Читать книгу The Sheikh Who Loved Her: Ruling Sheikh, Unruly Mistress / Surrender to the Playboy Sheikh / Her Desert Dream - Kate Hardy - Страница 11

SHE ran her palms across the wide spread of Mac’s shoulders and then down his arms, over muscles that bulged and flexed. His chest was shaded with just the right amount of dark hair that dipped in aV towards the buckle on his belt, below which she knew better than to look. But she couldn’t help herself—she should feel, had to feel, for the fastening on his jeans.

‘Need some help?’

Yes, she did, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Mac’s challenging smile, his strong white teeth, his lips, his tongue, promising far too much pleasure—the humour in his eyes, the pressure from his hands—she wanted everything he had to give her. ‘No, thank you.’ Her heart was pounding. She had to pretend she was up to this when she could hardly breathe. She rested her fingertips lightly on the top of his belt buckle and swallowed deep.

His kiss was still warm on her lips as he backed her towards the hot tub. She was in a daze as she felt the steps behind her heels. ‘Aren’t you overdressed?’ she gasped as Mac nuzzled her neck, oh, so lightly as a prelude to feathering his hands down her naked arms.

‘So? If I am undress me.’

Her eyes widened. She had imagined many things in the lonely wilderness of her bed, but never anything as erotic as the heat and humour radiating from Mac. But when he turned serious and started murmuring to her in a language she didn’t understand she was a little nervous—Or at least she might have been, but her body spoke in tongues—Mac was telling her what he’d like to do to her and in what order. ‘Oh, yes, please …’

She melted into him with a sharp exclamation of excitement. As he brushed a kiss across her neck she felt the promise of so much more, but Mac was in no hurry.

Telling herself she was relieved—that she needed time to handle the sensation of warm hard flesh on naked flesh—she allowed herself to relax against him. Tentatively lifting her arms, she laced her fingers in his hair and felt it spring thick and vital against her palms. This was wonderful. It was all she had ever dreamed of and more. Resting her face against his chest, she inhaled his clean, spicy scent, wanting to use all her senses to print the moment on her mind for ever. For ever—

She heard his jeans hit the floor, and shivered to think of him completely naked, but Mac was smiling against her lips, reassuring her. ‘Why are you trembling?’ he demanded huskily. ‘I’m just a man like any other.’

Now who was dreaming?

As he swung her into his arms she basked in his strength and in his care of her. When he lowered her carefully into the hot tub she was ready for him to join her. He stepped in and moved behind her so she could lean against him, and when he wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck as if they were lovers of long standing, she felt complete.

The combination of red-hot Lucy and warm, silky water was more aphrodisiac than required. He wrapped his legs around her, enjoying her trust as she rested against him, registering the fact that she made him feel warm and centred. More than that, she made him feel at home in a foreign land. That was Lucy’s strength, her talent, he decided—the ability to create a haven, a sanctuary, a home. It seemed wrong that when, for the first time in his life, he wanted to progress a relationship, there was no chance with duty hammering on the door. But until then he would continue to drop kisses on her neck and shoulders and murmur words in his own language for the sheer pleasure of hearing her sigh. Kissing Lucy was equal to drowning in pleasure, and it was taking every bit of his control to hold back.

But then he noticed the silver necklace she was wearing and a worm of suspicion twisted in his gut. Was it a gift? If so, from whom?

It was none of his business—

He made it his business. Looping the dainty chain over his finger, he allowed the tiny silver slipper to dangle free. ‘Who gave you this?’ he murmured in between kissing her.

‘I did,’ she admitted.

‘You gave yourself a Cinderella slipper?’

She shifted in his arms. ‘It’s not that,’ she protested—a little too strongly, he thought. ‘It’s a reminder that one day I’ll wear something other than snow boots.’

He laughed softly, not believing her for a minute as he rasped his stubble lightly across the tender spot at the base of her neck. She laughed too—in between begging him for mercy, but he was touched by what she’d told him. ‘Some day your prince will come,’ he promised as he dropped more kisses on her neck and shoulders.

