The Sheikh's Bartered Bride

She shrugged, but it was anything but a casual gesture. “They couldn’t make it better, so they ignored the problem.”

He sensed there was more to it than that and remained silent, hoping she would share it with him.

She looked into his eyes for several seconds, hers glazed with memories he could not see. But he could feel the pain of their impact in her.

Then she spoke. “There was only one way for them to close their eyes to the problem and that was to avoid me as much as possible. We didn’t take family photos for those five years. They frequently entertained away from home rather than risk having their disfigured daughter the cynosure of all eyes. “

Her eyes shone with tears as she blinked away. “Felicity was the only one who didn’t let it matter. She often invited me to stay with her and tried to help me out of the shell I’d crawled into to avoid possible rejection.”

The picture Catherine painted was a chilling one.

“What happened after the laser treatments?”

“They went on a campaign to get me married. I think they believed that once I got a husband it would prove their genes weren’t damaged at all.”

“You resisted.” Harold had said Catherine had refused to consider any of the men he’d brought to her attention.

“I didn’t want pity dates or to be married as a means to an end in procuring a rich and influential father-in-law.”

Hakim’s body tensed. “I do not want your father’s wealth.”

Her smile was dazzling. “I know.”

He could never tell her of the plans associated with their marriage. She would not understand. But he could show her what a desirable woman she wa snow, erasing the painful perceptions shaped by her past.

He stood up beside the bed and looked down at her. She tilted her head back and returned his gaze.

“You said you were not embarrassed for me to see you.”

“I’m not.”

He put his hand out to her. “Then come.”

She hesitated only a fraction of a second before placing her small hand trustingly in his and allowing him to pull her up from the bed.

Sleek, shimmering white satin settled around the generous curves of her body, accentuating each dip and hollow in a way that sent his thoughts scattering to the four winds.

Forcing himself into movement, he turned and poured a glass of champagne. He took a sip of the bubbling wine and then grasped her shoulder, pulling her body into his so that the gentle roundness of her bottom pressed against his thighs. He placed the glass against her lips at the exact spot from which he had sipped.

“Share with me.”

She allowed him to pour the champagne onto her tongue and then she swallowed. His hand drifted from her shoulder to cup her left breast. The nipple beaded against his palm, straining against the silky fabric and she let out a small moan.

He fed her another sip of champagne while squeezing the soft flesh in his hand. He continued the sensual torment until her head tipped back on his shoulder and her breath was coming out fast and strong. He transferred the glass to his other hand and began the same kneading motion on her right breast. He put the champagne to her lips, smiling as she drank mindlessly while her body writhed to his touch.

By the time the glass was empty, her moans were load and her tender peaks were hard like pebbles. He dropped the glass to the carpet and cupped her creamy fullness with both hands, drawing his fingertips together until both her nipples rested between a thumb and forefinger. He pinched, gently.

She screamed, arching her body into his touch.

He rotated the excited flesh, ignoring her pleas to desist, to do it harder, and finally to make love to her. He wanted to draw this out, to give her more pleasure than she could imagine. His own body ached for a release he refused to give it. L

“Please, Hakim. Please… Please… Oh, you have to stop. No. Do it harder.” Her head thrashed from side to side against his shoulder. “I can’t stand it!”

“But you can. Your body is capable of great pleasure.” He whispered the words into her ear, knowing the warmth of his breath would add to her passionate enjoyment.

“Then please me,” she implored.

Without warning, he dropped one hand down to her thigh and discovered something he had not noticed before. Her gown was slit all the way up her hip. Primitive satisfaction flowed through him as he delved beneath the satin to tangle in the dewy curls at the juncture of her things.

“Oh!” She tipped her pelvis toward his hand and his forefinger slipped onto the slick bud of her femininity.

He circled it once. Twice. And she came apart, her screaming echoing in the room as her body shuddered in ecstasy against his own. He continued to touch her until she convulsed again and then shook with each light stroke of his finger.