Rafiq tore open the rest of the buttons in a single ruthless movement, and she sighed, sliding her hands round his torso and nestling against him. His heartbeat was a thunderous tattoo beneath her ear. His chest rose and fell against her with every deep breath he drew. His scent, hot musk, settled around her, and the silk of his unbound hair caressed her face.
So many sensations. But not enough. She craved more. She needed everything from him.
Her tongue flicked out so she could taste the hot, salty essence of him. She pressed open mouthed kisses across his pectoral muscle, finding and nuzzling his taut nipple as her hand strayed lower, following the trail of narrowing dark hair that led down his abdomen. From deep inside his chest came a low, thrumming vibration. She felt more than heard the untamed growl as she reached for the fastening on his trousers.
Then, in a surge of powerful movement, she found herself thrust back against the bed, pinioned by his uncompromising weight. He grabbed her hands in one of his and slammed them back, over her head, onto the silk covers.
`Rafiq?’ Belle loved the feel of him over her, pushing against her, but the move had startled her.
`You must not touch me.’ His voice was a hoarse throb, barely recognizable. His eyes glittered feverishly as he stared down at her.
Not touch him? She frowned. Was this some weird royal protocol she’d breached? She shook her head in confusion.
`Belle-‘ He stopped and closed his eyes. The only sign of his agitation was the iron hard tension in his body and the way his chest heaved.
`Belle,’ he said again, and she heard raw pain in his deep voice. Ì
cannot let you touch me. Not yet. Not if you want to be loved instead of ravaged.’
Excitement pulsed through her, fast and heavy, as she absorbed his words. The idea of being ravaged by him sounded magnificent.
`Rafiq, I- What are you doing?’ She stared as he eased her hands lower and dragged the end of his abandoned headscarf across them.
His thumb stroked tenderly along the fading scar on her wrist and he frowned. `Does it still hurt?’
She shook her head. Her scars had healed well, and soon, she hoped, there’d be no visible sign they’d existed.
He nodded, and carefully looped the soft cotton around both wrists, binding them together.
Belle’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t mean to…?
Sensing her outraged confusion, he paused and looked down at her.
`Do you trust me, Belle?’ The words were softly spoken, but she read the taut stillness in his body as he waited for her response.
For an aching moment the shadow of terror skittered through her, with the memory of her abductors closing rusty manacles around her wrists. But fear dissolved at the sight of Rafiq, the man she loved, painfully tense, his jaw locked in a savage attempt at control, his fingers shaking as he cupped her hands in his. Did she trust him?
She felt her smile spread slowly, inexorably, across her face as she realized just how completely she trusted him. Despite her denials, she’d given him not only her body, but her heart, her whole self, with their marriage.
Ì trust you, Rafiq.’
She saw him shudder in relief. `Belle.’ His thumb brushed her lips, caressed her cheek and throat. She turned her head and pressed a kiss against his palm.
`Please, Rafiq. Love me.’
Something wonderful, bright and exultant, flared in his eyes as they held hers. She felt a burgeoning sense of expectation, and more, of emotional connection.
His mouth lowered to hers in a fleeting, tempting brush of lips and he murmured, `You honor me, Belle.’
Then he shifted his weight and stretched above her, so that her world narrowed to the wall of his chest, centimeters above her, the weight of his legs covering her and the heady scent of him.
There was a gentle tug on her wrists as he drew them back, over her head, and towards the tent pole behind the sleeping platform.
For an instant doubt gnawed at her. How had she agreed to something that left her so much at his mercy?
But then Rafiq slid back down her body and her every nerve clamored for more. His mouth lowered to hers in a slow, lingering kiss that re-ignited her craving for fulfillment. It was the sort of kiss she’d dreamed about, a lover’s kiss that touched her heart as much as her physical senses. If. she hadn’t known it was impossible she’d be tempted to think Rafiq reciprocated her love.
The idea made her head swim. Or perhaps it was the sheer sensual expertise of his kiss.
And as his tongue slid into her mouth, taking possession, he shifted his weight to one side, keeping his muscled thigh across hers. His hand skimmed the sensitive flesh of her neck, her breasts, her waist, brushing to the curve of her hips. She craved his touch, needing so much more than this gentle, gliding caress. She twisted beneath him, only the tie anchoring her hands preventing her from reaching out to pull him closer.