Midnight in Arabia: Heart of a Desert Warrior / The Sheikh's Last Gamble / The Sheikh's Jewel. Trish Morey
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he yanked her toward him and took her mouth in a searing kiss. He swept his tongue inside, dueling with hers, tasting her, letting her taste him.
After a night filled with lovemaking, he kissed her as if he had been starved for it.
Needing to feel his naked skin against hers, she scrabbled at his thobe, yanking the traditional garment up and over his head, whimpering when that meant breaking their kiss, and going right back to it when the material was out of the way.
She twined her hands behind his neck, pressing her body against his, her already-excited nipples, tender from all his ministrations the night before rubbing against the silky curls on his chest.
She moaned in pleasure at this caress that had always been one of her favorites. Though she liked it even better with his chest hair left to grow naturally. There was just something so wild about her body taking pleasure from his and knowing how much he liked her to do so. Knowing that he was getting every bit as turned on as she was, the need between them growing like an out-of-control tornado.
His hands moved down her body with swift, sure movements to cup her bottom, and then he lifted her so his already-hardened flesh brushed against the apex of her thighs.
Needy sounds filled the steamy air around them, so like six years ago and yet so different. He was stronger now. His reactions were even more primal than they used to be, as if he’d stopped attempting to rein himself in. And she loved that.
She was more aware of what the world of sex had to offer and … not to offer. Innocent embarrassment at her own desires was a thing of the past. She knew how magical this was now, how much she would miss it when it was gone—so she reveled in every second, every breath and touch.
Even the hunger between them was both familiar and altogether different. It was so much stronger now, though she never would have believed that possible. Her craving for him was an ache inside her, but his want was out there for both of them to see and wholly undeniable. He had made love to her short hours before, but the urgency in his touch was as if they had yet to reach their first orgasm.
She felt movement and then her back against the cool tile of the wall. His grip shifted so that he had her thighs over his forearms, her legs spread, her sex open to him.
He pressed against her, but waited as if asking if this was what she wanted. She tilted her hips and pressed down, taking the tip of his engorged sex inside stretched and swollen tissues unused to so much activity.
It didn’t hurt; she was experiencing too much pleasure for that, but she felt it. Felt her body stretch to accommodate him, felt the slide of his hard-on against her inner walls, filling her in a way only he could do.
He tilted her just enough so that his head rubbed against her G-spot on both the pull and push of every thrust of his hips.
Ecstasy built inside her one electric jolt at a time until she was writhing against him as he possessed her. She couldn’t think, could barely breathe. It was too much and not enough.
He knew. He always knew.
He swiveled his hips, grinding against her sweet spot with his pelvic bone and she shattered. She was barely aware as he shouted out his own release, his hot essence filling her core.
And if a ridiculous wish that she didn’t have the uterine insert played through her mind, no one else ever need know.
She’d given up her dreams of babies and her own family when he’d walked out of her life six years ago. So, the dream wasn’t quite as dead as she believed. That was a weakness she would forgive herself.
They stayed like that, connected against the wall, for several long moments, the only sound their harsh breathing. Eventually, he made noise that could have been approval or something else, she was too out of it herself to really tell.
But it was followed by him carrying her to the shower and she realized the sound might even have been words. They bathed each other with the delicious-smelling soap Genevieve was so partial to.
They were soaking in the hot spring pool when Asad said with all the seriousness and more chagrin than she’d ever witnessed in him, “I forgot the condom.”
Only then did she realize she hadn’t told him she was covered for birth control.
“Are you clean?” she asked softly, aware that pregnancy wasn’t the only thing a modern woman had to worry about when having sex.
She sincerely doubted he was a reckless lover, but he had forgotten the condom when he didn’t realize she could not get pregnant.
He stared at her in confusion for several seconds before understanding dawned in his brown gaze and he growled, “I am not diseased.”
“I’m not trying to offend you. It was a legitimate question.”
“So you say. I say we have a much more serious worry to consider here.”
“No, we don’t.”
“You are on the pill?” He looked astonished by the idea.
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