The Sheikh's Ransomed Bride

He pressed his palm to the neckline of her gown, luxuriating in the feel of her bare hot flesh. So soft, so delicate. She’d be like that all over, her skin like the velvet of a rose petal. He drew his hand down over the tightly fitted fabric till his palm centered on the nub of one nipple. She gasped as he slowly twisted his hand and a jolt of pure sexual need juddered through him.

His wife was so responsive, so passionate. The pulse of her arousal echoed the throb of his erection.

`Rafiq, no!’ It was a thread of sound, a weak remnant of her normal firm tones. He smiled, knowing this last hurdle was all but overcome.

`Belle, yes,’ he breathed against her ear, flicking his tongue against her neck, tasting her unique sweetness. She trembled as he pressed his lips to her jaw, the corner of her mouth. She groaned, and he felt the rigidity in her legs as he shifted his thigh over hers.

He dragged in a harsh breath. Control. He needed to slow the pace lest he simply tear the dress apart and take her hard and fast, ravage her like some barbarian.

Already his body pushed against hers. His erection was hard against her hip as he slid his leg right across her, imprisoning her thighs with his.

Yes! He’d been waiting a lifetime for this.

He cupped her jaw with his hand, feeling the telltale throb of her pulse against his fingers. Her eyes were huge as she stared up at him.

`We can’t do this,’ she whispered. `We have to stop.’

He shook his head and watched her eyes fix on the fall of his hair around his shoulders.

`We can’t stop this now, Belle.’

`But you don’t really want me. I’m just a political necessity. This marriage is for show.’

Rafiq would have laughed if his face hadn’t been drawn into aching tightness by the force of a need that bordered on desperation. His response was to shift his weight so that he lay, centered over her, pressing himself into the intimate heat of her, reveling in the way her thighs automatically edged apart to cradle him through the layers of their clothes. This was right for both of them. She couldn’t deny that.

Ìs this for show, do you think?’ he rasped from a raw throat. `The way our bodies already welcome each other?’

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes tight shut. He read real distress in her face. It was like a douche of cold water against his burning skin.

He slid his finger gently over the luscious line of her bottom lip, stroking rhythmically till she opened her eyes and met his gaze.

`Why do you fight the inevitable, Belle? You belong to me. You know it’s the truth. Your body knows it even as your mind fights it.’

There was a flicker of something in her eyes, a softening, an awareness that sent a surge of elation through his blood. Then he saw the way her jaw clenched, recognized that determined expression. She’d worn that look on the island, when she’d fought in desperation with the last ounce of her will power.

`We’re attracted,’ she said. `But that’s all.’

That’s all! Rafiq couldn’t believe his ears. That she could dismiss what was between them so easily! She couldn’t be that naïve, could she?

No matter. He had no intention of spending his wedding night anywhere but in his bride’s bed.

`We’ve been thrown together by circumstance,’ she continued, looking over his shoulder as if she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes.

`Let me show you how much this has to do with circumstance,’ he murmured, dropping his hand from her jaw to her breast. Ànd how much it has to do with us.’

Her nipple was hard beneath his hand and he felt her breast thrust up into his touch. Belle couldn’t pretend much longer. She was fighting a losing battle. Her body knew what she wanted even if her mind didn’t.

`Please, Rafiq. Don’t.’ Was that a shimmer of tears in her eyes? He reared back, baffled by her distress. `This isn’t a real marriage. It’s a-a political alliance. A convenience.’ Her mouth twisted on the word and something jabbed deep into his chest. He felt her pain like a physical blow.

` Habibti, you are many things, but never a convenience.’ He stroked the bright hair back from her face and tried to ignore her responsive shiver. His will power was a fraying thread, liable to snap at the slightest provocation. And the sight of Belle, her lips swollen from his kisses, her eyes huge and beguiling, her body trembling with the need she sought in vain to hide, was almost more than flesh and blood could withstand. `You are brave and strong and honest and incredibly sexy.’

His voice dropped to a low rumble. Ànd you are my wife. What sort of man would leave you to sleep alone on your wedding night?’