her touch would burn him to a crisp, anyway.

  She glanced over his shoulder and smiled again. “You’re quiet today. Are you okay?”

  He was tempted to tell her that no, he wasn’t okay, and if he were to stand up she would immediately see why he wasn’t. But instead he said, “Yes, I’m fine.”

  Satisfied with his response, she turned back around to continue making their sandwiches. He leaned back in his chair. He watched her pat her foot on the hardwood floor while she worked. She was also humming. He wondered what had her in such a good mood. Unlike him, she must be sleeping at night and not experiencing sexual torment.

  “Did you finish your book?” he decided to ask. She had been reading it all morning. The only time he noticed her not reading was when she’d fallen asleep on the hammock.

  “Oh, yes, and it was wonderful,” she said, reaching up in the cabinets to get two plates. “And of course there was a happy ending.”

  He lifted his brow. So she had been reading one of those kinds. “A happy ending?”

  She nodded, turning around. “Yes. Marcus realized just how much Jamie meant to him and told her that he loved her before it was too late.”

  Jamal nodded. “He loved this woman?”

  Delaney smiled dreamily. “Yes, he loved her.”

  Jamal frowned. “Then what you read was pure fantasy. Why waste your time reading such nonsense and foolishness?”

  Delaney’s smile was replaced with a fierce frown. “Nonsense? Foolishness?”

  “Yes, nonsense and foolishness. Men don’t love women that way.”

  Delaney braced herself against the counter and folded her arms across her chest. Her legs, Jamal noted, were spread apart. Seeing her stand that way almost made him forget what they were discussing. Instead his gaze moved to the junction of those legs and wondered how it would feel fitting his hard body there.

  “And just how do men love women?”

  Jamal’s gaze left her midsection and moved up to her face. She was still frowning. Evidently she was no longer in such a good mood. “Usually they don’t. At least not in my country.”

  Delaney lifted a brow. “People do get married in your country, don’t they?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why would a man and a woman marry if not for love?”

  Jamal stared at her, suddenly feeling disoriented. She had a way of making him feel like that whenever he locked on her dark brown eyes and lush lips. “They would marry for a number of reasons. Mainly for benefits,” he responded, not taking his gaze off her eyes and lips. Especially her lips.

  “Benefits?”

  He nodded. “Yes. If it’s a good union, the man brings to the table some kind of wealth and the woman brings strong family ties, allegiances and the ability to give him an heir. Those things are needed if a sheikhdom is to grow and prosper.”

  Delaney stared into his eyes, amazed at what he had just said. “So the marriages in your country are like business arrangements?”

  He smiled. “Basically, yes. That’s why the most successful ones are arranged at least thirty years in advance.”

  “Thirty years in advance!” she exclaimed, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Yes, at least that long, sometimes even longer. More often than not, the man and woman’s family plans their union even before they are born. Such was the case with my father and mother. She was of Berber descent. The Berbers were and still are a proud North African tribe that inhabits the land in northwestern Libya. As a way to maintain peace between the Berbers and the Arabs, a marriage agreement between my mother, an African princess, and my father, an Arab prince, was made. Therefore, I am of Arab-Berber descent, just as the majority of the people of Tahran are. My parents were married a little more than a year when my mother died giving birth to me.”

  Delaney leaned back against the counter. At the moment what he was telling her was more interesting than making a sandwich. “What if your father, although pledged to your mother, had found someone else who he preferred to spend the rest of his life?”

  “That would have been most unfortunate. And it wouldn’t have meant a thing. He would still marry the woman he’d been pledged to marry. However, he could take the other woman he fancied as a mistress for the rest of his days.”

  “A mistress? And what would his wife have to say about something like that?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s common practice for a man to have both a wife and mistress. That sort of an arrangement is accepted.”

  Delaney shook her head. American men knew better. “That’s such a waste, Jamal. Why would a man need both a wife and a mistress? A smart man would seek out and fall in love with a woman who can play both roles. In our country wives are equipped to fulfill every desire her husband may have.”

  Jamal lifted a brow. He could see her fulfilling every man’s desire since he saw her as a very sensual woman. She would probably make a good American wife, if you liked the outspoken, sassy and rebellious type. She would keep a man on his toes and no doubt on his knees. But he had a feeling she would also keep him on his back—which would be well worth the trouble she would cause him.

  He sighed, deciding he didn’t want to talk about wives and mistresses any longer, especially when he knew how possessive American women were. “Are the sandwiches ready?”

  Evidently, she wasn’t ready to bring the subject to an end and asked, “The first day we met you indicated you were to marry next year.”

  He nodded. “Yes, that’s true. In my country it’s customary for a man to marry before his thirty-fif
th birthday. And I’ll be that age next summer.”

  “And the woman you’re marrying? Was your marriage to her prearranged?”

  Seeing she would not give the sandwich to him until her curiosity had been appeased, he said, “Yes, and no. My family had arranged my marriage to the future princess of Bahan before she was born. I was only six at the time. But she and her family were killed a few years ago while traveling in another country. That was less than a year before we were to marry. She was only eighteen at the time.”

  Delaney gave a sharp intake of air into her lungs. “Oh, that must have been awful for you.”

  Jamal shrugged. “I guess it would have been had I known her.” Like I know you now, he thought, watching her eyes lift in confusion. The thought of anything ever happening to her…

  “What do you mean if you had known her? You didn’t know the woman you were going to marry?” Her mouth gaped open in pure astonishment.

  “No, I had never met her. There was really no need. We were going to marry. Her showing up at the wedding would have been soon enough.”

  “But…but what if she was someone you didn’t want?”

  Jamal looked at her, smiling as if she had asked a completely stupid question. “Of course I would have wanted her. She was pledged to be my wife, and I was pledged to be her husband. We would have married regardless.”

  Delaney inhaled slowly. “And you would have kept your mistress.” She said the words quietly, not bothering to ask if he had one. A man like him would, especially a man who thought nothing of marrying a woman he had never met to fulfill a contract his family had made. He would bed his wife for heirs, fulfilling his duty, then bed his mistress for pleasure.

  “Yes, I would keep my mistress.” He thought of Najeen, then added, “I would never think of giving her up.”