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“More.”
His hands slid between their bodies, his fingers swiftly reaching for the hem of her nightdress before whipping it out of the way.
“More.”The word coming out a whimper just as he found the front clasp of her bra—-
“More.”She found herself begging him, desire shredding her inhibitions into pieces until all she could do was breathe and pant for his touch.
Her bra fell to the floor, followed by her panties, but before her passion-clouded mind could take in her sudden nakedness, his mouth had latched on to her nipple and thinking once again became an impossible feat.
Her fingers clutched his shoulders as he squeezed her breasts while suckling harder on her nipples.
Her head fell back.
His mouth moved down.
“Malik...”
And this time, she no longer cared whether the name she was calling out belonged to a man who was her brother in other people’s eyes.
“Malik...”
His mouth found that tiny sensitive flesh hidden under her folds.
And once again, he began to suck.
Her body arched.
“Malik!” A scream. “Oh, Malik.” A shuddering moan. “More.” And lastly, a choked whimper as his mouth destroyed her from below, and her body began to thrash in wild abandon. Orgasm struck like a tidal wave, and all she could do was moan and hold on to him as pleasure threatened to sweep her away.
Later, much, much later, Kyria was only drowsily aware as Malik lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the tub. He washed her with such brisk but gentle efficiency that it was already over before she had enough functioning brain cells to feel embarrassed about the entire process.
When they returned to the bedroom, her last thought was that it wasn’therroom that they had returned to but theirs. She wanted to protest. She tried to protest. But then Malik was kissing her so expertly, and the timbre of his voice so wonderfully soothing as he told her to sleep...
Her eyelids drifted shut.
Tomorrow, Kyria thought sleepily. Tomorrow was soon enough for them to talk, and she would tell him that they should take things slowly.
Tomorrow.
But when tomorrow came, the exact opposite happened.
Kyria stirred into consciousness as the steady sound of knocking slowly penetrated her mind. She stretched and twisted in her bed, thinking that it felt a lot bigger—-
Oh!
She shot up to a sitting position, and her worst fears were confirmed. She wasstillin the sheikh’s bedroom, and someone was knocking on the door—-
“Good. You’re awake.” Malik came out of the en-suite shower, a white towel wrapped low on his hips, droplets of water still dripping from his hair and down to his glistening body.
Her throat dried at the sight, and the sheikh stopped walking when he saw Kyria staring.
Beautiful.
It was the only word Kyria could think of. Every inch of Malik Al-Atassi was beautiful.
The gleaming ebony shade of his hair, the exotic darkness of his eyes, the chiseled perfection of his face-—
Beautiful.
