For the Sheikh's Pleasure by Annie West

Author:Annie West
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2007-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

‘I want to touch you, Rosalie.’ Arik was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. He teetered at the edge of his control, fiercely resisting the relentless urge to rip her clothes away and bury himself quick and deep in her soft waiting warmth.

He’d known urgent desire before, had more than enough experience to be able to temper his urges to ensure his partner was satisfied. Until now. The intensity of each sensation, the effect of watching Rosalie come alive at his touch, breathless and eager and somehow vulnerable, was something completely new to him.

His body felt as if it were on a rack, stretched almost to breaking-point by the weight of restraint placed upon it. Each muscle and sinew was stretched to the limit. But there was no alternative. He remembered the instant of doubt he’d seen in Rosalie’s face and knew he had no choice but to love her slowly. Even it if killed him.

Gently he pushed her shirt from her shoulders. She shrugged out of it and he tossed it away.

‘Touch me,’ he ordered, hungry for the feel of her against his bare skin. For a moment she didn’t move and then, slowly, so slowly he wanted to reach out and yank her hands against his chest, she reached up to him. Her fingers fumbled with a button. And then another. And then her hand slipped into his shirt, right over the spot where his heart pounded its message of hunger and painful control.

His eyes closed as he absorbed the sensation of her hand across his chest.

‘More,’ he demanded. The gentle exploration faltered and then, a moment later, her fingers worked his shirt buttons again. This time quickly, nimbly, and he sucked in a breath of relief. Another hurdle passed.

He waited till his shirt hung open, then shrugged his shoulders and shook it away. Opening his eyes, he found her staring, absorbed, as if committing to memory the sight of his bare torso. The look in her eyes did dangerous things to his ego. He felt like a hero, a god, not an ordinary man, when she looked at him like that.

She moved her hands over his chest, up and across, then circled down over muscles that spasmed at her touch. His arms trembled at the effort of remaining still under her caress.

‘You’re beautiful,’ she breathed.

‘No, Rosalie. But you are.’ He couldn’t resist the lure of such temptation any longer. He reached out and slid his hand behind her, making short work of her bra clasp, drawing her plain white, ridiculously seductive bra away in his hand.

There was a hiss of frantic breath. A moment of stunned appreciation, and then he was touching her, stroking his index finger under the curve of her full, luscious breasts, up between them, then down and across the rose-pink nipples that tightened into buds at his touch.

She was exquisite. Perfect. And the little tremors vibrating through her at his caress were delicious proof of her incredible sensuality.

He palmed one breast, felt its weight in his hand, smiling at the exact fit.

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