Читать книгу Captivated by the Sheikh: For the Sheikh's Pleasure / In the Sheikh's Arms / Sheikh Surgeon - Annie West - Страница 13

THE light sea breeze from the open windows cooled Rosalie’s flushed cheeks as he drew her through the arched doorway into his private domain. His bedroom was large, light and airy. At the centre of the back wall was a low bed, wide and sumptuous with its richly patterned coverlet. That was where Arik led her, slowly, inexorably, till it lay before them, a blatant invitation to pleasure.

She swallowed hard, faced with the reality of her desire. Did she have the nerve to go through with this?

But then Arik’s hands were on her, gently compelling, drawing her down to the bed, and there was the promise of heaven in his touch. The lure of long-denied fulfilment. Of joy. Rosalie sank down beside him, leaning in against him without a second thought. For now it was her body responding, not her mind. She acted on instinct alone.

Their kiss was perfect. Growing passion tempered by a fierce restraint she sensed in him. And this time it wasn’t just a meeting of lips and tongues. As he slanted his head to gain better access to her mouth, she felt his hands skim over her. Even through her clothes his touch ignited a desire that sparked and seared. Over the bare skin of her face and neck, across her shoulders, her back, her arms, down her sides and back up to her face. Wherever he caressed her he left a trail of sizzling excitement. It burned across her skin, coiled hard and tight inside her, till she was on fire, desperate for something to assuage the raging need.

Then the welcoming heat of his big body encompassed her, the hard strength of bone and taut muscle.

Automatically she clung to him, revelling in the sensation of his torso pushing her down into the soft mattress. Breathlessly she registered the way his broad chest flattened her breasts, but there was no pain, only a growing edginess, a delicious awareness tingling through every centimetre of her. She wanted to rub herself against him, explore his hard muscled form with her hands, her lips, her body.

She wanted to imprint herself on him and to feel his flesh against hers. She wanted…

‘Rosalie.’ His deep throaty murmur against the corner of her mouth was enticing, seductive. Did she hear it or feel it? His lips brushed her own, caressed the sensitive corner of her mouth, dipped down to the pulse point low on her neck, and she arched up involuntarily, gasping with delight.

The impact of that kiss reverberated to every pleasure point in her body. There was effervescence in her blood, a surge of energy so strong she felt almost faint with it.

‘I’ve waited so long for you,’ he whispered and now she felt his hands move, deftly unbuttoning her shirt.

She opened eyes she hadn’t realised she’d closed and stared up at Arik. He was breathtaking, each severe line of his face, each angle and plane contributing to a whole that was compelling. He was handsome, beautiful even, in a hard, ultra-masculine way. But it was the inner fire, the spark of his personality, and of his desire, that overwhelmed Rosalie. There was a single-minded intensity about him that would have scared her a week ago.

Now she revelled in it.

She wanted Arik so much. Needed him. His expression: eyelids hooded, nostrils flared, mouth a taut line, made something leap inside her.

Then she registered the caress of cool air as he spread wide the sides of her shirt, baring her from the waist up to his gaze.

His eyes lingered on her bra, tracing its curve over her breasts. His gaze was smoky with desire.

‘You are beautiful, Rosalie.’ He lifted a hand and feathered his fingers along the upper edge of her bra.

She jolted at the unexpected intensity of that light touch. Her breath was a gasp of pure pleasure. Without thought she arched her back, silently begging him to repeat the gesture.

‘And so exquisitely responsive,’ he murmured as he again stroked the upper curve of her breasts and her eyes fluttered shut.

His tone was appreciative, knowing. It reminded her for an instant of the gulf of experience between them.

‘I’m not protected,’ she blurted out, then bit her lip as a fiery blush rose in her cheeks.

‘Of course it will be my responsibility to protect you, little one.’

His gentle tone persuaded her to open her eyes. His gaze met hers and suddenly the embarrassment she’d felt a moment before was gone. She took a slow breath, saw the way his expression flickered at the deep rise of her breasts, but forced herself to go on.

