The Sheikh's Bartered Bride

He needed to move away. Immediately.

This was much too dangerous.

“Do you…”

He waited for her to finish her question, but she didn’t. Instead, her hand, which had been immobile for several minutes, now started a slow slide down his chest.

He should stop her. He knew he should stop her, but that hesitant little hand turned him on as no woman performing the raqs sharqi after years of training in belly dancing had ever done. He waited with heart-stopping impatience for her hand to reach its destination. She stopped when her fingertips reached the top of his boxer shorts. He would not ask her to continue, but waiting to see if she did so was driving him wild.

One tentative fingertip outlined the hard ridge. His sex twitched. Her exclamation drowned out his moan. She yanked her hand back and rolled away from him. Her breath was coming out in little pants.

She stared up at the ceiling, her fingers gripping the blankets with white-knuckle intensity. “I’ve read romance novels, you know? Some of them have pretty steamy love scenes.”

“And?”

“Experiencing it is different than reading about it.” She sounded so perplexed, he smiled.

“Yes.”

“I mean, I didn’t expect to be so nervous.”

“You are a virgin, little kitten.”

Her head turned and gentian blue eyes pinned him. “Why do you call me that?”

“Your name.”

“My name?”

“Catherine. Cat. Only you do not act like a cat. You are more like a kitten. Inquisitive. Sometimes shy. Innocent.”

“Oh. Are all virgins so jumpy about touching male flesh?”

He did not know. He had never bedded one. “You did not touch my flesh.”

Catherine whipped over to face him fully.

Her braid landed heavily against her unfettered breast and he found his attention riveted by the hardened nipples pressing against the almost transparent fabric of her nightgown. So he did not catch her words at first. His brain had to play them back for him to make sense of them.

She had said, “I did touch you.”

He reached out and brushed the back of his fingers against the nipple that tantalized him so. “This is touching you through your gown.” Then he untied the ribbon holding the neckline of her gown together, slowly pulling the ends until the bow unraveled.

She stopped breathing.

He parted the edges of the gown and gently cupped her naked breast, palming the excited peak.

“Oh, my gosh!”

He could not quite smile. He was in too much pain from his need, but he felt the smile inside. She was so responsive to him. So perfect. “This is touching your flesh.”

Her, “Oh,” came out choked.

He knew he was teasing them both because he did not believe he could give her completion without taking her. His control was too close to the edge. Yet, he tormented himself playing with her nipples and caressing the swollen skin around them.

“Can I… Can I…” She repeated the phrase with each rotation of his hand, but did not complete her thought.

“Can you what?”

“Touch your flesh.” The word flesh came out a long, soft moan.

He wanted it. He wanted it very much, but if she did, they would consummate their marriage before the wedding. This would be wrong. He had made a promise. He must keep it. His mind knew the truth, but his libido argued that this was America, not Jawhar. She did not care about the standards to be adhered to by a sheikh of his people, would not care if he broke his word on this.

“It would not be wise.”

“Hakim.” Her tortured cry was loud in the silent room.

He reluctantly pulled his hand from her soft curve, moving to lie on his back. He felt as if he had been hiking in the desert under the noonday sun.

“You go to my head.” He should not admit such a thing. It gave her power over him. Her innocence and eager response to him was too much of a temptation.

Her soft laugh had him turning his head to look at her. Her smile was that of an imp. “I was under the impression I went to other parts of your body.”

“That too.”

She looked so happy with herself, he was tempted to kiss the lips curved so sweetly. Then a wrinkle formed between her eyebrows and she frowned as if in thought. “Are you sure it’s me?”

“I see no one else in the room.”

She bit her bottom lip. “I mean, I read that men wake up feeling that way. Maybe it was just your normal morning reaction, you know?”

He couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing.

The uncertainty in her gaze contained his mirth. He reached out to brush her cheek because he could not prevent himself. “You know book knowledge, but as you said earlier, the reality is quite different. I want you, Catherine. I am throbbing with need, I assure you.”