‘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.
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