What if he’d already come—and she couldn’t have him? Lucy thought, starting nervously as Mac cupped her breasts. He had just reminded her that she was inexperienced—far more inexperienced than he had obviously imagined. Mac thought because her breasts were full and silky, along the lines magazines suggested were made to be admired, fondled and adored, she was used to this. If only he knew …

She cried out softly as he abraded the tips of her nipples very lightly with his thumbnails, wondering how she was supposed to remain silent and composed while he was working this sort of magic on her. Her nipples had never been so sensitive, her breasts so full. She was still getting used to the fact that such a level of arousal was even possible—or that such freedom to express how she was feeling inside was possible. She guessed it was because Mac had no inhibitions and he had made her strong—at least for tonight.

Some day her prince would come? He had. But, unfortunately, unlike her dream, he wouldn’t stay—and she had to be content with that.

Content while longing was a new concept. Mac had moved from cupping her breasts to mapping the swell of her belly and now her thighs. The longing was rapidly turning into lust. She had grown warm and sleek in the perfumed water and braver than she could ever have imagined. Sinking lower in the water, she allowed her legs to part in idle invitation—so hungry for him she had no inhibitions left. Mac needed no encouragement—he was already there. Holding her in place with one firm hand, he slipped the other hand between her legs. ‘What do you want, Lucy?’ he murmured wickedly.

‘I want you to touch me,’ she whispered back.

She could feel him smiling against her shoulder as he interpreted that request with such an advanced skill and understanding of her needs it outstripped anything she had imagined possible. She was aware of nothing outside the sensation building inside her. Her whole mind was focused on it, her whole being depended on it. ‘Oh, yes,’ she murmured, moving against his hand, feeling the muscles in his chest bunching against her back. ‘Don’t stop … don’t ever stop.’

With a gasp of surprise she came apart in his arms while Mac held her close. She had never known such release, such a fire-burst of sensation. Mac had woken an unsuspected appetite. She arched her body so he had to clasp her breasts and groaned when he played with her nipples and felt them tighten beneath his touch.

Lucy sighed and sought his lips, breathing whimpers of satisfaction into his mouth as he went on caressing her. He loved the sounds that she made—he loved the taste of her—and the scent of Lucy was like a field of wildflowers salted with fresh alpine air and when that was mingled with sultry bath oil it produced something unique and seductive.

His hunger to please her was growing. His hands embraced her buttocks, which felt so soft and warm and yielding beneath the warm foam. He knew just how to tease her until she clung to him, sighing in need. She was perfection. She exceeded every expectation he’d ever had for a woman. He had never thought to find a partner so candid in her needs or so sensual—certainly not one as faultless and innocent as Lucy. As far as he was concerned, she was woman.

As she timidly edged one leg over his he touched her again. Crying his name eagerly, she grabbed hold of him, but he lifted his hand away. ‘Wait …’ he whispered in her ear, loving the way she quivered just from hearing the suggestions he made. ‘You mustn’t be so impatient. You’ll get it all … Everything you want …’ And he knew exactly what that was.

The water rose and fell around them to the rhythm of his hand. Lucy’s lips parted to drag in air as she gazed at him in wonder. Her beautiful eyes had darkened almost to black, and this time he was going to hold that gaze and watch her pleasure unfold. She tried everything she knew to hold off, but soon gave way, bucking violently and crying out wildly in abandon as pleasure took her over. The motion of her body stirred the water and it cascaded to the floor, but neither of them realised until she quietened and they looked around—and when they saw the devastation they laughed like naughty children.

He wondered in that moment if he had ever felt closer to any woman. Having never felt close to any woman, this was quite a revelation to him. ‘I hope you’ve got enough towels in store to cope with a flood?’ he said, acting stern.

‘How about I use your robe,’ she suggested cheekily.

‘Before you do that you’d better get out of the tub.’ Water fell away from his naked body as he stood. Stepping out of the tub, he reached for a towel and beckoned to Lucy. It made him smile to see she was still a little shy to show him her beautiful ripe body, but he had her swathed in the warm towel before she had chance to be embarrassed. Swinging her into his arms, he carried her into the bedroom.

‘What now?’ she said, a new confidence in her eyes as she smiled up at him.

‘Whatever you’re thinking—double the amount of pleasure involved.’

His kisses in the bedroom were leading one place only, but even as his hands cupped her buttocks, tilting her, so that the very place she needed his attention was pressed up hard against his erection, he was raging against the fact that in spite of all the power he wielded there was one thing he couldn’t change: this first time with Lucy would also be the last. He’d almost decided to stop when she pressed her tiny hands against his chest. ‘I can hear your heart beating,’ she said, and, falling silent, she rested her face where her hands had been.

