The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride

`Kiss me properly,’ she demanded against his lips as frustration surged in a red hot tide. She pulled back a fraction to meet his eyes. `Please, Rafiq.’

Her body throbbed with unfulfilled need. Surely it wasn’t too much to ask just one proper kiss?

Belle watched his lips slowly curve up in a smile of satisfaction that deepened the sexy grooves beside his mouth. A dangerous smile. Her heart thudded a rapid tattoo of exhilaration and trepidation. His eyes darkened, a possessive glitter igniting in them as his arms wrapped round her, binding her tight against him.

Yes! This was what she craved. She sighed as he bent his head to hers.

Everything about this kiss was different. The searing energy that pulsed between them, the erotic stroke of his tongue in her mouth that made her shudder in response. His masterful stance as he bent her back against his iron hard arms, the spiraling tension that twisted faster, tighter, more urgently with every beat of her racing pulse. He took control of the kiss with the deliberate passion and seductive expertise she’d sensed in him from the first.

Dazedly she gave herself up to a sensuous embrace that made her forget everything except the desire throbbing between them. Her whole body flamed as he made love to her with his mouth, his hands, his whole being. The sensations were exquisite and shattering. She felt as if he bound her to him body, mind and soul.

She was melting, clinging to him as he absorbed her essence with his kiss. And gave her in return more than she’d ever dared hope for.

Eventually he lifted his head. The blaze of sensual exhilaration she saw in his eyes trapped her gaze and stopped her breath. Gone was the polite distance, the discipline and the control that had marked his every action. Instead his expression was fiercely intense, searing her with its potency.

A thrill of primitive excitement coursed through her.

Ì thought you’d never ask, habibti. You are the most stubborn woman I know.’

In one swift, lithe movement he bent and lifted her boneless form into his arms. His heat was all around her, binding her close, so she felt the thud of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the power of his muscle hard body.

Ànd you’re all mine,’ he murmured with a growling, masculine satisfaction that brought her back to shocked reality with a sudden nerve splintering jolt.

He turned and strode across the room, carrying her towards the wide, luxurious divan that filled one wall.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rafiq felt her stiffen. Silently he cursed himself for giving voice to the rampant possessiveness that had torn at his precarious control all day.

He’d fought to repress it, to act as a civilized man. But it had been a losing battle ever since he’d seen her wearing that distinctive gold and diamond collar, symbol of their marriage. Of his ownership.

From that moment she’d been his. It wasn’t the wedding ceremony that bound them, or the public congratulations of their people. It was the sight of her, adorned by al Akhtar gold, her eyes skimming away as she placed her hand in his. Her fingers had been cool, trembling, and he’d felt a surge of triumph so strong it had rocked him. And underlying it was an even more powerful desire to protect. She’d put her life in his hands, and he wouldn’t fail her.

He’d barely been able to restrain the surge of sexual need that roared through him. Only by retreating into the safety of rigid decorum had he been able to keep his hands off her. To get through the day’s interminable formalities without dragging her into the nearest unoccupied room and taking her with all the urgency of his escalating desire.

Now she was his. That kiss had sealed it. Exhilaration fizzed in his blood and tightened his muscles.

Shimmering satin molded the sleek curves of her slim body. Its sheen was like water on priceless pearls, accentuating her allure.

He’d take exquisite delight in stripping it off her-soon.

But now it seemed there was one more hurdle to overcome. Belle still fought her destiny.

`Rafiq!’ Her voice was husky, drawing heat to his taut lower body.

`Put me down.’

Just what he had in mind. The divan in this suite was enormous, and soft enough to cradle her body. Personally he wouldn’t have cared if they’d had only a carpeted floor, or even the desert sand, at their disposal. As long as he could lose himself in her.

Ignoring the compulsion to hurry, he lowered her gently to the divan, positioning himself to lie beside her, propped on one elbow.

Her hair flared bright as gold over the silk coverlet, and the fresh, sweet scent of her filled his senses. Her breasts rose and fell with an arousal she couldn’t hide, despite the anxiety in her wide eyes.