Page 55 of Kismet

“I think you need to explain that request, ma belle.”

Cold and distant, his voice blew an icy wind across her skin as his brown eyes marked her with a wintry stare. She’d touched a raw nerve. The past had a greater hold on him than she’d realized. It was there in his harsh and forbidding expression. They were at odds again, and she didn’t want that. The thought chilled her even more, and she shivered as she answered him.

“Are you willing to show me the man who prefers to bury himself in the desert rather than return to England to face his past?” Her question turned him into a cold statue.

“Exactly what is it you think you know about my past, Allegra?”

“Only what I’ve deduced—nothing more. It’s not too difficult to guess that you’re at odds with your family. You yourself told me you never got along with your father.”

Her words echoed softly between them, and his mouth thinned even more as he watched her with a cold eye. She wasn’t lying. He was certain of that. If anything, she looked puzzled as to why he was angry. And he was angry. Furious because he’d allowed her revelation to affect him.

From the first moment he’d learned Shaftsbury was looking for him, he’d assumed it was because his father was dead. But not knowing anything for certain had made it easy to dismiss the possibility. Without confirmation, he could easily bury his emotions deep beneath the layers of detachment he’d built over the past fifteen years without feeling anything because he knew nothing. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the stream of moonlight pushing its way through the tent’s ceiling.

He’d always thought the news of his father’s death or impending demise would have little, if any, impact on him. God knows he’d wished the bastard in his grave on more than one occasion over the years. But the reality of the situation was completely different from what he’d expected. Instead of the blasé disinterest of someone unaffected by the news, it was as if someone had stabbed him with a knife. And it infuriated him that he cared, that he still longed for his father’s love and approval. That he found himself wishing his father might still be alive and that he could return to England in hope of— He was a fool.

Allegra’s hand pressed against his chest, as she rose up to hover over him. The compassion on her face was mixed with another emotion he couldn’t name. The sight of it warmed him more than he wanted to admit. Even now, as he struggled to come to grips with the emotions barreling through him, he was moved by her.

“Perhaps if you just listened to what Charles has to say—”

The instant Shaftsbury’s name rolled off her lips his pain ebbed as a new emotion took hold. Primeval in nature, it raced through his blood with a primitive rhythm he refused to name.

“No,” he growled before she could finish her sentence. “No more talk.”

His hands slid across silky shoulders as he grasped her arms and rolled her onto her back in one swift move. Fever slashed through him as he stared down at her. She was his now, and he refused to share her with any man. After tonight she would be marked in such a way that not even she would be able to dispute that fact. Lowering his head swiftly, he took her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss.

She didn’t protest, but welcomed the harsh caress with an eagerness that heated his blood even more. Her excitement betrayed itself in the way her arms curled around his neck to pull him deeper into her body. Beneath him, her soft curves met his hard, angular ones, while every inch of him sought to connect with the soft silk of her skin. It wasn’t enough to simply feel her against him. There was this overwhelming need to absorb her into his body, bind her to him for as long as he could. It was the most base sensation he’d ever felt. There was no comparison to the raw intensity of it. To the fire that consumed him.

He shuddered as her lips parted beneath his and her tongue flicked its way into his mouth. Christ Jesus, but the woman knew how to tantalize him with one hot stroke of her delicious tongue. The fire in his blood was out of control. Impossible to stop. That he didn’t want to stop should have alarmed him, but it was a fleeting thought in the haze of this blinding desire. It possessed him to the point that he was lost in her arms. Lost in realizing that he might never be able to let her go. The thought should have extinguished the blaze inside him, but it didn’t.

Tossing it aside, he welcomed the consuming fundamental need that allowed him to immerse himself in her. It pushed everything out of his head. Shaftsbury, his father, his failures, James, Frances—everything receded as he took from her what she willingly gave. And she was willing. Needy. She clung to him just as a jasmine vine embraced a tree. The flower’s scent and the sharp bite of mint cloaked her skin, but he also detected the faint hint of musk. Desire’s scent.

