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Now he had, he was sure he would never have his fill. She was a feast for the eyes. His body reacted in the only way possible. Inside him the hunger cranked up a notch, the need to possess her all-consuming.
When he didn’t move she lifted her eyes fractionally, afraid of what she might see in his. She wasn’t disappointed. Hot appreciation, vivid and intent, blazed out of their dark depths, his chin set rigid as if he was holding himself tightly under control.
Sparks ignited inside her, sparks that fired messages to nerve endings that tingled and buzzed. Flesh responded, exposed skin goose-pimpled, breasts peaked and firmed.
Then his mouth slanted over hers and the feelings were magnified, intensified, as his need fed into hers. She tasted coffee, the desert and passion, the power that was Khaled alive in his kiss as his lips moved over hers, as his tongue explored her depths.
His arms curled around her, pulling her in close to him, his hands warm on the dip of her spine, the flare of her hips, the curve of her breast.
Pressure mounted inside her, pressure that turned the dull ache between her thighs into more like a pulsing imperative. Her hands tangled through the metres of cloth that made up his robes, wanting to feel not his clothes, but his body, firm and hard, next to hers.
And close up she could feel his strength, feel the power of his need as she pressed herself against the firm ridge of his erection.
His head drew back on a shudder as his arms loosened and she looked up, confused, missing his heat already.
‘Sapphire,’ he said, his voice a bare rasp, his breath fast and choppy.
And instantly she was reminded of the times before, when he’d kissed her and pulled away, leaving her reeling and hungry for more and resentful of his control, and she knew that no way was he doing that to her again. She couldn’t bear it.
This was most likely her last night in Jebbai. Her last night with Khaled. Her last chance to satisfy this reckless desire that flared whenever he was near.
Soon she’d be back in Milan, alone in her apartment, no Paolo to console her, nothing to ease her regret for missing out on what she could have had.
So this time would be different. This time he wasn’t leaving her cold. This time he could damn well finish what he’d started.
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.
