HELEN BROOKS - Dreaming Of... France - The Husband She Never Knew / The Parisian Playboy / Reunited...in Paris!

‘I’ve always loved your hair,’ he said, his voice an ache. ‘A thousand shades.’ She felt his fingers on her neck, massaging the tense muscles, and she let out a breathy sigh of pleasure.

‘Do you remember,’ she asked, her eyes closed, the touch of his fingers so mesmerising that she had to fish for each word, forming them slowly, ‘when you brushed my hair before?’

Ammar didn’t answer for a moment, just kept brushing her hair with long, sensuous strokes, his touch deft and sure and gentle, each stroke of the hairbrush seeming to blaze down Noelle’s back, igniting her with need, even as a wonderful languor flowed through her veins. ‘I remember,’ he finally said in a voice that throbbed with the memory of it.

Neither of them spoke, the moment seeming to spin on and on between them. She could hear each breath he drew, felt the heat of his body so close to hers. It felt incredibly intimate, even though she couldn’t see him. It felt as if each stroke of the brush released the memories and fear they both had, the pain and hurt and shame, a tender act of both healing and hope.

‘There,’ he finally said and, setting the brush down he carefully moved her hair aside and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck, just as he had once before. Noelle let out a shuddering breath as his lips lingered on her skin. ‘I love you,’ he said softly, and her heart expanded so it seemed to fill her whole chest. She couldn’t breathe.

‘I love you, too,’ she whispered. ‘So much.’ She hadn’t said that before, had only told him she wanted to love him. As if it was difficult. A challenge instead of a joy. Now she understood how simple it could be, how perfect and pure.

Silently, Ammar reached for her hand, threaded her fingers through his. She still couldn’t see him, although she felt the solid strength of him behind her, his warm breath fanning her ear. And in that moment she felt her whole self buoy with happiness; she felt as if she could float right up to the sky, and no more so than when Ammar whispered, his voice rough with emotion and want, ‘Come upstairs with me. Forget dinner and come upstairs with me right now.’

SILENTLY, Ammar led her to his bedroom, his fingers still threaded with hers. Noelle could feel her heart thudding in her chest, each painful beat reminding her of the intimacy and importance of this moment, of what Ammar was asking. Finally they would have their wedding night.

He opened the door to his bedroom and drew her inside. In the shadowy moonlit room she could only just make out his face, and saw how solemn and intent he looked. Her heart beat harder.

He let out a shuddering breath and to her dismay took a step back, releasing her hand. She felt the loss of him acutely, the emptiness like an ache. She held her breath, watching him warily as he drew another deep breath.

‘I’ve waited so long for this,’ he said in a low voice that throbbed with emotion. ‘So long, and I’m not rushing it like some randy schoolboy.’

‘I don’t mind rushing,’ Noelle said shakily and Ammar gave her a small smile.

‘There will be time for rushing later. Now we’re going to take it slowly.’ And his smile turned wonderfully wicked as he took a step closer to her and reached out to unbutton the top button of her blouse. His gaze remained intent and heavy on hers as he slowly—so slowly—undid each button of the blouse. Noelle’s whole body thrummed with excitement and expectation as she felt Ammar’s fingers whisper down her body. She didn’t move, didn’t touch him, because she knew instinctively that Ammar was leading this dance and she was his willing and waiting partner.

With the final button undone he carefully parted her blouse and then let it slip from her shoulders. Noelle gave a tiny shrug and it slid to the ground. Deftly he unhooked her bra, and that followed the blouse to the floor.

He slid his hands along her shoulders and then cupped her breasts, his palms cradling their softness as his thumbs brushed across the achingly sensitised peaks. She let out a shuddering breath. ‘Tell me what to do,’ she whispered.

‘Undress me.’

A thrill ran through her. She felt emboldened and powerful as she stepped closer to him and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. She felt him tremble under her touch and she fumbled with the button, laughing softly.

‘My fingers are shaking.’ In answer Ammar reached for her hand and placed it over his heart; she could feel it thunder in his chest. ‘Mine, too,’ she whispered, and undid another button. It seemed to take forever to undo them all, but finally she was sliding the shirt off his broad shoulders, glorying in the feel of sleek skin and hard muscle. She loved touching him. She’d been aching to do it for so long, and now that she could she felt like a child in a sweet shop, looking around in wonder. Hers . He was all hers.

His shirt fell to the floor and she gazed at his bare chest, the sprinkling of dark hair veeing down to the waistband of his trousers, the sculpted muscles and taut lines of his beautiful body. ‘Now what?’ she asked shakily.

‘Round two,’ Ammar murmured, and icy heat raced through her as he reached for the button of her skirt and popped it open with his thumb. Just the brush of his fingers against her bare tummy sent another blaze of desire shooting through her, and she swayed on her feet as he unzipped and slid the skirt down her legs, falling to his knees in front of her.

‘Ammar …

He slid his hand down the length of her bare leg, his touch sure and possessive, and then balanced her with his other hand as he helped her to step out of her skirt. Undressing, Noelle thought hazily, had never taken so long nor felt so erotic.

Then she stopped thinking at all as Ammar hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her knickers and slowly slid those down her legs as well, so she was completely naked.

He slid his hands back up her legs to her hips, cradling her surely as he arched her pelvis towards him. Noelle’s eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a kiss at the juncture of her thighs, one little kiss that still sent waves of pleasure pulsating through her. Then he righted her again and stood up.

‘Now me.’

Noelle eyed his belt buckle and trouser zip with a dazed scepticism, for her fingers were trembling so much she wasn’t sure she’d be able to manage any of it. Her whole body was trembling, shaking with the force of her desire for him.

‘This might take a while,’ she joked, and Ammar smiled.

‘I told you we weren’t rushing.’

Noelle reached for his belt buckle, fumbling with it helplessly. ‘For a woman who specialises in accessories, you don’t know your way around a belt very well,’ he admonished wryly, and she gave a soft laugh.

‘I’m hopeless.’

Ammar wrapped his fingers around hers, stilling them on his belt. ‘Nothing about this,’ he said quietly, ‘is hopeless.’

Noelle felt a lump rise in her throat. ‘You’re right,’ she whispered. This moment was full of hope and wonder and love. She felt dizzy with it all. ‘Still,’ she managed, ‘I’d like to get your trousers off.’

‘I’d like that, too.’

He smiled at her, his expression so full of desire and love that Noelle felt a flare of joyful power and quickly she undid his belt, unzipped his trousers. She slid his trousers down his legs and then glanced at his boxers, his arousal gloriously evident. Ammar caught her chin in his fingers and she realised she’d been staring.

‘Touch me,’ he said softly, and she slid his boxers off and wrapped her hand around the hard, silky length of his erection. ‘Oh, Noelle,’ he said with a shuddering breath. ‘I love you.’

She let out a choked cry, overwhelmed by the poignancy and even sacredness of the moment. Ammar drew her to him, her naked body so wonderfully pressed against his, every point in exquisite and aching contact.