The Sultan's Harem Bride Read online

  Without turning, he yanked open a drawer and fumbled for condoms, planting a handful on top of the bedside table. Those amazing eyes fixed on the movement and she swallowed.

  Dredging up the last grains of self-restraint, he dropped his arms.

  ‘I want you, Jacqueline.’ So much his chest felt like it was bound by steel bands. ‘Tell me now if you don’t want this.’ He prayed he had the strength to let her go.

  She shook her head and he nearly died. Then she stretched out one slender arm and his pulse revved into life again. ‘I want you too. You have no idea how much.’

  No game playing, no flirting, just honest need. Her directness was more arousing than any erotic foreplay.

  ‘Oh, I think I do.’ Asim snatched her hand and planted a kiss on her palm, then pressed it to his chest where his heart thundered.

  In one swift movement he was on the bed, reaching around her for the dress’s concealed zip. She stiffened.

  What now? His patience was worn paper-thin from holding himself in check. Was this after all some coy game? Yet a look at her face disabused him of that.

  ‘Jacqueline?’

  ‘You first.’ Her eyes didn’t meet his. Instead she fixed her gaze on his high collar as she fumbled to find how it opened. ‘Please.’

  No woman had ever asked him to strip for her. Usually it was him watching his latest lover with anticipation.

  ‘Very well.’ He stood, quickly shucking his shoes, his hands making short work of the fastenings on his jacket. Moments later it dropped to the floor and he hauled his collarless shirt up over his head, flinging it away. His eyes met hers and the current of sexual energy between them almost blew the back off his skull. Her gaze raked his torso as if he’d spread a banquet before her and she didn’t know where to start.

  He knew where he wanted her to start. He was hard as the stone quarried to build this palace. His hand dipped to his waistband, his temperature skyrocketing as her gaze followed the movement. Then he thought better of it. Once he was naked this would be over in minutes.

  Instead he untucked the end of his silk turban. His hand moved deftly in the familiar task but the intensity of her stare invested it with a sensual significance that turned his blood heavy, making each pulse a ponderous thud that reverberated low and deep.

  Eyes holding his, she wriggled off the bed and reached for the fabric in his hand. It arced as she tossed it, a ribbon of bright silk disappearing beyond the bed.

  Still she didn’t touch him, though her breath wafting across his collarbone was pure sensual torment. His hands clenched.

  Grave eyes held his then she spun around, bending her head, giving him unfettered access. Her nape was dewy perfection, drawing his lips as he unfastened the couple of buttons at her neck then tugged the zip till the curve of her spine was revealed, a sinuous invitation. He heard the click of metal as she undid her belt and it dropped.

  ‘Yes!’ With one swift movement he wrenched her sleeves down from the wrists so the dress slid off her shoulders to slither with a delicate hiss to the floor.

  Creamy perfection filled his vision. He followed the sweep of her back and grinned. No wonder there’d been no line to mar the perfection of her silhouette. His uncertain seductress only wore a thong of champagne lace. It accentuated the perfect ripeness of her derriere and the tantalising swell of her streamlined hips.

  ‘You’re so beautiful, Jacqueline.’

  There was no holding back. One step brought him flush against her, his erection snug in the groove between her buttocks as he bent his knees. Asim kissed her nape, his hands unerringly finding the soft bounty of her small, high breasts.

  His groan was drowned by her hiss of pleasure as he rolled her taut nipples between his fingertips and gently bit her shoulder. A judder rippled through her and she stiffened, her breath hoarse. Then her hands covered his, pressing him closer as she arched, her backside pushing against his arousal, obliterating anything like a plan for seduction.

  Had he ever had a woman so responsive? He bent further, raking his tongue up her vertebrae, tasting apricots and cream and the hot tang that was Jacqueline.

  She shifted against him and Asim feared he’d come before he’d had a chance to feel her flesh against him. This woman’s power to seduce astonished him. Her hands on his were desperate, the swivel of her hips not a practised, sultry invitation but a jerky thrust of unadulterated need and all the more provocative for it.

