The Sultan's Harem Bride

Of course he’d noticed. He’d been fixated on her body since that first tantalising revelation.

‘This isn’t my room.’ Her head swivelled.

‘No, it’s mine.’ There was protection in the bedside table and it was beyond him to last out any longer. Already his hands shook, not from carrying her, but from the effort of not ravishing her on the way.

Gently he laid her on the bed, his heart pounding with anticipation. Her dress flared like liquid silver, draping and cupping her delicious body. Already part of his brain was analysing the best way to rid her of it, even as he took a moment to relish the seductive picture she made.

Without turning, he yanked open a drawer and fumbled for condoms, planting a handful on top of the bedside table. Those amazing eyes fixed on the movement and she swallowed.

Dredging up the last grains of self-restraint, he dropped his arms.

‘I want you, Jacqueline.’ So much his chest felt like it was bound by steel bands. ‘Tell me now if you don’t want this.’ He prayed he had the strength to let her go.

She shook her head and he nearly died. Then she stretched out one slender arm and his pulse revved into life again. ‘I want you too. You have no idea how much.’

No game playing, no flirting, just honest need. Her directness was more arousing than any erotic foreplay.

‘Oh, I think I do.’ Asim snatched her hand and planted a kiss on her palm, then pressed it to his chest where his heart thundered.

In one swift movement he was on the bed, reaching around her for the dress’s concealed zip. She stiffened.

What now? His patience was worn paper-thin from holding himself in check. Was this after all some coy game? Yet a look at her face disabused him of that.

‘Jacqueline?’

‘You first.’ Her eyes didn’t meet his. Instead she fixed her gaze on his high collar as she fumbled to find how it opened. ‘Please.’

No woman had ever asked him to strip for her. Usually it was him watching his latest lover with anticipation.

‘Very well.’ He stood, quickly shucking his shoes, his hands making short work of the fastenings on his jacket. Moments later it dropped to the floor and he hauled his collarless shirt up over his head, flinging it away. His eyes met hers and the current of sexual energy between them almost blew the back off his skull. Her gaze raked his torso as if he’d spread a banquet before her and she didn’t know where to start.

He knew where he wanted her to start. He was hard as the stone quarried to build this palace. His hand dipped to his waistband, his temperature skyrocketing as her gaze followed the movement. Then he thought better of it. Once he was naked this would be over in minutes.

Instead he untucked the end of his silk turban. His hand moved deftly in the familiar task but the intensity of her stare invested it with a sensual significance that turned his blood heavy, making each pulse a ponderous thud that reverberated low and deep.

Eyes holding his, she wriggled off the bed and reached for the fabric in his hand. It arced as she tossed it, a ribbon of bright silk disappearing beyond the bed.

Still she didn’t touch him, though her breath wafting across his collarbone was pure sensual torment. His hands clenched.

Grave eyes held his then she spun around, bending her head, giving him unfettered access. Her nape was dewy perfection, drawing his lips as he unfastened the couple of buttons at her neck then tugged the zip till the curve of her spine was revealed, a sinuous invitation. He heard the click of metal as she undid her belt and it dropped.

‘Yes!’ With one swift movement he wrenched her sleeves down from the wrists so the dress slid off her shoulders to slither with a delicate hiss to the floor.

Creamy perfection filled his vision. He followed the sweep of her back and grinned. No wonder there’d been no line to mar the perfection of her silhouette. His uncertain seductress only wore a thong of champagne lace. It accentuated the perfect ripeness of her derriere and the tantalising swell of her streamlined hips.

‘You’re so beautiful, Jacqueline.’

There was no holding back. One step brought him flush against her, his erection snug in the groove between her buttocks as he bent his knees. Asim kissed her nape, his hands unerringly finding the soft bounty of her small, high breasts.

His groan was drowned by her hiss of pleasure as he rolled her taut nipples between his fingertips and gently bit her shoulder. A judder rippled through her and she stiffened, her breath hoarse. Then her hands covered his, pressing him closer as she arched, her backside pushing against his arousal, obliterating anything like a plan for seduction.

Had he ever had a woman so responsive? He bent further, raking his tongue up her vertebrae, tasting apricots and cream and the hot tang that was Jacqueline.