He had meant to hold her away, but somehow his hand got tangled in her hair, and then the fever was on them both and their hands were everywhere, while her warm breath bathed his naked body. ‘This isn’t right,’ he murmured, his thoughts on the Isla de Sinnebar and duty—

‘Do we have to decide that now?’ she whispered.

Cupping her face in his hands, he used his thumbs to keep her exactly where he wanted as he kissed her again, and this time deeply.

Mac was a lithe, dark prince of the night. She felt so strong when he ran his fingertips over her; he’d made her strong. She’d waited for this moment all her life, but had never expected it to come, Lucy realised as Mac protected them both. She stared at his arms, pinned like steel girders either side of her shoulders, and the hard-muscled torso decorated with a single tattoo that matched the emblem on his ring. ‘I know you’d never hurt me.’

‘You know me so well, already?’ he demanded softly.

‘No,’ she said honestly, ‘but I know I can trust you.’

‘Then know this too—I would never hurt you.’

‘I’m only frightened I’ll disappoint you—I’ve not had much experience—’

‘You could never disappoint me.’ His lips tugged with amusement. ‘Is that it?’

‘You don’t mind about the experience?’

‘You don’t need experience. You just leave it all to me.’

She risked a shy smile.

‘And you’re reassured?’

‘I am.’ She trusted Mac more than she had ever trusted anyone in her life—and for no reason she could pinpoint that made much sense to her; she just did.

She drew in several sharp breaths as he moved in a tantalising pattern that never quite achieved the desired result. ‘Oh, please—I want you so much …’

‘And I want you,’ he husked, catching inside her at last. ‘You have no idea how much.’

‘As much as this?’ Arcing her hips, she thrust towards him, claiming him.

He sank deep into moist, hot velvet. Knowing how much he was stretching her, he took it slowly, while she gasped, looking at him for confirmation that it would be all right. ‘If I’m hurting you, I’ll stop—’

‘Don’t you dare,’ she managed, clinging tightly to his shoulders.

‘How much would you like?’ he demanded softly, teasing her with a kiss.

‘All of you. I want all of you.’ With a final thrust of her body she enveloped him to the hilt.

Moving inside her was way too much pleasure. He had to say the alphabet backwards and write an imaginary shopping list of all the things he’d like to buy for Lucy just to bolster his legendary self-control—and that was definitely a first. She didn’t even attempt to make it easy for him, moving with an enthusiasm that belied her protestations of inexperience. She had a natural talent for sex. She matched his rhythm, adding her own particular twist to what looked destined to become an exhaustive practical examination of the Kama Sutra. Seeing her confidence had grown, he gave her what she wanted. Grasping her hips, he thrust deep and fast until he was forced to muffle her screams of pleasure with a kiss.

She watched him sleeping, wondering if there had ever been a moment of such contentment, or of such wonder and love. Mac didn’t curl up on the bed in her protective ball, he sprawled on his back so that his long, muscular limbs took up most of the available space. He looked so beautiful and so peaceful.

She traced the line of his perfectly sculpted lips with her fingertip, pulling her hand away when he sighed and turned his head slightly. Now she could see where the sweep of his eyelashes cast a blue-black shadow on his face. His ebony brows were slightly upturned, like an exotic warrior of the Steppes … or the desert. Wherever he came from, Mac was a stunning-looking man.

As he moved his hand his ring glinted, drawing her attention to the symbol on it—the same crest as the tattoo on the left side of his chest—over his heart … A shiver gripped her. She could find no reason for it. Everything was good—better than good. After tonight she’d face things differently. Mac had made her feel like a woman, bolder and more decisive. Maybe she couldn’t have him in her life long-term, but she would have the legacy of knowing him. Something told her she would never feel like this about anyone again. She just had to accept that one night with Mac was worth a lifetime without him.

Settling back on the pillows, she turned her face to drink him in. ‘I love you,’ she whispered, wishing there were something more she could say to express what she felt inside. There didn’t seem to be words for falling in love within a matter of hours. Love struck like a thunderbolt. ‘I love you’ was used so often she worried it had lost its currency—certainly in this instance it seemed woefully inadequate. ‘I love you,’ she whispered again, knowing it could never come close to expressing what she felt for Mac.