‘Perhaps I give you a hard time because I don’t want you to rest on your laurels. Or...’ he drawled in an even deeper, lower voice, ‘perhaps giving you a hard time is my way of coping.’
She stopped breathing altogether. ‘Coping with what?’ Her voice was just above a husky murmur.
‘With the fact that I want you in my bed, beneath me, more than I want sustenance,’ he admitted gruffly.
The warm glow erupted into an inferno, but a large dose of confusion remained. ‘Then why haven’t you done anything...or said anything before now?’
He gave an elegant roll of one shoulder that was more an animalistic stretch than a shrug. ‘It was supposed to be a noble act. I wanted you to get embedded in your role without distractions. I was going to wait until we returned to my palace before making you mine.’
‘But...?’
‘But I find that there’s only so much altruism I can stomach before I’m driven insane by the need to have you,’ he growled.
Esme barely had time to brace herself against the wall of formidable man that came at her. Her scarf was tugged loose and disposed of, and the hair she’d pinned up minutes ago was freed within seconds, even as he bore her back against the cushions.
His large, muscular body covered hers, and his lips met hers in a hot, demanding kiss she felt all the way to her toes. She’d thought the first time they’d kissed that it couldn’t get any better, that the need inside her couldn’t get larger or hungrier.
But as her fingers tunnelled through his thick hair with urgency and greed, Esme was introduced to another level of need so great she actually whimpered with the thought of it going unsatisfied. Whether he sensed it or not, Zaid fed that need with renewed vigour, mouth and tongue and teeth ravaging hers in a relentless erotic dance that had her already dizzy senses spinning.
Strong muscled thighs parted hers, and he settled himself more firmly over her. As if he already owned the right to be there. Esme knew she’d given him that right, that with her silence these past three weeks she’d completely accepted that this was going to happen.
She would give her virginity to Sultan Zaid Al-Ameen.
A jet of alarm sprouted inside her, attempting to cool the blazing fires. She didn’t need lessons in sex and sexuality to know twenty-five-year-old virgins were as rare as hen’s teeth. But whereas the choice not to explore her sexuality had been solidly accepted and acceptable in her own mind, suddenly it occurred to her that it might not be the case from another’s perspective.
The possibility of disappointing him suddenly loomed large in her mind, tossing another bucket of cold water over her frenzied senses.
The warm pads of his fingers drifted down her cheek, insisting on her attention and immediately receiving it. Brought back to the stunning desert oasis and the equally stunning, virile male whose eyes broadcast his ravenous hunger for her, she almost managed to convince herself her worries weren’t warranted. A shaky sigh escaped her as he lowered his head, trailing kisses on her bottom lip and along her jaw. ‘I’m attempting not to allow the fact that I’ve clearly lost your interest to dent my ego too much,’ he drawled in her ear.
Short, shocked laughter barked out of her. To think he was remotely disturbed by the same worry that plagued her! ‘Your ego has nothing to worry about from me.’
She sobered when he raised his head and she saw the speculative gleam swirling in his eyes. ‘You want me,’ he stated, a touch arrogantly, his hand leaving her cheek to chart a path of fire down her throat to the open neckline of her tunic.
She couldn’t deny it, although the depth of it shocked her. ‘Yes, I want you,’ she gasped.
A rough inhalation expanded his chest as his lips continued to wreak havoc on her bare skin. ‘Now we’ve got the most important detail out of the way, tell me the source of your second thoughts and I will deal with them.’
Esme bit her lip. Dared she risk telling him? Would he care? What if he stopped making love to her?
She held her breath as he raised his head again, the speculation much more intense this time. ‘Esmeralda, what is it?’ he demanded.
She slicked lips gone dry. ‘I’m feeling a little bit out of my depth. I... I haven’t done this before,’ she stuttered.
He stared silently down at her for a full minute before he jumped lithely to his feet. The realisation that she’d lost him that quickly, that easily, stunned her so completely she stared mutely at him for endless seconds before she noticed the hand he was holding out to her. Warily, she placed her hand in his.
The moment she was upright, he swung her up into his arms. Esme’s eyes widened.
‘Zaid...’
He silenced her with a swift kiss before he strode out of the living room with long, purposeful strides. A short corridor later they walked through another opening and arrived in what could only be termed as the most masculine space she’d ever seen.
Animal-skin rugs graced the floor. Bold works of embroidered art hung on the walls. And in the middle of the floor a fire pit blazed with an intricate meshed metal dome that kept the flames contained.
But it was the bed that dominated her attention. Although it stood no higher than three feet off the floor, the emperor-sized bed, laid on exquisitely carved timber pallets, was enthralling in itself, even before the blinding-white satin sheets and the countless richly coloured pillows and cushions that graced the vast surface. Everything in the room screamed sensuality and endless luxury.
It also screamed that this place was reserved for those steeped in the art of lovemaking, and not for innocents such as herself.
The sensation of being out of her depth grew to stomach-churning proportions. She drew in another shaky breath as he lowered her to her feet.