Annie West - Captivated by the Sheikh - For the Sheikh's Pleasure / In the Sheikh's Arms / Sheikh Surgeon

Now his hands brushed against her, feathering up her legs, over her buttocks, her hips, her waist, to her breasts, heavy with the weight of desire. Moist heat pooled between her legs as she looked deep into his eyes. They were glazed with an excitement that matched her own.

Cotton bunched in her fingers. She lifted the weight of his robe, scrabbling a little as the fabric shifted. Underneath the material she felt tantalising traces of his body—the heavy weight of his muscled thigh as she bent low, the angle of his hip-bone and the ridged muscles of his abdomen. There was a hiss of breath as she shoved the robe higher, her hand sliding across his chest. Then he bent his head, allowed her to draw the garment off him and toss it away.

A weight settled on her chest, pressing down, making it hard to breathe as she skimmed his body with her gaze.

He was magnificent.

‘If you look at me like that, this will be over before it’s begun.’

She slanted a look up at his face. He seemed to be in pain, so great was the tension there. Had she done that to him? Her presence? Her body? It was a heady thought.

‘Get in the bath, Rosalie, and I’ll join you in a moment.’ His voice was soft, a whisper. But he’d lost his smooth tones. Now his words were rough, as if something grated deep inside him. The sound was a primal message of barely restrained hunger that fed her excitement.

Quickly she turned and stepped into the deep bath, luxuriating in the feel of warm water sliding against her bare skin. In the knowledge that Arik would be with her soon.

He almost groaned aloud as he watched her descend into the foam. That peach-ripe derrière, the long, long legs, the indentation of her waist, so small he could almost span it with his hands. He fumbled, rolling on the condom. His whole body was shaking, throbbing with the force of his desire.

She turned, her eyes wide as she watched him lower himself into the bath, reminding him that, for all her enthusiasm and her natural sensuality, Rosalie was a woman of little experience.

The shock on her face as they’d become one, the wonder in her expression as she’d scaled the heights of passion, the hesitant way she’d embraced him at first…it had almost been like making love to a virgin.

The experience had been new to him. Far too quickly he’d become hooked by the thrill of surprising her, of teaching her about her body’s own sweet secrets. And when she’d reciprocated, caressing him, moving with him, it had been as if together they’d ignited dynamite. The explosive force of their joint climax had deserved a Richter scale warning.

He was a man who enjoyed women. Enjoyed sex. He was a man of some experience. But nothing, ever, had matched the sheer ecstasy of making love to Rosalie Winters.

He’d wanted her again almost immediately. Even now he couldn’t say how he’d managed to tear himself away long enough for her to recover and to phone home.

It would be the challenge of a lifetime to take this slow. She was temptation personified. She looked at him with those huge green eyes, her lips pouted and pink, her nipples teasing him, just peeping up through the bubbles when she moved. Involuntarily he throbbed in response, just at the sight of her.

He turned and wrenched off the taps, wishing he could turn off his libido, or at least slow it down long enough to wrest control.

‘Come here, Rosalie.’ He lifted a hand in invitation and immediately she slid along the seat that edged the deep bath. Her hand rested in his and he drew her closer. He felt her hip beside his and immediately turned to claim her, one hand at her neck, as he slanted his mouth over hers, the other wrapping round her waist.

She was unique. He’d only known the taste of her for a few days and yet he craved it more than food or drink. She tilted her head back, allowing him better access to her mouth, and he took it, delving deeply, possessively, as he pressed her slippery form against his. He thrust a thigh between hers and felt the little jitter of reaction race through her body.

He smiled against her mouth. She was so ready.

When he cupped her breast in his palm she pushed against his hand, a sound like a hungry purr rolling deep in her throat. She slid against him, her hips circling, and he let his weight rest against her.

If he wanted he could take her now. With one swift movement he could possess her. Fierce heat pumped in his bloodstream at the thought of taking her hard and fast right now. Completion would be only seconds away.

But he held back. He wanted to give her more than a quick, hard coupling. And to do that he needed to hold out against the barbaric impulse to ravish. Somehow he had to find finesse. He needed to forget his own needs and—

Lightning struck to his heart as her small hand closed round him. He shuddered, surging forward into her intimate caress, unable to temper his hungry response. His tongue probed her mouth as he pushed against her hand, exulting in the sensation even as he recognised it wasn’t enough.

‘Don’t!’ The word was a low growl as he gripped her shoulders and leaned back. ‘Don’t touch me.’

‘You don’t like it?’ There was no teasing lilt to her voice and her eyes were serious. Something hard knotted tight in his chest at the sight of her doubt, the way she bit down on her lush bottom lip as if afraid she’d done the wrong thing.

She genuinely didn’t know what she did to him!

Breathing raggedly, Arik cupped her chin in his palm and felt her racing pulse flutter beneath her chin. He looked deep into her eyes, drawn by her honesty, registering her confusion.

‘I love the feel of your hand on me, Rosalie. Too much.’

Her mouth opened in a delicious pout of surprise and Arik cursed the need for restraint. He dragged in an unsteady breath as desire warred with caution. ‘That’s the problem. That’s why you have to stop.’

Instantly her hold on him tightened and another searing jolt of heat surged through him. He thrust against her, helpless to resist.

He drew in deep, scouring lungfuls of air and sought for strength. Strength to resist her.

His hand trembled as he gripped her wrist and drew her hand away, sliding his fingers through hers and holding her hand between them. With his other hand he reached down to cup her breast, squeezing gently till she sighed her pleasure. She moved restlessly against him, her body responding sinuously to his caresses. He took her mouth again and arrowed his hand down to the tender place between her thighs, exploring, probing, till she gasped and bucked into his touch.

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