Desert Prince, Expectant Mother (Contemporary Medicial Romance) by Olivia Gates

Author:Olivia Gates [Gates, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Romance, Fiction, Medicial, Prince, Mother-To-Be, Expectant, Surgeon, Love At First Sight, Volunteer, Organization, Out Of Country, Crown Prince, Desert, Surgical Trainer, Unborn Child
ISBN: 9780263863192
Google: 4kAnBgAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 8253486
Publisher: Harlequin Medical Romances
Published: 2015-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

LARISSA felt her plea pummeling Faress.

He lurched and his hand stilled, his lips froze on her neck. Tension buzzed through every muscle imprinted on hers. Then slowly, so slowly, he rose above her, his face taut, his breathing harsh, his eyes unreadable.

He’d be justified to think she’d been leading him on, to even disregard her flimsy demand, give her what her body was screaming for.

But she had no doubt he wouldn’t. Faress would never impose himself on her, on any woman. Not even after she’d led him on. But how she wished she could tell him to forget her outburst, to just take her, now.

But she couldn’t let him take her, share ultimate intimacies with her, not under false pretenses. And it would be just that with him still ignorant of the truth. He probably wouldn’t want to come near her when he finally learned it.

But how could she tell him now? Ghada’s death had nearly destroyed him. How could she tell him that he’d lost his brother too? The brother he kept talking about with such love and longing? Jawad’s death had been over two months ago, but to him it would happen the moment he learned of it. She couldn’t inflict another beloved sibling’s death on him now.

She could only do one thing. Beg his forgiveness.

She didn’t hope she’d obtain it. She’d given him the first reason to think the worst of her. And just thinking she’d lose his good opinion brought on again the tears that had dried in the heat of her hunger.

“Faress, please, forgive me, I needed to be with you, b-but I—I…” And she could say no more.

Faress raised himself on arms so stiff they wouldn’t have felt more painful with an infarction. But the agony was the urge to fill their emptiness with her beloved body.

He filled his sight and senses, his memory, with her instead as she lay spread beneath him, beyond his fantasies, lush and vital and all female, his female, aflame in the dark solitude of his bed, exposed and vulnerable and the most overwhelming power he’d ever known. Her power over him was absolute. And she was cradling him in the only place he’d ever call home, the moist heat of her welcome unraveling his sanity.

But what was shriveling his heart was the sight of her tears, tears of distress again, the pummeling memory of what she’d come here confessing, sharing. Her similar, mutilating loss. The loss he would have given anything to discover, to heal. And what had he done when she’d finally worked up the fortitude to talk about it, if only under the pressure of catastrophic circumstances and the need to offer him solace? He’d swept her to his bed.

And she’d begged his forgiveness. Ya Ullah.

He should be the one on his knees, asking hers. If she hadn’t asked him to stop, he would have been lost inside her now, minutes away from release. And it didn’t matter that he knew he would have given her the same pleasure.

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