How exactly they got onto the bed he wasn’t sure. And that was remarkable to a man used to taking the lead in sexual encounters.
Their legs entwined as they lay facing each other. The way she looked at him made his chest swell. But there was no time to ponder unaccustomed feelings. His need was too strong. Especially with delicate feminine fingers urging him nearer.
It was the work of a moment to roll her onto her back and settle between her splayed thighs. Ashraf’s mouth curved in a tense smile. He appreciated her complete lack of coyness now she’d decided to stop fighting.
The only fight now was his own as he battled sensory overload—her silky skin, the beckoning heat teasing his groin, her piquant feminine perfume and the sight of her achingly beautiful breasts jiggling with each breath.
Tori stroked his shoulders restlessly, her eyes brilliant as gems. Ashraf knew he should take his time, savour every second, but he also knew his limits.
‘Next time,habibti,’ he murmured as he captured one of her hands.
‘Next time what?’
‘Next time we’ll take it slow.’
He caught her other wrist and lifted both hands above her head, holding them with firm fingers. He watched her eyebrows lift, but though she could have broken his grasp she didn’t try.
‘I don’t want slow.’
Her words ignited the blaze he’d tried to bank down. She’d barely stopped speaking when he pushed her thighs wider, grinding himself against her core. His gaze fixed on her face and the arrested expression there. Her look, the feel of their bodies together, were delight and torture together. More than flesh and blood could withstand.
‘Nor do I.’
He slid his free hand between them, feeling her lush wetness, the hungry pulse of her body as he probed, hearing her swift intake of breath. A second later his hand was beneath her bottom, tilting her towards him as he bore down in one long, steady push that left him centred within her.
Sweat broke out at his nape and his brow. Muscles seized as the full reality of their joining penetrated his brain.
He had waited so long for her. Since that night in the desert he’d taken no lover, telling himself he was too busy. Now he understood with a flash of terrible insight that he hadn’t wanted any woman but this one.
The realisation took a millisecond—less time than it took to draw breath. Yet it rocketed through him like the rush of a desert sandstorm, blanketing all thought.
Then primitive instinct took over.
Ashraf’s mouth went to her breast, drawing hard, making her cry out and wrap her legs around his waist, rising against him in hungry desperation. A desperation that matched his own.
He erupted in a storm of movement. He withdrew and thrust harder, deeper than before, setting up a rhythm that matched the hammer beat of blood in his ears and the rough syncopation of their breathing.
It seemed only seconds before he felt the first fluttery tremors deep in her body. Setting his jaw and stiffening his arms, he tried to withstand the drag of delicious sensation as her climax shuddered through her. But the expression in those eyes locked on his, the sound of her desperate gasps, even the way she clutched him, as if he were the only solid point in a swirling universe, amplified the ecstasy he felt as she convulsed into orgasm.
‘Ash! Ash, please!’
It was too late. Her pleasure became his. The clench of her muscles blasted him off the edge and into an oblivion so deep he knew nothing but the pleasure-pain of rapture.
When his senses returned he was trembling all over like a newborn foal. His pounding heart filled his ears and his strength was gone, leaving him plastered across her pliant body.
‘Victoria...’ It was a silent gasp against the fragrant skin of her throat. There was nothing else except this woman and the aftershocks of explosive passion racking a body he was sure would never move again.
She filled his every sense. He nuzzled her throat, needing even now to be connected to her. And then the hands grabbing his shoulders slid down his back. Her arms wrapped tight around his middle as if she, too, needed to be as near as possible.
She planted a kiss on his shoulder and he felt her lips curve. ‘Thank you, Ash.’
With a superhuman effort he lifted his head. Forget-me-not eyes met his. They were heavy-lidded and she wore a dreamy smile. This was how he wanted her—sexy, warm and biddable. And the way she used the shortened form of his name pointed to another barrier smashing down between them.
Ashraf’s mouth tilted up in an answering smile. ‘Thankyou,habibti.’
They might be together because of the child she’d borne, but he knew in the very marrow of his bones that this was the right thing.
His hold on her tightened.
His woman. Soon to be his wife.