  Slipping one hand from her grip, he arrowed it to the lace between her thighs. He needed to be there now, to impale himself in that delicious softness, but he couldn’t bear the time it would take to shuck his trousers and strip her thong away. Instead his questing fingers slid straight to her sweet spot and instantly she bucked, making stars whirl as the friction between them morphed from arousing to incendiary.

  Her hand slid down his arm just as he pushed two fingers inside her tight heat. Asim felt the quiver begin deep within her and ripple out till it became a quake that made her shudder and rock against him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WHEN THE WORLD stopped spinning, Jacqui was flat on her back looking up into jet-dark eyes. They glittered, fiery, as Asim raked her body with a scorching look.

  Gasping for breath, her limbs liquid, Jacqui didn’t have the strength to cover herself when he zeroed in on her breasts.

  Heaven knew what magic had happened tonight to make a man like Asim want her but she was past caring. She intended to revel in every single second of it. No doubts. No regrets.

  A callused palm brushed her nipple and she jolted as a current of fire raced straight to her womb. She frowned. How could that be, after the climax he’d given her?

  His hand stroked back and she reached for him, fingers curling around those wide, straight shoulders, revelling in the silky, hot feel of taut skin over bone and muscle.

  She tugged him close. ‘I need you.’ The aching emptiness inside cried out for Asim.

  He shifted, propping himself over her, and she felt the hard, hot length of his body, unfamiliar and utterly breath-taking. She’d been so dazed she hadn’t noticed him strip his trousers. Heavy muscle and the tickle of masculine hair created a friction that was unbearably wonderful.

  ‘Please, Asim.’ But he ignored her urgency. Slowly he lowered his head and licked her breast and she gasped, her legs flopping open to cradle him.

  ‘So lovely,’ he murmured as his gaze collided with hers. ‘I haven’t been able to get them out of my mind since that first night. So pert and ripe.’ He lowered his head again and tugged gently at her breast, sucking her nipple till Jacqui’s head thrust back and her body bowed up into his.

  ‘And so sensitive.’ His deep voice was smug. Through slitted eyes she saw dark satisfaction on his taut features.

  She swallowed hard, a knot in her throat as she realised she’d never felt so close to beautiful in her whole life as she did now.

  He cupped one breast and her breath hissed in ecstasy. ‘They’re beautiful. Like ripe, fresh fruit. I love that you don’t need to wear a bra.’ He paused, his brows bunching. ‘Except in front of other men. But when you’re with me you can go braless.’

  There it was again, that domineering tone of a man used to giving orders and getting exactly what he wanted. But Jacqui was too stunned to care.

  Since puberty she’d been conscious of her lack of curves. She’d never had to fight men off, like some female colleagues, yet here was Asim...

  He dipped his head to suckle her breast and fire zapped her. She arched almost off the bed at the feel of his mouth on her. Was it like this every time? She tunnelled her hands in his thick hair, holding him close, and felt something under her ribs melt.

  When you’re with me. He made it sound like they’d be together a lot.

  He’s being kind, whispered a familiar voice. The
cutting voice of her stepmother and the girls at school. But how could she heed it as she watched Asim and felt the magic he wrought? The glory of it drowned everything else. Heat drenched her.

  ‘Asim.’ She didn’t recognise that rusty voice. ‘I want you.’ She’d never wanted anything so much in her life.

  She dragged his head up, making him growl low in his throat as he released her nipple. Their gazes clashed and the febrile shimmer in his might have scared her if she hadn’t already left caution far behind. ‘I need you.’

  His fierce expression didn’t ease and Jacqui feared he intended to keep teasing her.

  On a surge of desperation she shoved his shoulders, pushing him onto his back, rolling with him till she straddled his hips. The strength beneath her reminded her that she only managed it because he let her, a quizzical gleam in his eyes.

  ‘You like to be on top?’ His voice rasped gravel across each sensitive spot. She gasped as her over-stimulated senses threatened to explode just at the sight and sound of him and the furnace of heat that was his erection, hard and amazing between her legs.

