Olivia Gates - The Sheikh's Reluctant Queen

Her hands stilled over the scar’s tip as she wet lips so dry she felt they’d crack. “Sounds… distressing.”

He followed her tongue’s movements, something deliciously scary smoldering in his eyes. “It is. Overwhelmingly so. It’s pleasurable to the point of pain. And arousing to beyond madness.”

His fingers were suddenly digging into her hair, twisting into her long tresses, tilting her face up to his. Her lips opened on a gasp of shock and pleasure at the spikes that shot from every hair to her toes, pooling in between in her core in a heavy, liquid throb.

She swayed into him, feeling the sensual whirlpool he generated tugging her under. At the touch of her length against his, his steady grip trembled once before firming again.

Holding her eyes, he singed her with intensity. “Is this what you want me to feel, princess? Is this what you want me to do?”

And his lips crashed over hers.

At the impact of his passion, a cry burst from her, laden with surprise, relief, delight and a dozen other emotions. He swallowed it, poured his own groans into her. Her lips opened wider, begging for more of his taste and ferocity.

She needed this kiss, this man she’d been waiting for all her life, more than she needed her next breath.

“Is this what you want?” He tore his lips away from hers to growl against her cheeks, her forehead, her neck, roaming over her with demand, owning her. At her frantic nod, he swept up the sweatshirt he’d loaned her, cupped her buttocks in the warmth of his large, calloused hands. Pressing her against the wall, he opened her thighs, grinding against her core with the massive hardness his pants barely contained. “Is this what you’ve been after as you pushed me and pulled at me and exposed me to your inexorable temptation? Do you want me to lose every shred of restraint, every spark of sanity and devour you whole?”

He accentuated his last words by thrusting against her in an explicit mimicking of possession. She could only moan her consent, going limp in his arms.

“Be absolutely sure it’s what you want, princess. I would have taken nothing, but if you say yes, I’ll take it all.”

Was he trying to scare her off? For her own good?

She had to convince him her only “good” was to be with him.

She struggled to wrap her legs around his hips, but was quaking so much, her legs slipped off him. She moaned in thankfulness when he scooped them up and held them around him.

Her hands trembled over his head as she transmitted her conviction into his eyes. “I am an all-or-nothing kind of person myself. And make no mistake, Rashid, I want it all with you.”

He pressed harder into her, as if testing her claims. “You make no mistake, give me one more intimacy and I’ll take everything you have. Everything, princess.”

The misguided man still thought the idea of his ravishing her could scare her away.

She decided to stoke all that ferocity higher. “You mean if at any point I say stop, you won’t?”

His eyes blazed in imperious confidence. “You will not want me to stop.”

She dragged his head down to hers, opened her lips over his scar, grazed it with her teeth. “Yet here I am still trying to convince you to start—”

She trailed off on a yelp. In another of those magical moves, he swept her up in his arms.

She snuggled against his muscled shoulder, soaking up the momentous feeling. He was striding across his domain, taking her to where she’d thought she’d spend the night alone then leave to never see him again. Could it be that everything she’d ever dreamed of was coming true instead? She would finally be with Rashid?

Her fingers dug into his arm, making him slow down. “I want you to be clear on something, Rashid.” He smoldered down at her, awaiting her conditions. “You will give me everything, too.”

After a protracted, unreadable glance, he gave a brief nod.

He accepted her terms, would abide by them.

Elation fizzed in her blood even as arousal thickened it.

And that was before he said, “Just remember, when I give you everything, it was you who asked for it.”

Promises, promises, she almost said.

But teasing Rashid would come later. When he opened up to her more. Hopefully soon. And fully.

For now, she would take one miracle at a time.

The miracle wasn’t unfolding as Laylah had anticipated.

It had played to her expectations till Rashid had lowered her onto his bed. Then it had diverged onto a totally unexpected path.

Instead of continuing his seduction, he’d risen to his feet. He now stood brooding down at her.

“Rashid, arjook… ”

Was that her voice? That thick, covetous rasp?

But who could blame her? The man she’d fantasized about all her life was standing before her, proving her most extravagant fantasies of him modest.

Instead of answering her plea, he was turning away, tossing words over his shoulder. “You won’t appreciate me all over you sweaty like this.” Before she could cry out that she loved him sweaty like that, would want him all over her even slathered in mud, he dragged his blunt fingernails down his face, producing a scratching sound that deluged her in a fresh bout of tremors. “I’ve also grown some industrial strength sandpaper.”

Next second, he disappeared into the bathroom.

The moment he closed the bathroom door, Rashid bolted into the shower, turned it on cold and plunged beneath its freezing spray.

Gulping down air, he squeezed his eyes shut, leaned his flaming forehead against the cold tiles, willing the icy needles to pummel arousal’s hold on his senses.

What was he doing?

This had progressed so fast. Too fast. Too far.

Even when he’d been doing everything in his power to sabotage his own plans, it had only accelerated them.

Now she was out there, the woman he’d meant to eventually have in his bed, begging him to take her, now, not later. When he hadn’t done a thing to seduce her, had done the opposite, trying to ward her away, giving her every reason to back off.

It would have been an ingenious strategy had he meant it, pulling away so she’d be the one to pursue him, but he’d genuinely tried everything he could to dissuade her.

Now that he’d failed, he couldn’t go through with it. For she wasn’t the woman he’d meant to seduce. That woman existed only in his preconceptions. The real Laylah was something he hadn’t known existed. A being pure of heart and magnanimous. And she wasn’t seeking him in response to a maddening challenge.

She truly wanted him. And had for all her life, she’d said.

He shouldn’t have let her touch him.

Her hands and lips on his disfigured flesh had… Ya Ullah…

He’d never known there could be sensations like that. They’d bolted from his flesh to his psyche, tearing into him, detonating his barriers, his brakes. Nothing had mattered after that first touch but that she kept on touching him. As she had.

Then she’d told him she wanted it all with him. He had no idea how he’d stopped himself from dragging her to the ground right then and there and driving inside her, assuaging their mutual need.

But he couldn’t take what she was so fervently offering. Not after the past hours’ experiences and revelations. Not now that he knew she wasn’t who he’d thought she was.

He now owed her far better than that.

Yet how could he deny her, after he’d promised her himself?

He would give her one last chance to make sure. If being with him in ultimate intimacy was as necessary to her as it was to him, and not a reaction to tonight’s turmoil, he’d have to succumb.