Page 44 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

When he kissed me last night, he was careful, restrained, his hands soft, his touch deliberate.

Now, he grabs me by the hips in a way I never imagined letting any man touch me, except, perhaps, my future husband.

The contact is intimate, possessive, domineering.

The press of our bodies and the hungry way he devours my lips make me surrender far too quickly.

I cling to him, craving more, wanting everything, even if I don’t yet understand what “everything” means.

The world falls away. There’s only us. Mouths exploring, bodies trembling, desire consuming.

Each stroke of his tongue is an invitation into the unknown, a promise of delirious pleasure. Heat blooms between my thighs, liquid and burning.

My hand tangles in his hair, pulling him closer, silently begging him not to stop.

When he draws me against the hardness of his desire, I don’t flinch. His hand slides down my leg, lifting my dress slightly, fingers grazing bare skin. I moan, unable to hide how his touch is driving me insane.

His mouth trails down my neck, and when he bites gently, I lean into him, afraid my legs might give out.

“You want me too, ayuni[31],” he murmurs. “Why fight it?”

Did he just call me his eyes? Among our people, that expression is sacred. Eyes are considered precious, almost divine.

It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s stopped kissing me and is just looking at me now.

Heat floods my cheeks at how shamelessly I let myself go. Even so, when my hands rest on his chest, I’m not sure whether I want to push him away or pull him closer.

“A marriage based on desire?” I ask.

“It’s more than most people have to start with.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never even dated.”

“I know that.”

“And you still want me as your wife? I’m not experienced like the women you’ve been with.”

Something flickers in his eyes. “The women I’ve been with? I have no one else. The only woman who matters to me is standing right in front of me.”

The temptation to believe him is almost unbearable, and precisely because of that, I force myself to remember the truth. I can still picture the gossip magazines Jazmina receives every week.

“Your sister gets those celebrity magazines,” I remind him.

“If I wanted one of the women I’ve been seen with, I’d have proposed to her. I want you.”

“You’re asking me to marry you because you’ll need a wife once you become sheikh?” I ask, throwing caution aside. Right now, I don’t care that he’s a prince. I see only a man asking a woman to be his wife.

In our society, loveless marriages aren’t rare. Still, until I heard my father offer me to another man, I’d never even considered the idea. I’d never met anyone who stirred my interest, and I still held on to the hope of leaving for England.

“That’s part of it,” he admits. “It’s expected, and it’ll please my father.”

This time I know I want to push him away, but when I try, he catches both my wrists behind my back and, with his other hand, cups my face.

“But there isn’t a force on Earth that could make me marry someone I didn’t desire. You set my blood on fire, Adeela.”

“You desire me,” I whisper, swallowing hard.

“Like I’ve never desired another woman. Is my proposal really that bad? To stand by my side as my wife?” His voice is persuasive, hypnotic. “You’d be safe for the rest of your life. And so would your mother. I could bring her to live with us in Rheadur. Your father would never be able to harm either of you again.”