revulsion to overwhelm her.
It didn’t.
As he kissed her deeply, a flicker of warmth grew to life in the pit of her belly. He shifted, and his hard body pressed intimately against hers. This time, when his hand closed over her breast, she waited, holding still in wonder as the pleasure rippled over her skin.
His thumb flicked her nipple, and a spike of exquisite sensations shot through her body, twitching her thighs and making her gasp.
Tariq drew back in obvious surprise.
He did it again, and her chest arched reflexively against his hand.
“I have changed my mind,” he rumbled, his tone pouring over her like sun-warm honey.
She wanted to ask why, but words were nothing but a jumble inside her head.
“I am not disappointed,” he finished. Then his lips came back down on hers.
For some reason, her arms wound around his neck. She curled against him, reveling in the hard contours of his male body. When he pulled up the hem of her gown, she knew she should protest. But his hands felt exquisite along the length of her thigh, and she could only lie mute, kissing him back, squirming against the softness of the bed as desire caught fire in her throat.
He touched her intimately, and she knew she should be mortified. But she liked it, she loved it, she never, ever wanted him to stop.
“Laila,” he breathed, easing her thighs apart, bunching her gown up out of the way.
He drew back the covers, his gaze on her naked body. Instead of feeling shy, she felt wild and alive.
His fingers pressed firmly to her. She knew what he was doing, but she didn’t care. It didn’t hurt. No one had told her his touch would feel good.
He gazed into her eyes. “You are beautiful.”
“You are gentle,” she told him in absolute wonder.
He smiled at that. His hand moved against her, and warmth suddenly flooded her limbs. She writhed and moaned, arching her hips.
“I am selfish,” he rumbled.
He put his lips to her breast then, drawing her nipple into his heated mouth, his tongue doing something that showered sparks through her body.
“Tariq,” she cried, gripping him tight.
He moved on top of her.
His weight felt good.
His palms stroked the backs of her thighs, pushing up her knees, as his maleness pressed bluntly against her.
She waited for the pain.
Her aunt had told her that much.
But it was swift and slight, and then she was wrapped around him, and he was fully inside her, and all her sensations were magnified.
He started to move, and pulsing desire washed over her.
She tipped her head back, exposing her neck, instinctively angling her hips.
He kissed her tender skin, while his rhythm stabilized then accelerated, and her limbs wrapped fully around him.
He pushed a pillow beneath the small of her back, and the earth shifted to where they were joined.
He sped up, thrusting harder. His muscles tightened. His kisses grew deeper and more frantic.
He groaned deeply against her lips. “I’m sorry.”
Then his hand went between them, touching her intimately. Stars exploded inside her head, melting down in the black desert sky. Her muscles contracted and unheard-of pleasure ricocheted to every corner of her body.
She struggled to catch her breath.
Tariq was heavy, their bodies slick everywhere they touched. But she didn’t want him to move.
No wonder he’d been impatient.
Why hadn’t somebody told her?
Why had they scared her?
Tariq slowly lifted his head, smoothing back her dark hair, tenderly kissing her swollen mouth.
“Is it always like that?” she managed.
A low rumble of laughter moved through his chest. “It’s never like that.”
As her heart thudded deep, over the curve of his scarred shoulder, she caught a glimpse of the Gold Heart statue. The Royal Han marble was a rich glow in the moonlight. The woman still smiled. But Laila could swear the smile had changed from serene to satisfied.
Carter backed her up against the wall.
He murmured all the things they were going to do in this room, and Macy’s face flamed as hot as her body burned. The dress was an easy target for a man with roaming hands, and Carter made sure he touched every part of her. His sweet assault made her moan his name over and over, and she knew they’d never make it to the bed.
As his kisses moved down her throat she arched for him and closed her eyes to the sensual sensation.
He stopped for a moment and she slumped against him, breathless.
“Is…that…all…you…got?”
A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled from his throat before he lifted her into the circle of his arms and carried her to the bed. “Just wait, sweet darlin’. Just wait.”
About the Author
Award-winning author CHARLENE SANDS writes bold, passionate, heart-stopping heroes and always…really good men! She’s a lover of all things romantic, having married her high school sweetheart, Don. She is the proud recipient of a Readers’ Choice Award, and double recipient of a Booksellers’ Best Award, having written twenty-eight romances to date, both contemporary and historical Western. Charlene is a member of Romance Writers of America and belongs to the Orange County and Los Angeles chapters of RWA, where she volunteers as the Published Authors’ Liaison.
When not writing, she loves movie dates with her hubby, playing cards with her children, reading romance, great coffee, Pacific beaches, country music and anything chocolate. She also loves to hear from her readers. You can reach Charlene for fun stuff, contests and more at www.charlenesands.com or write to her at PO Box 4883, West Hills, CA 91308, USA. You can find her on the Harlequin Authors Blog, and on Facebook, too.
In memory and honor of Sandra Hyatt, a friend and fellow Desire author.
I will always remember your sweet, friendly smile and your kind heart.
Prologue
