The Sultan's Harem Bride by Annie West

Author:Annie West [West, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460349878
Google: Gf6oBAAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00O94W3Z8
Barnesnoble: B00O94W3Z8
Goodreads: 23168435
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2015-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

ASIM LEANED INTO HER, chest heaving, trembling in the aftermath of a climax that had blown him apart. Stars faded behind his closed lids.

He nuzzled the tender skin at the base of her neck, inhaling the scent of summer-ripened apricots. She shuddered and clenched around him one last time and impossibly he felt a flicker of renewed response.

Virile he might be but Jacqueline Fletcher pushed him to limits he’d never thought possible.

Was that why he’d sought her out in Samira’s rooms rather than whittle down the list of bridal candidates? He’d returned from his ride determined to give that task his full attention and instead he’d given in to temptation again. He hadn’t been able to settle as the clock had passed the hour for their usual appointment.

It disturbed him, how his usual control deserted him around her.

‘Asim?’ He loved hearing her voice like this, low and breathy. ‘You should put me down.’

For answer he widened his stance, wedging her tighter against the wall, her legs still around his waist. He didn’t want to let her go. He wanted her right where she was.

How long would it take to convince her she wasn’t too tall or her perfect breasts too small? That she was beautiful? It didn’t matter. He enjoyed demonstrating how wrong she was.

Except one day he’d have to put her aside when he took a wife. The realisation exploded his sense of well-being.

Some internal organ he couldn’t identify clenched hard in denial.

He distracted himself by kissing her bare shoulder. ‘You have the most perfect skin,’ he murmured. ‘Like cream. How did you grow up in Australia and not get covered in freckles?’

‘I have freckles!’

‘A smattering on your nose and a couple on your hands, no more.’

‘My mother insisted I cover up in the sun and I kept the habit of wearing long sleeves. It wasn’t difficult. Summers in Tasmania are short.’

She wriggled and reluctantly Asim decided it was time to move. The condom needed disposal, then they should talk.

Minutes later, after a slow kiss that left Jacqueline satisfyingly silent and starry-eyed, Asim headed for the bathroom.

His jaw set as he saw his reflection in the mirror. The dishevelled clothes didn’t bother him, but the unfamiliar expression in his eyes did. It was more than sexual satisfaction. More than smugness at having silenced the most argumentative, feisty woman he knew.

There was something disturbing about that look. He wished he knew what it was. Just as he wished he understood his feelings for Jacqueline.

They were lovers—simple.

Yet he’d never let any woman so close. Physical intimacy was one thing, but she’d inveigled her way into other parts of his life, his work, his thoughts, even his decision making.

He’d come after her to warn her about Samira. Not to warn her off—and that was another disturbing factor. With Jacqueline he’d slid too easily past distrust into acceptance that she was a woman of honour who wouldn’t harm his sister.

Asim breathed sharply, bewildered by his faith in her. Such trust went against every instinct.

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