Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3)

He had seen the turmoil on her face just now, as if she was agonising. But now it was clear, determined.

She nodded. And said, ‘Yes. I’m sure.’

Sharif took his hand from hers and put his hands on her upper arms, tugging her gently towards him until he could feel the heat of her body through the thin robe.

Her hair was already starting to curl wildly again. Her green eyes were huge. Unusual, and adding to her striking beauty. Not many had light-coloured eyes in this region. He wondered again for a second who she might be, but then pushed it aside. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was this.

He pulled her closer until he could feel the lush curves of her body come into contact with his. Dio. He felt like a schoolboy with his first woman all over again. What the hell was that about?

She was looking up at him, both hands splayed on his chest now. Lips parting, trembling slightly, her breath coming in little pants that made her breasts move against him.

He bent his head and covered her mouth with his, and even as a part of him was telling himself that this was no different from any other kiss he knew it was a lie.

Her lips were soft, but firm. Like her. All over. And he’d barely touched her but he was drowning. His hands tightened on her arms as if that would help anchor him as he deepened the kiss and tasted her sweetness.

She was hesitant at first, and that only heightened

the eroticism of this relatively chaste kiss, but then she became bolder, matching his exploration with her own, nipping his tongue with her teeth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and came even closer...so close that he could feel the tantalising thrust of her hard nipples through the fabric of their clothes.

He pulled back, dizzy. He needed to see her, feel her. Now.

He must have spoken out loud because she took down her hands and arms and stepped back, dislodging his hold.

And as he watched she pulled his robe up and over her head, and dropped it to the floor of the tent.

He was looking at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. Which was ridiculous, because he had already seen her and she would be an idiot to think for a second that a man like this, who oozed sexuality and confidence, hadn’t looked on lots of naked women.

Liyah’s mouth felt swollen after that kiss. She could still taste him, dark and explicit, on her tongue.

But that black gaze devoured her now, lingering on her breasts, her belly, her waist. And down to the juncture between her legs. Her thighs.

‘Turn around,’ he ordered gruffly.

Liyah did so, welcoming momentary escape from that avid intensity. She heard movement behind her and then felt his heat before she felt him. He was naked.

He pulled her hair aside and over one shoulder. His hands came to her arms again and she felt his breath against her before his lips touched her bare skin.

‘Okay?’ he asked.

His consideration was not something she’d anticipated when she’d behaved so impetuously.

She nodded, and whispered, ‘Yes. Please.’

Please keep going. Transport me from this world, from myself, for tonight, so I don’t have to—

Liyah sucked in a gasp when the man’s arms came under hers and he cupped her breasts in his big hands. His hair-roughened chest was at her back. And she could feel the potency of his hard body. Hard for her.

Heat grew at her core, making her wet. She groaned softly and fell back into him, her legs turning to jelly as one hand left her breast and travelled down, exploring her curves, over her belly to that place between her legs.

He drew her up against him, his erection cupped by her buttocks. With one hand, he explored her breast, fingers finding and trapping her nipple, his other hand gently encouraged her to part her legs, so that he could explore her there. Find the seam of flesh that was the last barrier to the evidence of how much she wanted him. Wanted this.

And then he was there, his fingers opening her up, sinking deep. She clutched at his arm, his hand. Pushing and pulling at the same time. Wanting him to keep doing what he was doing between her legs, but not wanting him to see how much she wanted it.

He whispered against her skin. ‘It’s okay... I know...’

She gave up fighting her response and opened up even more, allowing him to move his hand between her legs, his fingers seeking and finding and thrusting deep into her clasping flesh.

Liyah might have screamed—she wasn’t even sure. All she knew was that he was turning her head so his mouth could fuse with hers as her whole body quivered and shook in his arms, the precursor to the storm he unleashed with a flick of his fingers.