‘I don’t have much…’ Experience, she’d been about to say. But then she’d been pregnant, had given birth. He wouldn’t understand. And she didn’t want to enter into long explanations, not now. ‘It’s…’

‘Been a while?’ he finished for her, his gaze piercing. ‘Don’t worry, Rosalie. Once learned, the lessons of love aren’t forgotten.’

That was what she was afraid of. Maybe she’d better tell him. She opened her mouth reluctantly but he forestalled her.

‘Between us, little one, it will be easy.’ His deep voice was reassuring and his slow smile reminded her that she could trust him. His eyes glowed with an excitement that matched her own. Could she ask for more?

Again his hand traced the outline of her bra, then dipped lower to find and tease her nipple through the cotton fabric.

She sucked in her breath in a hiss of surprised delight. Who’d have guessed such a touch would make her feel…?

‘Perfect,’ he murmured as he lowered his mouth to hers. ‘It will be perfect with us.’

Then there was no more thinking. No more worries. No embarrassment. There was only the hot dark velvet of his kiss, the rising excitement as his hand grew heavier, more demanding at first one breast and then another.

She could grow addicted to Arik’s touch. So sure, so sensitive. Her body clamoured for more, pushing up against his hand, his body, relieved and yet unsettled at the weight of him over her. It was what she wanted, but it wasn’t enough.

When he drew back a fraction, her hands clung to his shoulders, her mouth throbbed from the passion that had soared between them. A passion reflected in the blaze of his eyes and the heave of his chest with every breath he took.

The last lingering shadow of doubt fled. She knew this was right.

‘I want to touch you, Rosalie.’ Arik was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. He teetered at the edge of his control, fiercely resisting the relentless urge to rip her clothes away and bury himself quick and deep in her soft waiting warmth.

He’d known urgent desire before, had more than enough experience to be able to temper his urges to ensure his partner was satisfied. Until now. The intensity of each sensation, the effect of watching Rosalie come alive at his touch, breathless and eager and somehow vulnerable, was something completely new to him.

His body felt as if it were on a rack, stretched almost to breaking-point by the weight of restraint placed upon it. Each muscle and sinew was stretched to the limit. But there was no alternative. He remembered the instant of doubt he’d seen in Rosalie’s face and knew he had no choice but to love her slowly. Even it if killed him.

Gently he pushed her shirt from her shoulders. She shrugged out of it and he tossed it away.

‘Touch me,’ he ordered, hungry for the feel of her against his bare skin. For a moment she didn’t move and then, slowly, so slowly he wanted to reach out and yank her hands against his chest, she reached up to him. Her fingers fumbled with a button. And then another. And then her hand slipped into his shirt, right over the spot where his heart pounded its message of hunger and painful control.

His eyes closed as he absorbed the sensation of her hand across his chest.

‘More,’ he demanded. The gentle exploration faltered and then, a moment later, her fingers worked his shirt buttons again. This time quickly, nimbly, and he sucked in a breath of relief. Another hurdle passed.

He waited till his shirt hung open, then shrugged his shoulders and shook it away. Opening his eyes, he found her staring, absorbed, as if committing to memory the sight of his bare torso. The look in her eyes did dangerous things to his ego. He felt like a hero, a god, not an ordinary man, when she looked at him like that.

She moved her hands over his chest, up and across, then circled down over muscles that spasmed at her touch. His arms trembled at the effort of remaining still under her caress.

‘You’re beautiful,’ she breathed.

‘No, Rosalie. But you are.’ He couldn’t resist the lure of such temptation any longer. He reached out and slid his hand behind her, making short work of her bra clasp, drawing her plain white, ridiculously seductive bra away in his hand.

There was a hiss of frantic breath. A moment of stunned appreciation, and then he was touching her, stroking his index finger under the curve of her full, luscious breasts, up between them, then down and across the rose-pink nipples that tightened into buds at his touch.

She was exquisite. Perfect. And the little tremors vibrating through her at his caress were delicious proof of her incredible sensuality.

He palmed one breast, felt its weight in his hand, smiling at the exact fit. Hadn’t he known she’d be just right? His fingers tightened on that sensitive bud, twisted just a fraction, and her whole body jolted.

