He ripped the soft, green silk tunic open down the front, baring her breasts to his burning eyes. A moment later, both sides of the top fell away, slithering to the floor to pool at her feet, to be joined just moments later by the white trousers she had been wearing, her underwear tossed aside with a total indifference to where it fell.
Then he was there beside her on the bed, his own clothes discarded alongside hers, the heat and hardness of his lean length stoking the fires that were already running wild through her yearning body. His kisses were more intimate now, lingering on each breast to swirl his tongue around the pouting nipples, drawing them into the heated cavern of his mouth and suckling hard until she was crying out with need.
But he was ahead of her there too, stroking his way down the length of her body and parting her legs, finding the most intimate part of her and making a raw, rough sound of satisfaction as his fingers encountered the moisture that told how ready she was for him there.
But then, just when she could least bear it, he suddenly hesitated and paused, looking down into her face. His eyes were glazed with passion, a heated blush streaking across high cheekbones above the rich growth of beard, but he held himself still for a moment, letting her know without words just what he was thinking. He was considering her inexperience; thinking of the need for care.
But care and consideration were not what Aziza wanted—not what she needed.
‘No!’ she ordered, her voice raw and high with a need that matched his. ‘Don’t stop now. Don’t!’
‘No chance, lady.’
Her legs were pushed apart by the pressure of his powerful thighs as he settled himself between them, the heat of his length coming up against the point where she most yearned for him. Fearful that he might hesitate once more, she found herself acting on instincts as old as time, lifting her hips slightly and opening herself to him until, on a groan that was a mixture of triumph and surrender, he gave himself up to the passion that controlled him, pressing in and up until he possessed her completely.
The sting of pain was only brief and soon forgotten as from then it was all fire and fury, passion and need taking over and driving every last thought from her mind. She didn’t know where she ended and Nabil began, only that they were together and together they were storming higher, higher, reaching for something she had never known existed but felt that now she would die if she never achieved it.
Just seconds later she felt that she was dying. Of pleasure; of the brilliance of the delight that was exploding along every nerve in her body, sending her spinning over the edge into a freefall into space. All that she was aware of was the fact that Nabil went with her, following her along the same blazing path, with her name a raw, broken sound of triumph on his lips as he did so.
A long, mindless time later, Nabil’s breathing finally slowed and he stirred at last, stretching luxuriously and pulling her close so that she was curved against him, skin to skin, her slender, smooth legs tangled with the bronzed length of his, dark hairs rough against her sensitive skin.
He cupped a hand under her chin to lift her face towards his, a frown drawing his black brows together.
‘Are you all right? It was your first time. Are you OK?’
For several seconds Aziza had to struggle to speak. She found that she was blushing fierily at the ease with which he had realised her inexperience. Had it showed? Had she disappointed him?
‘Disappointed? Did it look that way?’
To her horror she realised that she had spoken the words out loud, letting them escape in a whisper from a tongue she seemed to have no control over.
‘How could you be a disappointment?’
‘Well—I have nothing to compare it with. You might have wanted more—seduction on my part.’
‘More seduction?’ To her consternation the amusement was back in his eyes, making them glitter behind the rich thickness of his black lashes. ‘Now, why would I need that?’
One powerful hand smoothed over her body, down from her shoulders and over her ribcage, lingering on her hips. Aziza fought with herself not to respond too naively, too revealingly, even as her insides seemed to melt under his touch, turning her stomach into a pit of warm honey, the moisture between her thighs drying against the heat of her skin. She wanted to press herself against that heated caress, purr like a contented kitten. But even as the thought slid into her mind she felt the raw, hungry pulse start to beat again between her legs, making her shift restlessly against the sheets.
‘You are pure seduction in yourself. I knew from day one that it would be like this.’
‘And would that be day one when I was your chosen wife? Or at the banquet following our—’
‘Neither,’ Nabil broke in sharply, his eyes fixed on where the long hands rested, lean and slightly darker against the cushioned curve of her hip. ‘I wanted you that first night, when we met.’
Aziza’s breath caught, and had to be forced out again in a rush. She felt as if the colour that she could feel rushing into her cheeks must be flooding the rest of her body, leaving her flushed pink against the whiteness of the sheets.
‘When I was...’
Nabil shifted slightly in the bed, moving so that he was looking straight down into her eyes. His hand moved from her thigh to cup the side of her cheek, warm and gentle.
‘Zia the maid, or Aziza my princess, you were the one who stirred my senses more than any other woman I was supposed to consider as my bride.’
But not any woman, ever, a cold little voice whispered inside Aziza’s head. There had been Sharmila, his first love, the mother of his child. The woman who had died in his arms. She was only here because of the tragedy that had filled his youth.
In a marriage that was the result of love, such as the one that Nabil had shared with Sharmila, this was the time that, in the darkness and softness of the marriage bed, he would have whispered words of love, of joy that she was his wife and they were together. But there was no room for feelings such as that in this marriage that was made purely from diplomacy and political alliances. No matter what she felt for Nabil, those feelings were not returned. But at least he had chosen her as his bride. And he wanted her.
‘I felt that way too,’ she grabbed at all her courage to admit. ‘From the moment you kissed me.’
Oh, who was she kidding? Before that kiss, long before it, she had given him her heart. He’d had it in his keeping ever since she’d first seen him, even though he’d held it so carelessly, not even aware of what he had.
‘I lo—’ she began, needing to say the words just once, even if he never put any value on them. But in the space of a heartbeat all her courage deserted her and she knew that she couldn’t bear to let her secret out into the cold light of day. ‘I loved that kiss,’ she managed instead. ‘And I wanted more.’
Raising herself up on one elbow, she pressed her lips to his, feeling the combination of the soft and the rough as the edges of his beard brushed against her skin. She’d longed to have the nerve to take that kiss up along his cheek, out to the pale, raised line along his cheekbone and out towards his temple.
Tonight she felt brave enough to do that. Lifting herself again, she let her mouth touch on the
