Captivated by the Sheikh. Annie West
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as every nerve reacted. Automatically she tugged her hand, trying to break his grip, but he simply smiled and held both her hands in his.
‘There is no need for haste. We have all afternoon.’
Then he released her hand and reached out to a platter at the centre of the table.
‘Would you like some fruit?’
She stared at the plate, her mind slow, still catching up after the effect of Arik’s smile on her nervous system.
‘I…yes. Thank you.’ Her throat was dry, her voice cracked. She took refuge in a gulp of her iced juice as she frantically tried to get a grip on her churning emotions.
Had she done the right thing? Was she regretting the impulse to stay?
She waited for the icy finger of fear to trail down her spine, for the churning regret to unsettle her stomach.
But all she felt was a hot eagerness. An avid expectation that soon, very soon, she’d be in Arik’s arms. She bit down on the small secret smile that curved her lips at the thought.
No, she had no regrets.
‘Peach?’ he offered and she turned her head. He held up a neat sliver of fresh fruit to her. It smelled like summer and it tasted like sunshine as she let him slip it between her lips. There was the faintest brush of his fingers against her mouth and then his hand was gone.
Her lips tingled from that fleeting touch.
‘Aren’t you having any?’ she said as he held out another piece to her. This time his touch lingered against her mouth a second longer. Time enough for her to take in the slight salt tang of his skin and feel the passing caress of his thumb against her bottom lip.
Heat bloomed deep inside. Darts of sensation shot through her, pulling her straighter in her seat, eager for his next offering.
‘That depends,’ he said, letting his gaze slide from her face to her hand, grasping the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip.
Depends? Rosalie looked from her hand to Arik and then to the neatly sliced peach on the plate before her.
It depends on me she realised with a thrill of daring. Tentatively she reached out and picked up a wedge of fruit. It was ripe, slippery with juice, and her fingers trembled.
Did she really mean to be so…provocative as to feed him?
She took a slow breath, trying to regulate the rhythm of her racing heart. But when she looked up into his fathomless eyes, her pulse pounded harder than ever. His gaze was so intense that she felt it graze her features, brush over her throat and linger on her lips.
Rosalie offered him the fruit, the tremor in her hand so pronounced that she was barely surprised when he closed his fingers around hers while he slid the peach into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, smiled, and then licked the juice from her fingers.
A shudder of pure longing swept through her. Her nipples peaked, pebble-hard against her bra as she watched him suck the sticky sweetness from her thumb, her forefinger. Incendiary heat shot straight to the pit of her belly and to the moistening core of her desire.
Oh, my.
‘Delicious,’ he whispered in a throaty voice so deep it resonated within her.
Still holding her hand, Arik selected another segment of peach and held it to her lips. This time he didn’t draw his hand away and she had to slip it from between his fingers. Heaven! It tasted of him. Or did he taste of the fruit? His thumb pressed against her bottom lip and she slid her tongue along it, watching the glimmer of anticipation in his eyes. Cautiously she parted her lips a little wider and took his thumb into her mouth, sucking the sweetness from it.
The searing pleasure in his expression reflected her own excitement, told her this was a mutual delight.
That was a heady realisation. For the first time she felt a thrill of power, knowing she could affect him so.
He might be the master at this, but even the novice had something to offer.
She reached for another piece of fruit and felt an unravelling, unsettling sensation as she watched him eat from her hand, then use his tongue to swipe up the juice on each of her fingers.
Her eyelids drifted down on a wordless sigh. She felt…everything. Her skin had grown so sensitised that even the lap of his tongue over a fingertip, the caress of his lips on her palm, was enough to seduce her into ecstasy.
‘Rosalie.’At the sound of his voice she opened her eyes and found him leaning closer, offering her another piece. Obediently she took the segment but she was clumsy and juice dribbled from her lips.
He still held her hand in his so she lifted her other one to wipe away the moisture. But she was too late. Already he’d moved, tilting his head to catch the droplet of juice with his tongue.
She shuddered at the sensual impact of his mouth on her flesh, smoothing along her chin. She felt his breath on her, scented him in her short, urgent gasps and shut her eyes against the dizzying onslaught of awareness. He kissed her jaw line, the corner of her mouth, across the sensitive spot beneath her ear that sent arrows of heat to every nerve in her body.
Her head lolled back as he pressed his lips to her throat, evoking the most exquisite sense of abandonment. If he put his hands on her now she’d welcome his touch. Revel in it.
And then, suddenly, he was gone. Rosalie opened her eyes to find him watching her, so close that she had only to lean forward a little to bring her lips to his.
For a heartbeat she stalled in thought, wondering, wishing. And in that instant Arik moved, shifting back in his seat and half turning away.
Panic shot through her. Had he changed his mind? He must know she wanted him. She sat up straighter just as he turned and held out a small damp cloth.
His expression was tight, almost hard, as he wiped the cloth across her chin and then her hands, removing the last sticky traces of peach. Then he flung the linen on to the table and fixed his eyes on hers.
What she saw there stole her voice. Gone was the laid-back insouciance she’d come to expect from Arik. The teasing half smile. Even the enigmatic stare.
Now his face seemed cast in hard bronze, drawn tight with the force of a compulsion he couldn’t hide. On any other man that look would have frightened her.
On Arik it excited her.
‘It’s time,’ he said, reaching out and enfolding both her hands in his. ‘You’ve decided, haven’t you, Rosalie?’
He paused, awaiting her response. Words were beyond her, so she nodded.
‘Good.’ Already he was drawing her to her feet. ‘At last we will be lovers.’
Chapter Seven
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