It was as if she’d been waiting just for him. The thought was ridiculous, but an inviting fantasy, one he couldn’t quite shake.

Her breath came in shallow pants, the sound of it igniting a heat deep in his loins. He was hard with desire, had been since lunch, when he’d tasted her in his mouth, had invited her to taste him. But now he’d reached a point where control was almost impossible. He let himself move across her body, insinuating his thighs between hers till he lay cradled against her, his erection throbbing its intent.

He didn’t know if he could hold out much longer. But then he looked into Rosalie’s face and read the stunned blankness there. She wanted him, but something, the furrow of surprise on her brow, gave him pause.

So he did what he’d wanted from the first—lowered his head to her breast. The fresh scent of her rose in his nostrils and her velvet-soft skin was a living caress against his chest.

He kissed her nipple, holding her tight in his arms as she almost came up off the bed in response. It was as if he’d triggered an earthquake deep inside her. The shudders echoed through her as he laved her breast. When he took her nipple in his mouth and sucked, her moans grew frantic. Her hands clenched against his skull as he tasted her sweetness, then moved to her other breast.

Restlessly her legs shifted against his and he allowed himself the luxury of pushing down against her, feeling her intimate heat against his erection, even through their clothes.

Soon.

His control was shredding, spinning away as his pulse thundered louder in his ears.

‘Arik,’ she whispered, ‘please…’

Without thought his hand arrowed to the button on her trousers, the zip, pushing it down. He lifted himself a fraction from her as she tilted her hips and he stripped the cotton material down her thighs—enough to give him free access to the place he most wanted to be.

‘Please,’ she whispered again and he planted his palm between her thighs, pushing up against her sensitive core.

‘Arik!’ Her voice had a husky, sensual quality he loved, but when he raised his head to see her face he wondered if it was panic or delight he read on her features.

‘Shh, it’s all right, Rosalie. Just relax.’ Her blind eyes turned to his and gradually focused. A jab of something that had the force of lightning struck right through him, making his heart leap.

Her hands slid down to cradle his neck. They were unsteady, shaking but warm and gently sensuous as they massaged his stiff muscles.

He searched her most secret place, circled and found the point he was seeking. She was hot, wet, ready.

‘Arik? I don’t—’

‘Trust me, Rosalie.’ Whatever her past sexual encounters, it was clear her experience hadn’t included much pleasure. The realisation brought anger. And a deep protectiveness, a need to ensure this was absolutely right for her.

She opened her mouth to respond as he stroked her slowly, surely, and suddenly she gasped. The light tremors that had been racing through her body became shudders. She bucked up against his hand with a force that belied her small frame. And her gaze clung to his—jade-green, brilliant and intoxicating. He could drown in that gaze, watching her come apart just for him. The thrill of it, of her body arching into his, the sound of his name on her lips again and again as she sighed out her delight, was better than anything that had gone before.

Her eyes drifted shut as the last of the vibrations subsided. His own body was on fire, desperate for release, after the heady sensations of Rosalie’s climax. He slid his fingers between her legs and another aftershock racked her.

So incredibly sensual.

Gently he leaned down and took her mouth with his. Her response was instant, her lips opening to his, even though her movements were slow, languorous. He delved deep into her mouth, allowing himself the freedom he hadn’t yet had with her body.

She moaned and tilted her head towards his, her fingers spreading out over his shoulders. Automatically his lower body pressed in against hers, right into the hot centre of her, and light spun behind his eyelids at the sensations of pleasure coursing through his body.

Their kiss held a different, richer quality now as she responded to his lead with a ready sultriness that urged him to deepen his caresses. The taste of her was designed to drive any man out of his senses. And the way she held him tight with her hands, the way her luscious body cushioned his, accepting and matching the insistent push of his erection against her, made his head spin.

At last he drew away, far enough that her hands broke their hold and slid slowly, provocatively down over his chest. Her eyes were closed, her lips plump and pink with the force of their passion. A wash of colour spread across her breasts and up her cheeks, highlighting her delicate features. She breathed deeply and for a moment he was riveted by the sight of her perfect breasts, rising and falling. Hair like dawn gold flared across the silk coverlet, softer and more enticing than any man-made fabric.

