He stopped her words with a kiss.
Christine wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. She couldn't help it. This kiss wasn't anything like the others. This was need and passion and something else sparking. His mouth swept over hers, taking what she was offering and demanding even more. He nipped at her lower lip, took it between his teeth and sucked hard. She angled her head and tried to pull him closer to her. The breeze swept over her skin, warm and dry, but where Arif held her, she felt as if she was glowing hot.
Lifting her up, his lips still covering hers, he carried her a short distance into cooling shade. Smooth stone pressed into her back. She managed to get her eyes open long enough to see he'd moved them into a small grotto.
Pulling back, short of breath, her heart pounding, she stammered, "Snakes."
He gave a low laugh. "Why do you think the cats are here? Now I must have more of your skin." He pulled off his shirt, and she pulled in a breath. He had wide shoulders and more muscles than she would have thought. A dusting of black hair covered his forearms. She reached out and dragged one hand over his flat stomach, staring at the difference between her pale skin and his darker tones, seeing the sapphire ring wink from her finger.
Pulling up her shirt, he put his hands on her and stepped closer. She gave a gasp at the contact of warm skin against hers, at the feathering touches now sliding over her and upwards.
"This is crazy," she muttered.
He pressed a finger to her lips. "A sweet madness. Let it carry you away, habibi."
Just this once.
He didn't say the words, but they echoed in her head. Just this once, don't be sensible. Just this once, go with the flow. He swooped in again to kiss her, stealing the air from her lungs, leaving her dizzy and wanting. She gave a moan, and put her hands on his arms to feel all that glorious muscle and skin. And then her blouse hung open, and Arif lowered his mouth to her breast.
She'd done this much with one boyfriend, had done some serious petting with another, but nothing had ever set her skin on fire. Arif ran his teeth over her nipple, wet the fabric of her bra with his tongue, and she glanced down because she had to see.
He had his mouth on her and one hand behind her. Somehow, he got her bra unhooked, and he dragged the fabric down. He gave a soft growl, stepped between her legs and pulled her up to him, arching her back. She let her head fall back.
In his arms, her clothes half off, she felt more like a holy offering than anything else. Her head spun, and the world narrowed to just the sensation of his mouth on her, the rough heat of his tongue, the small nips from his teeth setting off sparks inside her.
Madness, yes, but a glorious one. It was as if the ruins had put them outside of time—outside of anything. It was just them and the desert heat.
Arif pulled back. His eyes had darkened. He smiled, stepped back, and lifted her foot. Slipping her sandal off, he kissed her instep and then ran a fingernail along the sole. A jolt ran up her leg and into her belly. She'd never known that could happen.
With a smile, he did the same to her other foot, and then ran his fingers up the back of her leg to her knee. "More?" he asked.
She nodded—she couldn't talk. Her mouth felt bruised, her tongue thick, and she was having trouble catching a deep enough breath. His touch was like magic—smooth, soft, teasing, and tempting. He found the waistband of her trousers, hooked in his thumbs and inched them down. Leaning over, he kissed every spot he bared, knelt before her like a supplicant to a high priestess. When her trousers pooled around her ankles, he pressed his mouth to her mound and licked inside.
She gasped. Her knees trembled. Standing, Arif swept her up and onto a smooth, flat stone—an altar or a bench, she couldn’t tell. The heat had warmed the stone, and Arif spread her legs and knelt again between her thighs. He licked in again, his tongue rough and searching. Christine couldn't help the jerk of her hips up to meet that demand of his for more.
"Ah, you are so wet—so welcoming," he said, his voice low and his breathing uneven.
Putting a hand on his shoulder, she told him, "You don't—"
"You are too fond of that word. This is do…no do not. Do enjoy." Before she could answer, he put his mouth on her again, and she lost her thoughts.
A jolt of pleasure ran through her. He'd found her clit, and he tugged on it now, licked and rubbed, and then slipped a finger inside her. She groaned and shifted, but he held her hip with his other hand. The musky aroma of her arousal filled the grotto. She gave herself over to the warmth of Arif's mouth, to the shivering sensations pulsing through her, to the sweetness of his touch.
She'd never felt worshipped—adored. She'd never known anything like this.
Another finger pushed into her—then a third, stretching her wide, pumping into her, pushing her to the edge. With a cry, she let everything go. The world turned white and hot and swept her into small spasms that rocked her body. But Arif would not let up. He pushed his fingers in again—four now. Pushed harder and deeper, hit some part of her core that left her shuddering.
And then he swept her up in his arms, pulled her onto his lap. His erection nudged her ass, and suddenly she wanted more. Wanted the feel of him inside her, stretching her even wider, pulsing even deeper. She wanted him as she had never wanted anyone.
Pulling back, she met his gaze. His lips glistened from her—from where he'd had his mouth. She wet her lips. "What about you?"
Arif smiled. "I am willing to wait. But not for long."
"How about long enough to get back to the palace?"
Chapter Seven