The Sheikh's Bartered Bride

“Oh, Hakim, it’s too much.” Her tormented whisper came just before her entire body went limp in his arms. She would have fallen but for the intimate hold he had on her. He just held her, his sex hard and hurting, but the satisfaction in giving her pleasure so deep, he had no real desire to let go.

Her head turned and her lips pressed against his neck. “I love you.” Her whisper against his flesh was finally too much for his control.

“I want to make you my wife.” Hakim’s growl against her temple barely registered in Catherine’s pleasure sated state.

But being spun around and kissed to within an inch of her life did.

Unbelievably his passion sparked renewed life in the erogenous centers of her body, causing extremely sensitive nipples to tighten almost painfully and swollen flesh to throb. She opened her lisp, wanting his tongue. He did not disappoint her. He conquered her mouth with a sensual invasion that took the strength from her limbs and she sagged against him.

He swept her high against his chest and soon she found herself being lowered to the silk covered bed. Breaking the kiss, he loomed above her, his expression sending jolts of pure adrenalin through her body.

“You belong to me.”

Tears of intense emotion burned her eyelids. “Yes.”

This time when his lips touched hers, the passion was laced with a sense of purpose. He peeled off the silk robe he’d worn out of the bathroom and laid his completely naked body along hers. Hot satin skin inundated her sense everywhere their bodies collided. She started to tremble as if she’d been playing in the snow too long, uncontrollable shivers of sensation wracking her body.

Her reaction did not seem to concern him. Warm masculine lips never parted from her own while talented fingers skimmed the sleek smoothness of her nightgown. She felt as if the air she was taking in was devoid of oxygen.

Breaking the kiss, she tossed her head against the pillows. “Hakim.” She could not form another word, just his name.

He reared up above her, gloriously naked, gloriously male. “It is time. ”

The words were ominous. Her eyes widened as he leant forward and began the process of pulling her nightgown up her body. She was glad for the subdued lighting as the sudden memory of her physical imperfections rose up to taunt her.

He sensed her miniscule withdrawal immediately. “What is it?”

He’d see soon enough anyway. Perhaps if she told him, the scars would not come as such an unpleasant shock.

“I have marks.” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word scars. “From the summer I grew so fast.”

She could tell nothing from his expression as he finished removing her white satin covering. He then did something that took her completely by surprise. He rose, moving until one foot rested on the floor and one knee on the bed. Then he reached out and pulled one of the scarves from a wall sconce increasing the light in the room by almost tenfold.

Flinching, she felt the desire drain from her like water draining from an unplugged cistern to be replaced by dismay.

“Hakim, please…”

But then her gaze settled on his fully naked, fully aroused body and she forgot to worry about his reaction to her scars in the new and more gripping concern over making love for the first time. Was he as big as he looked or was that her inexperience showing? She wasn’t about to ask him.

That would be mortifying.

New brides did not ask questions like that of their husbands but she had to.

“Are you oversized, or am I just worried?” The words blurted out her mouth, halting the tan hand reaching towards her.

His head snapped up and she could tell she’d surprised him. That was fine with her. She’d downright shocked herself. Could she have gotten more gauche?

He gestured with both hands toward his erect flesh, a rueful expression on his face. “I am what I am. I do not measure myself against other men.” He sounded deeply offended by the very thought.

Well, good on him, but that didn’t answer her question, did it? And anxiety ridden or not, she was beginning to have deep misgivings about proportionate sizes. For the first time since she was ten years old, she felt very small and fragile. It was not an entirely pleasant feeling.

Her gaze skittered to his face. He didn’t look like one iota of his desire had deserted him. In fact, he was looking at her like a ravenous wolf ready for its first meal after a long, hungry stretch. The shaking she had experienced earlier came back, but this time it was liberally laced with anxiety.

Despite his apparent hunger, when he touched her it was with a featherlight fingertip.

He brushed along the thin ridge of raised flesh at the juncture between her arm and body, then reached across her and traced the matching one on her other side. “They are barely an inch long and very narrow. From your concern, I though they would be much bigger.”