Who was this woman who’d appeared out of nowhere just days ago? Who’d taken over his life? Absorbed his every waking hour and burrowed deep into his emotions?

She was a miracle.

He pushed himself up and away on his arms, then knelt to strip the last of her clothes from her. The heady scent of female arousal registered in his nostrils, inciting him to move more quickly.

It was the work of a few moments to remove her clothes, and his own, and reach for the protection he’d promised her.

Rosalie’s world had tilted completely off its axis. She’d spun crazily out of control in Arik’s arms as he’d brought her to a juddering, mind-blowing climax. It had been all red-hot light and heat, searing her body till she’d thought there’d be nothing left of her but ashes. Only Arik, his gaze holding hers, his body anchoring her to the spot, had brought her back to something like safety again. If it hadn’t been for the link between them she felt she might have died from pure ecstasy.

His dark eyes had been the only real thing in her consciousness, other than the impossible burst of fire in her blood.

And now she felt…she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to give a name to the sense of wellbeing, of effervescent excitement that filled her, but she couldn’t.

Her body was weighted, yet tingling with life. She stretched, registering for the first time the slide of the luxurious coverlet beneath her body. Her bare body. Arik had peeled away the last of her clothes just a moment ago.

Rosalie snapped open her eyes, anxious now that she couldn’t feel him against her. But when she located him she swallowed hard.

He stood beside the bed, feet planted wide in a stance that was utterly masculine. He was naked, gloriously so, his dark olive skin the perfect foil for his athlete’s body. Every taut muscle and powerful curve was bare for her to see. She stared, fascinated, at the fuzz of dark hair across his pectoral muscles that narrowed and disappeared as it descended. He’d make a wonderful study for an artist. Magnificent proportions, latent power and pure energy from every angle.

But she couldn’t view Arik with an artist’s dispassionate eye. She’d lost that objectivity.

Instead she dragged in an unsteady breath at the image of rampant male libido before her. He thrilled her. And frightened her.

He was fitting a condom. Rosalie swallowed again, her mouth suddenly dry. Surely it would break…it couldn’t possibly…but it did. She felt her eyes widen.

He looked up and smiled at her, a tight, lopsided smile that nevertheless had the power to unravel some of the spiralling tension inside her.

‘Rosalie,’ he murmured as he took a single stride to the bed and knelt above her. ‘My beautiful golden girl.’ He raised her limp hand in his and kissed the palm, nipping at the fleshy part of it till a spear of heat arced straight from her hand to her womb.

How magnificent he was: so at ease in his flesh, each movement economical yet with an innate grace. The dark bronze of his body was in contrast to her own paler skin and as he lay down beside her she was fascinated by the sight of his large long-fingered hand splaying possessively across her body. Who’d have thought anything so simple could be so erotic?

Butterflies swooped in her stomach at the spreading sensation of warmth deep inside her. She felt his leg brush hers, the hair on his thigh wiry and tickling. Then he bent his head and planted a kiss at her navel.

Seismic waves spread out from the point of contact, making her shiver. The sight of his head bent over her so intimately made her conscious again of the moist heat between her legs. The empty, needy sensation.

He nuzzled her belly, planted a string of kisses across to her hip and set the butterflies dancing again inside.

She shifted uneasily, aware of a renewed urgency in the signals her body was sending to her brain.

He lifted his head and smiled, a knowing smile if ever there was one.

‘You like it when I kiss you here?’ He dropped his mouth once more to her waist, her stomach.

She reached out and tried to pull him up, edgy again and unsure of herself. She shouldn’t feel like this again, surely.

‘You don’t like my kisses?’ His tone was teasing but his face was set in harsh lines of desire. The flame of arousal was hot in his eyes.

She opened her mouth to answer, but something stopped her: a knot of hard, tight emotion that blocked her throat. He was so gentle, so tender. He treated her as no man ever had before. Heat glazed her eyes and she shook her head.

