The Sheikh's Claim (Desert Nights 2)

“But that’s not what I’ve come to do.” Before she could lob back something caustic, and without willing himself to, he dragged her to him, slamming her against his now burning body. “And that’s certainly not the desire I’ve long repressed.”

A hot sound of protest escaped her. He bent, caught it in his lips. He snatched in air laden with her breath, let it storm through him, uprooting the restraints he’d long placed on his senses. He let the feel of her invade his control, tear it away. Her taste eddied in his system, hurtling him back to their nights of delirium.

“No matter what you hate about me, you always loved this.” He poured the words into her open-from-shock mouth, his lips gliding over her plump ones, pushing them farther apart, unable to wait to plunge inside her warmth and welcome. “You craved it. My touch, my hunger, my pleasures. Whatever else was pretense, this was real. Still is.”

“It isn’t…” Her words caught in her throat as soon as her lips moved against his. They trembled before they clung to his flesh.

It had always been like this. One touch had been all it took to ignite them, to start the chain reaction to the mindlessness and ecstasy of their overriding need for each other.

“Yes, Lujayn. It still is. This all-consuming need that ignites between us and only the other can satisfy.”

Her breath hitched as it mingled with his, tumbled from her on a ragged moan of arousal, as his tongue sought her concession. She gave it in a blatant seeking of her own, delighting him in her taste, her response. But at the first rub of slick flesh on flesh, a jolt of pleasure electrified both their bodies, made her start, try to escape the deepening intimacy. The move only had her teeth grazing his lips, tearing a groan from his depths, igniting her response again, her body involuntarily arching into his, their lips fusing again, sending his senses roaring for more.

He walked her back to the nearest wall, pressed against her lushness, imprinted her silent demand with his. “Tell me you have lain at night like I have, burning to have me again, take your fill of me. Tell me you have been going insane like I have. Tell me that you remembered all that we shared the moment I showed up, that even as your lips antagonized me, all you really wanted was for me to fill you, ride you, assuage the ache that maddens you.”

He raised his head, looked down at her to get her confirmation. He got it.

She still wanted him. She’d never stopped.

It showed in the burning desire and dismay in her eyes. Whatever she’d been telling herself since she’d left him, her explosive response to him had forced her to face facts.

Holding her eyes, still seeking her affirmation, he scooped her into his arms. She clung to him, gave him more proof of her consent.

His heart almost uprooted itself in his chest with relief and urgency as he almost ran with her filling his arms, her eagerness tugging him deeper into mindlessness. It was only when he lowered her onto a king-size bed that he realized that his feet had propelled him to the master suite.

He came down half on top of her, stopped her roaming hands, stretched her arms above her head, capturing her wrists in one hand. The other slid down her face, her neck, skimmed over her breasts. Then, holding her gaze clouded with feverish desire, he leaned in, capturing her lips at the same moment he snapped open her jacket.

She gasped and turned her head as if suddenly shy, making his kisses trail over the hot velvet of her cheek. At the first suckle of his lips on her earlobe, she arched up, bringing her luxurious breasts rubbing against his chest, shuddering hard at the electrifying contact, intensifying it.

He rose to let her expression guide him to his next action. She stared up at him, her eyes emitting those hypnotic bursts, her breath choppy, her nipples pushing through her bra and blouse.

Satisfaction spread at the explicitness of her response, heightened as a gasp of disappointment escaped her when he sat up. His smile placated her as he shrugged away his jacket. Then, analyzing every iota of expression in her eyes’ eloquent depths, he slowly, so slowly, unbuttoned his shirt.

His deliberateness gave her time and opportunity to take action if she didn’t want this to go further. Gave him the luxury of studying her as she watched him expose his body to her. The body she’d worshipped for four years, laid her indelible brand over every inch. He reveled in each of her nuances as hunger and memories flooded her eyes, igniting them, swelling her lips, staining her cheeks.

“Isn’t this what you’ve been burning for?” Her nod was drugged, her eyes glazing over as silent confession strummed her voluptuous body, shook her lips. He brought her hands pressing against his flesh, one over his thundering heart, the other over his abdomen, which quivered with need. When her volition took over, he invited her to go lower, groaned long and deep as she shaped him, cupped him, in trembling greed.

He hissed his torment, encouraging her, his mind unraveling with the sheer power and pleasure of her longed-for touch, and that of her desire. “Feel me, Lujayn. Take what you’ve always wanted. Enjoy me, revel in me. Devour me with your hunger like you used to, ya’yooni’l feddeyah.”

A jolt racked her at hearing him call her one of his favorite endearments for her, my silver eyes. Their intoxicated cast deepened until they were the color of twilight in Zohayd. Snatched breaths escaped her lips as she explored him with intensifying boldness, each ending on a fractured moan. His intention to draw this out until she begged for him dwindled with each siren sound. But it was when she squeezed her eyes shut and agonized enjoyment gripped her face as she roamed him, that it vanished.

On a growled oath, he removed her hands from his rock-hard flesh. Before he moved over her, she jerked, as if coming out of a trance and scrambled up. “Jalal, we have to stop....”

He went still. “Tell me why.”

She squeezed her eyes again. “Patrick…”

He caught her head in both hands, made her open her eyes. “Is dead. And you and I are not. But we’re not alive, either. Tell me you’ve been able to truly live…without this....” He took her lips again as he moved his hard length over her until her tension dissolved, into seeking surrender, her body straining against his. He tore away his lips from hers to rise above her on extended arms. “Tell me you have known any real pleasure or satisfaction since me. Say you don’t crave me as much as I crave you and I will go.”

The truth blared in her eyes, but she still said, “Craving is not everything....”

“It’s enough.” He dug his fingers into her prim chignon, setting her raven silk free, burying his face in its luxury. “It’s what we have, what we need, what we can’t fight.”