Bride Behind The Desert Veil (The Marchetti Dynasty 3) - Page 12

Even though he never made love without protection.

Her hands went to his chest, palms flat. ‘I trust you.’

I trust you.

No women—no person—had ever said that to him before. He had never been in the business of fostering enough intimacy to invite statements like that. Until now.

But he didn’t want to dwell on that. Not when every muscle in his body was screaming with the need to join his body with this woman’s.

He forced himself to say, ‘Are you sure?’

She nodded. ‘Please—I want this. I want you.’

He found the slick folds that parted, oh, so easily when he pushed against her, and couldn’t help the low groan of intense satisfaction when he sheathed himself inside her silky tight embrace again. The fact that this didn’t just feel like sex was also something he didn’t want to dwell on.

He forced himself to control his thrusts, letting her get used to his body. He knew he was big, and he could tell she was inexperienced—even if she wasn’t a virgin.

Gradually he felt her body adjust to his, saw the way her cheeks flushed a darker pink. The way she bit her lip. The way she moved under him, lifting her hips. Her hands explored him, and if she wasn’t careful she was going to push him off the edge way before he was ready.

He caught her hands and raised them above her head, linking their fingers. He said, ‘Spread your legs wider for me.’

She did, and he sank even deeper. She let out a low moan. Sharif let her go and slid his hand under her back, arching her up so that he could find and suck one hard nipple into his mouth, rolling the taut peak before nipping gently.

Her movements became more frenzied, and he felt the telltale flutters along his length as he drove deep and hard. Sweat sheened their skin as they raced to the pinnacle, and it took more control than Sharif had ever had to call on in his life to ensure that she reached it before he did.

She arched up, her whole body taut like a bow, as her orgasm held her high before ripping through her body all the way to her inner muscles, which clenched so hard around Sharif that he was no longer capable of holding back the flood of ecstasy that wiped his brain clean of every single coherent thought.

Today

Liyah woke with a start. She was lying in an unfamiliar bed in unfamiliar surroundings and her body felt...

A rush of heat flashed through her mind when she recalled where she was.

And with whom.

The nameless man.

He was lying on his front beside her, but not touching her. One arm was carelessly hanging over the edge of the bed, the other was bent up over his head. His face was turned to the side, towards her.

Even in sleep he looked fierce. Strong. The stubble lining his jaw was darker...

Her wide awake gaze—tracked down over the sleek muscles, no less impressive at rest. Those narrow hips. His buttocks—firm. A pulse throbbed between her legs when she thought of the sheer power of his body thrusting into hers, so deep she’d seen stars.

A wave of emotion took her by surprise. After her first dismal sexual experience in Europe she’d suspected that there might be something wrong with her. But after last night...

This man had restored a very wounded part of her soul. And her confidence. He’d looked at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. He’d touched her as reverently as if she was infinitely precious, and then he’d made love to her as if he had been starving for something only she could give him.

She’d fallen into a pleasure-induced coma after that first time and had woken in his arms to find him carrying her over to a steaming hot bath that had been hidden behind the screen.

She hadn’t even been aware of how tender her muscles were until she’d felt the hot water soothe them. Still stunned after what had happened, she’d been incapable of speech. He’d climbed into the bath behind her, spreading his legs down alongside hers, and had tucked her hair up in a knot before soaping her all over, his big hands making her feel delicate and precious for the first time...ever.

She’d turned her head, afraid of the clutch of emotion in her chest—afraid of what it meant and that he’d see it —and had found his mouth. Firm and hot. She’d turned in the bath until she was straddling him, the silky water making it easy to glide over him and sink down onto his erection. The movement of their bodies, as if they’d been made for each other, had quickened as the fever of lust had taken them over, the water splashing all around the tub going unnoticed in their race to find nirvana again.

She had only the vaguest memory of him lifting her out of the bath, rubbing her down briskly with a towel and laying her back down on the bed, of his steely warmth surrounding her, his hand on her breast...

Yet here she was now. Her bones felt liquid.

She noticed, almost lazily, that there were pink trails in the sky outside, just visible above the opening in the tent.

Tags: Abby Green The Marchetti Dynasty Billionaire Romance
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