‘Rosalie?’ His tone was abrupt as he levered himself higher, the better to see her face.

For answer she wrapped her arms round his shoulders and lifted her lips to his, opening her mouth and giving herself up to the ecstasy that beckoned. Giving herself to him.

For a long moment he held himself rigid above her. Then, as her tongue danced against his and her hands swept in wide circles down over his back, he settled closer. She revelled in the smooth texture of his skin against her hands, and in the sensual friction of his chest hair brushing her breasts. It was…arousing. The press of his large body against hers was an exciting weight. She felt the hot, heavy throb of him between her legs and fascination mingled with trepidation.

‘Rosalie,’ he murmured against her mouth. ‘You drive me wild with wanting.’ Now their kisses were more urgent and the caress of his hands heavier, more possessive. He gripped her hips and pushed forward and she felt the hard length of him intimately against her. Instinctively she tilted her hips up towards him and he growled deep in his throat. ‘You’re a houri sent to bewitch me.’

He raised one hand to her breast, squeezing gently, and she let out a cry of excitement as a flaming arrow of sensation shot through her body. Above the drumming in her ears and the rocking tension in their almost-joined bodies, she heard the whisper of his deep voice in her ear. He spoke in his own language, a lyrical intonation of syllables that flowed like music around her. The words were soothing yet somehow unsettling, urging her closer as he rocked harder against her.

All she knew was him. The clean, earthy fragrance of his skin, the taste of him on her tongue, the feel of him everywhere, and still that yearning, aching sensation that couldn’t be denied.

She barely noticed when he moved, hooking his arm under her thigh and lifting her leg up and over him. But she did register the pressure as he pushed between her legs, nudging up against her, into her.

She froze, absorbed in the sensation of him filling her.

Arik drew back a fraction. She had an impression of flashing dark eyes surveying her, then his head dipped to her breast and all capacity for coherent thought fled. His tongue was on her. His mouth. His teeth. She cried out, a muffled shout of bliss, and cradled him closer, arching her back as he wrought his magic on her body once more.

There was nothing but Arik and the dazzle of stars behind her closed eyelids.

But then, suddenly, there was more. One single, smooth, never-ending surge of movement drew him forward, impossibly filling her. She opened her eyes to see him poised above her, his face almost unrecognisable from the tension that held him so tight in its grip.

For an instant there was no movement but the rise and fall of their chests, each breathing deeply, struggling to find equilibrium.

‘Lift your other leg, sweetheart.’

Slowly she complied, and then it seemed automatically he slid forward a fraction to rest deep within her. Rosalie’s eyes widened.

‘That’s it, little one.’ His kiss was a reward, a glorious, sensuous caress that made her bones melt, even as he moved again, rocking against her.

It felt…it felt…wonderful.

Rosalie slid her hands over the bunched muscles of his shoulders and down to wrap her arms around his back, to hold him close as he pushed forward again. There was something sparking between them, something that made her rise up to meet his next thrust and the next: eager, ready for him.

Their tempo increased, their bodies grew hot, slick from excitement and exertion. Rosalie felt again the welling, tingling sensation in her blood. She heard her pulse roar in her ears, heard Arik’s breathing. Then his mouth closed over hers, his tongue thrusting deep even as he rocked into the centre of her being.

She tasted him, dark and rich. Scented his skin. She was part of him, his body sliding with hers, drawing her into a whirling, rushing storm of glorious commotion.

And then it came—a crashing wave of fulfilment, breaking over both of them. Desperate, she clung to Arik like a lifeline in a stormy sea. He was the one solid reality as her world shattered, bursting apart in a conflagration that shook her to her core. She had no words to express what she felt, only knew it was beyond her expectations, her hopes, even her fantasies.

And the fact that it was Arik gathering her close in strong arms that trembled with the force of their climax, holding her as if he’d never let her go, was most important of all.

How could this happen between two strangers?

It was far more surely than a union of bodies. It felt like a communion of souls.

Rosalie drew a deep shuddering breath, inhaling his heat and his musky scent.

Casual sex wasn’t supposed to be this…perfect, was it?

What had she got herself into?