The Sultan's Harem Bride

She gulped as need and trepidation vied for supremacy. She couldn’t bear it if he pulled back now. ‘I just can’t wait.’

Jacqui reached down to find him already sheathed and her pulse raced even harder. He was heavy and thick in her unsteady hand. She fumbled and almost sobbed in desperation, hating her inexperience.

Asim brushed her fingers away. Seconds later firm hands cradled her hips, guiding her as he thrust up in a long, slow surge of power that halted when she gasped. Jacqui couldn’t help it—the feeling of impossible fullness stole her breath.

‘Jacqui?’ Asim’s voice was husky with disbelief. ‘Is this your first time?’

She clutched his shoulders, panic rising. She’d come this far, further than she’d ever been with any man, and she wanted it all, with Asim. All these years wondering and now...

‘Sorry to disappoint.’ She snagged another breath, feeling the tension in her body begin to ease. ‘It’s just been a while.’ If she told him she was a virgin he might stop and she couldn’t bear that.

Still he scrutinised her, his brow pleating, and she sensed his doubt. She licked her dry lips, her whole body trembling, waiting for rejection.

After what seemed an eternity he pulled her gently down, filling her inch by slow inch. She had to fight not to let her eyes bulge at the amazing sensations.

He watched her face like a hawk. His jaw was set, his nostrils flared, but it was the look in Asim’s eyes that made her heart clutch. He held her captive with those eyes and she never wanted to be free.

Tentatively she rocked her hips, feeling the friction and the heavy throb of pleasure. When she did it again strong hands clasped her, helping her find the elusive rhythm.

He urged her high as he withdrew and bucked up, reaching, she was sure, right to the core of her. Lightning shimmered across her vision. Once, twice and she started to shake. A third time and her legs liquefied.

A tumble of movement and she was on her back, pressed deep into the bed, her vision filled by Asim. His eyes holding hers, his lips drawn in a grimace of pained pleasure, he thrust one more time and the world shattered in colour and light and sensation, overwhelming her.

Shuddering at the delicious shockwaves, Jacqui clutched him close as he powered on and, with a roar of triumph, reached his own pulsating climax.

The awesome force of his orgasm deep within and the juddering intensity of his steaming hot body surrounding hers smashed open some unseen barrier. Jacqui felt tenderness and an unprecedented tug of protectiveness.

She cradled Asim tight with the last of her strength. With trembling fingers she stroked his thick hair while he shuddered in her arms, his breath hot in the valley between her neck and shoulder.

Later they lay entwined, her head on his shoulder, his arm draped around her waist, his other hand spread on her thigh, holding her to him.

‘Jacqueline, are you sure you’re all right?’

Jacqui smiled drowsily, a delicious shiver rippling through her at the way he said her name. He made it sound mysterious and feminine, and for the first time in her life somehow...right.

‘All right? I’ve never been better in my life.’ She threaded her fingers through his. ‘Thank you, Asim.’

* * *

Jacqui hurried down the wide corridor, grateful for her flat shoes. If she’d tried to run in the heels she’d worn last night...

She put a brake on her thoughts. Last night was over.

Asim had made that clear when he’d discreetly left her to wake in his bed alone. And she’d been grateful. She had no experience of mornings after and she’d needed time to process everything.

Heat swirled in her belly. Last night had been extraordinary. Magical. She’d felt desired and desirable, sexy and treasured. She’d woken to a sense of well-being that eclipsed grief and doubt. She was grateful to Asim for that gift.

Her gift to him would be proving she had no unrealistic expectations. He needn’t fear she’d read too much into kindness and passing attraction.

For him, that was. For her... Well, it hadn’t passed. The night together had only made her eager for more, despite the slight ache between her legs. She stifled a smile, remembering in glorious detail her unaccustomed exercise.

Jacqui buttoned her jacket and strode faster. She was late. Her visit to the old harem baths had been fascinating and the female historian informative. But, when the woman had learnt Jacqui had never experienced a traditional Jazeeri bath and massage, she’d insisted that be righted immediately. She’d said Jacqui couldn’t write about the process unless she experienced it.

So for the last several hours Jacqui had been bathed, exfoliated, rinsed, covered in herbal concoctions, massaged and scented till she glowed. Every pore felt alive and she was preternaturally aware even of the scrape of cloth over her tingling body.