  She gulped as need and trepidation vied for supremacy. She couldn’t bear it if he pulled back now. ‘I just can’t wait.’

  Jacqui reached down to find him already sheathed and her pulse raced even harder. He was heavy and thick in her unsteady hand. She fumbled and almost sobbed in desperation, hating her inexperience.

  Asim brushed her fingers away. Seconds later firm hands cradled her hips, guiding her as he thrust up in a long, slow surge of power that halted when she gasped. Jacqui couldn’t help it—the feeling of impossible fullness stole her breath.

  ‘Jacqui?’ Asim’s voice was husky with disbelief. ‘Is this your first time?’

  She clutched his shoulders, panic rising. She’d come this far, further than she’d ever been with any man, and she wanted it all, with Asim. All these years wondering and now...

  ‘Sorry to disappoint.’ She snagged another breath, feeling the tension in her body begin to ease. ‘It’s just been a while.’ If she told him she was a virgin he might stop and she couldn’t bear that.

  Still he scrutinised her, his brow pleating, and she sensed his doubt. She licked her dry lips, her whole body trembling, waiting for rejection.

  After what seemed an eternity he pulled her gently down, filling her inch by slow inch. She had to fight not to let her eyes bulge at the amazing sensations.

  He watched her face like a hawk. His jaw was set, his nostrils flared, but it was the look in Asim’s eyes that made her heart clutch. He held her captive with those eyes and she never wanted to be free.

  Tentatively she rocked her hips, feeling the friction and the heavy throb of pleasure. When she did it again strong hands clasped her, helping her find the elusive rhythm.

  He urged her high as he withdrew and bucked up, reaching, she was sure, right to the core of her. Lightning shimmered across her vision. Once, twice and she started to shake. A third time and her legs liquefied.

  A tumble of movement and she was on her back, pressed deep into the bed, her vision filled by Asim. His eyes holding hers, his lips drawn in a grimace of pained pleasure, he thrust one more time and the world shattered in colour and light and sensation, overwhelming her.

  Shuddering at the delicious shockwaves, Jacqui clutched him close as he powered on and, with a roar of triumph, reached his own pulsating climax.

  The awesome force of his orgasm deep within and the juddering intensity of his steaming hot body surrounding hers smashed open some unseen barrier. Jacqui felt tenderness and an unprecedented tug of protectiveness.

  She cradled Asim tight with the last of her strength. With trembling fingers she stroked his thick hair while he shuddered in her arms, his breath hot in the valley between her neck and shoulder.

  Later they lay entwined, her head on his shoulder, his arm draped around her waist, his other hand spread on her thigh, holding her to him.

  ‘Jacqueline, are you sure you’re all right?’

  Jacqui smiled drowsily, a delicious shiver rippling through her at the way he said her name. He made it sound mysterious and feminine, and for the first time in her life somehow...right.

  ‘All right? I’ve never been better in my life.’ She threaded her fingers through his. ‘Thank you, Asim.’

  * * *

  Jacqui hurried down the wide corridor, grateful for her flat shoes. If she’d tried to run in the heels she’d worn last night...

  She put a brake on her thoughts. Last night was over.

  Asim had made that clear when he’d discreetly left her to wake in his bed alone. And she’d been grateful. She had no experience of mornings after and she’d needed time to process everything.

  Heat swirled in her belly. Last night had been extraordinary. Magical. She’d felt desired and desirable, sexy and treasured. She’d woken to a sense of well-being that eclipsed grief and doubt. She was grateful to Asim for that gift.

  Her gift to him would be proving she had no unrealistic expectations. He needn’t fear she’d read too much into kindness and passing attraction.

  For him, that was. For her... Well, it hadn’t passed. The night together had only made her eager for more, despite the slight ache between her legs. She stifled a smile, remembering in glorious detail her unaccustomed exercise.

