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She anchored her arms around his neck and pulled herself tight up against him. ‘Khaled,’ she whispered, her lips close to his ear, pressing tiny kisses along his throat, nipping his skin with her teeth and pressing her breasts into his chest. ‘Make love to me.’
CHAPTER TEN
HE SEEMED to hesitate a moment, almost as if he didn’t believe what he’d heard. But only for a moment.
Then his eyes sparked white heat and he uttered something low and guttural, the words indiscernible to her but his intentions clear. He collected her in his arms and lifted her out of the circle of her discarded robe, breaching the distance to the bed in three long strides.
He laid her down, amongst the soft covers and tasselled cushions, and knelt beside her, his chest rising powerfully, drinking her in with his eyes.
‘Magnificent,’ he said, his words curling into her senses, feeding the fires inside, as he shrugged off his cloak and tore his headdress away. Then he dipped his head and reefed his long shirt over his back and shoulders, balling it in his hands before flinging it across the tent.
She didn’t see where it landed. Her eyes were on him, on the golden skin of his chest, glowing warmly in the soft lamplight.
His shoulders were broad, his muscles well defined, his skin satin-smooth. She reached out a hand to touch him, spreading her fingers, relishing the feel of his firm abdomen, anticipating what lay below the loose white trousers that were his only remaining garment. Her fingers dropped to the waistband, slipping inside.
Breath hissed through his teeth as one hand whipped out, snaring hers. And what she saw in his eyes—desire, raw and urgent, naked and demanding—edged up her own hunger. He pushed her arm down onto the bed, stretching himself out lengthwise alongside, his leg situating itself between hers, dipping his mouth to hers once more.
Then she was lost in his kisses, lost in his touch and in the heat he generated inside her. There were too many sensations, too much to assimilate, such that all she could think of while he explored her body, setting fires wherever he touched, was that he felt so good.
He felt so right.
His hand cupped her breast, his kisses trailing down her neck until his mouth too was there. Even through the fabric his hot breath hit home, her nipple budding tight between his teeth.
He moved suddenly and reached around her. Then her top was slipping down her arms and cool air met her exposed breasts. Cool air and his hot gaze. He made a sound like a growl, low and deep, before his head dipped first to one nipple, gently lapping, suckling, rolling the nipple, before turning his attentions to the other.
It was torture. Her head rocked from one side to the other. Exquisite torture—but still it wasn’t enough.
His hand ran down the length of her leg, floating down the silken layers of her skirt, and then up again, this time shucking the filmy fabric out of his path. Nerve endings screamed along the length of her body, sending off needle-like charges that speared direct to just one place.
She felt liquid inside, molten, as his hand caressed her thigh—close, so close—and then he touched her there and her back arched as light like a flash bulb went off in the recesses of her closed eyes. His touch was gentle, sensual, erotic and she felt herself responding to him, opening, yielding.
Yet still it wasn’t enough.
‘Khaled,’ she pleaded, her hands tangled in his hair, wanting an end to the waiting, an end to the anticipation. ‘Please.’
He lifted his head from her breast and looked up at her, his dark eyes smouldering, so heavy with intent that it rocked her.
‘Nothing could give me greater pleasure,’ he said, raising himself up to his knees and tugging down his cotton trousers. Her eyes followed the motion, held captive by the sheer beauty of his form, unable to tear her eyes away from his sculpted torso, his flat stomach and down further, where the cotton fabric provided no restraint…
And then he was free and anticipation gave way to apprehension.
He was magnificent.
She swallowed, suddenly less sure of herself. But he allowed her no chance to reconsider as he leant over, his mouth meshing with hers, telling her in no uncertain terms that whatever her concerns, he had none.
She lost herself again in his mouth as he pressed himself close to her and in a few deft moves she realised that her skirt had been efficiently despatched and her legs laid bare. Then his fingers slid under the lace of her thong until even that was slipped away and awareness and expectation washed over her like a tide.
Thigh against thigh. Breast against breast. Skin against skin. They rolled together on the bed, a tangle of limbs, and with the
hot promise of more. And with the last barriers gone, there was nothing to stop them. She was glad. She wanted him inside her, so he could be part of her, so they could be part of each other.
He rolled away suddenly and she felt cold, exposed, until she realised what he was doing. But by then he was back and her mind processed his sensible actions with gratitude and appreciation.
And it meant, oh, it meant that soon there would be an end to this endless aching need.
He held her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly on her eyes, her cheeks, her chin as the seconds spun out in the suspense of waiting for the inevitable.
Inevitable.