God, she was already wet and slick for him. He didn’t even have to touch her to know it. His mouth broke free of hers as he ravaged her throat, drinking in her sultry perfume as he lightly nipped at her skin with his teeth. Another soft moan escaped her mouth as she squirmed beneath him. Her fingernails bit into his back as she tried to press her hips against his. Tried to meld her soft heat to his rigid cock. Triumph rolled through every muscle of his body. Eagerly, he worked his way downward with his mouth as she arched her back in an attempt to keep her body joined with his. Cupping a full breast in the palm of his hand, he dragged his thumb across a stiff peak. The small hiss of air she inhaled called out to every predatory instinct in his body.

The rawness of the sound and the emotions gripping him stretched him until he was certain he would explode before he even buried himself inside her. This wasn’t just a simple moment of lovemaking. This was desire at its most powerful, its most base. It fed his primitive need to wipe any trace of the past from his soul. His body hummed for her as he lowered his head again and swirled his tongue around her hard nipple. A whimper of craving poured out of her. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

Deep and dark the emotions rose up in him until he wanted to devour her. Tonight she would help him drive out his demons. His hand slid down her stomach, straight for the white-hot center of her. She tensed at the stroke. His mouth released her nipple, and he raised his head to stare down at her. There was no deception or hesitancy in the depths of her green eyes. Only a naked hunger for him. He was certain no other man had ever seen this look on her face before.

He waited for the ultimate victory.

Her eyes darkened to a deep green, and her expression was filled with a silent plea. Still he waited. Only when she surrendered completely to the passion gripping her would he be able to satisfy this insatiable desire burning its way through his body. Her eyes closed for a brief moment, her mouth forming a small moue as she tried to shift her hips beneath him. When she failed, she whimpered with need.

“For the love of God, Shaheen. Please. I want you. I need to feel you inside me.”

Triumph surged through him. It tightened every muscle in his body with fiery need. He’d drawn from her the one thing he’d wanted most. Her passion. Her open soul willing to mate with his. A decadent madness stormed its way into every limb of his body as he raised himself higher so he could study her. Memorize every inch of her. The moment he pressed himself against her curls, she thrust her hips upward in a silent demand for him. He needed no other invitation.

With a growl that rumbled deep in his chest, he plunged into her. Barely suppressing his cry of pleasure at the way her hot cunny gripped him, he withdrew from her slightly. Ripples convulsed over his hardness as her body clung to his, trying to hold him prisoner inside her. Sensation after heated sensation pounded against his cock as he plunged into her over and over again with increasing speed. God almighty, he’d never experienced anything like this before.

Every part of his body was on fire for her. Staring down into her face he released a groan of pleasure as she arched up into him. The open passion in her expression made her exquisite. Eyes closed, her mouth was parted in small pants of pleasure as a pink tongue flicked out to wet her lips. She was an alluring siren, bowing to his demands, his will—his need. She was his.

“Look at me, ma belle,” he rasped. Her eyes flew open, her gaze blazing with unrestrained pleasure. “You’re mine. You belong to no one else. Say it.”

“I’m . . . Shaheen’s woman.” She panted as he ground his hips against hers. “I belong . . . to no other . . . man.”

The soft words pushed him over the edge as his hips slammed into hers at a blistering pace until a dark cry rolled out of him and he purged his soul inside her.

The heat of the day was in full force as Allegra stood beneath the roof of her tent. Even with all the wall panels raised, there was little fresh air drifting through the dwelling. Staring out at the desert plain, she remembered the ecstasy of last night. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined that lovemaking could be so exhilarating or passionate.

From the moment she’d surrendered and declared she was his, Shaheen had spent the rest of the night pleasuring her almost to the point of madness. His hands and mouth had teased and tormented her until she could do nothing but beg for him to take her again and again. The sheer bliss of it all still sent shivers of delight across her skin. Her nipples grew hard and the soft wool of her gambaz rubbed across them much in the same manner Shaheen’s thumb had done last night.