  Jacqui buttoned her jacket and strode faster. She was late. Her visit to the old harem baths had been fascinating and the female historian informative. But, when the woman had learnt Jacqui had never experienced a traditional Jazeeri bath and massage, she’d insisted that be righted immediately. She’d said Jacqui couldn’t write about the process unless she experienced it.

  So for the last several hours Jacqui had been bathed, exfoliated, rinsed, covered in herbal concoctions, massaged and scented till she glowed. Every pore felt alive and she was preternaturally aware even of the scrape of cloth over her tingling body.

  Or was that the effects of a night of hot sex?

  She’d discovered she was a woman with needs, and she’d never been as aware of herself as a sexual being before. She’d never felt so happy in her life.

  The shade of Imran rose in her mind and she waited for guilt to slice into her. It was a sign of the change in her that instead it was Imran’s grin she recalled, his laughter. The way he’d always urged her to take chances.

  Jacqui shook her head. Whatever her needs, she had to sublimate them. A woman had her pride. Sighing over Asim wasn’t an option. Yet her pulse tripped as she entered the royal offices.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said to Asim’s secretary. ‘I got caught up.’ Her hand rose to the unfamiliar silky camisole peeping above the deep V of her jacket.

  She might have been on time but, opening the wardrobe to grab her trusty suit, she discovered a skimpy camisole instead of her serviceable grey top on the next hanger. There’d been a note pinned to it, an apology from Lady Rania, saying an accident in the laundry had damaged her top beyond repair and offering this replacement. As if Jacqui’s ancient cotton top and this fragile garment—spun, she suspected, from gilded spiders’ webs—bore any similarity. Even the shade of it, between old gold and amber, was luscious. And disconcerting to a woman not used to wearing anything that drew attention to herself, like bold colours.

  Yet what could she do but accept it and hurry to her appointment?

  Now, though, as Asim’s secretary entered the Sultan’s office, Jacqui wondered if she’d done the right thing. Her fingers fluttered over the delicate fabric. Against her skin it felt like a whisper, not clothing. A whisper that teased like the memory of Asim’s breath on her bare skin.

  Horrified at the sultry heat unfurling within her, Jacqui turned towards the water cooler, stopping as Asim’s secretary returned.

  ‘His Highness will see you now.’ He smiled and held the door open
and Jacqui had no choice but to enter.

  Her mouth turned as arid as the great Jazeeri desert when the door closed and she confronted Asim. He stood by the windows, the glare turning him into a formidably large silhouette, his face in shadow.

  Jacqui’s heart hammered a tattoo against her ribs and she sucked in a breath, grateful he was too far away for her to register the spicy scent of his skin. It had lingered in her nostrils all day, a tantalising reminder.

  What to say?

  She swallowed and tugged her jacket.

  Casual. She needed to be casual and calm. As if last night hadn’t blown her self-possession to smithereens then put her back together a different woman.

  Jacqui opened her mouth.

  ‘Take it off.’ Had his voice been so deep last night? It burred through her, stirring the blood in her veins.

  She blinked. ‘Sorry?

  ‘The jacket. It’s an offence to my eyes. Take it off.’

  At that tone of command her hand jerked up automatically to the button of her jacket before she realised what she was doing.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ She tried to inject her voice with hauteur, but what emerged was a breathless gasp. She’d been prepared for embarrassment and the need to assure Asim she wasn’t some lovesick fool. She hadn’t expected this.

  ‘So you should. It’s appalling.’ He crossed his arms. ‘Wear it near other men. Never with me.’

  Jacqui sucked in air. Again that hint that they’d be alone again and, from the gravelly undercurrent in Asim’s voice, intimate.

  She shook her head. She was imagining things. ‘No thank you.’ Best to treat his words as an invitation to be comfortable during their meeting. ‘I prefer to keep it on.’

  ‘And I prefer never to see it again.’ He paused and when he spoke again his voice was a sultry ribbon of invitation. ‘Take it off for me, Jacqueline. Or should I come across and do it for you?’

  His words terrified her. It was one thing to tell herself she could pretend to be aloof and quite another to do it if he came near.