The Sheik and the Princess in Waiting(Desert Rogues, Book 7)(59) by Susan Mallery
She claimed to be someone different from that scared young woman, yet was she any more willing to fight for what she wanted? If she loved Reyhan, she needed to tell him. If she wanted a chance at making their marriage work, then she would have to fight for him.
She tossed down the report and scrambled to her feet. She wasn’t going to wait another second. They belonged together and she was going to help him see that.
No matter how long it took.
She raced down the stairs. Once she reached the main floor, she called out his name as she ran from room to room. She burst into the bedroom he’d been using just as he stepped out of the bathroom.
He wore nothing but a towel, and both it and the bandage were white against his skin. Her throat closed as she remembered the last time they’d been in this position—how he’d rejected her. Determined not to be swayed by fear of rejection and his pride, she squared her shoulders.
“We have to talk,” she told him.
His dark eyes burned with a fire she recognized. Her insides quivered slightly and her thighs trembled.
The single word didn’t frighten her. He wasn’t going to get his way—not anymore.
This was too important to let his pride win. Of course if he really didn’t care about her at all, she was about to experience the most humiliating moment of her life, but she had to be willing to risk it all if she wanted to win it all.
“I know you want me,” she said, crossing the room to stand directly in front of him.
“Desire means nothing,” he told her, turning his back on her. “It is simply a reaction.”
“To all women or just to me?” She walked up behind him and placed her hands on his bare shoulders. “What happens when I touch you, Reyhan? I know what happens to me. My insides melt while my whole body starts to ache with a hunger I can barely control.” She stroked the length of his spine. “My breathing quickens.
There is fire everywhere.”
His skin was smooth, his muscles unyielding. When her fingers reached the edge of the towel, he shuddered.
“You’re so sleek and strong,” she murmured, then pressed a kiss to his back.
“Straight to my curves, hard to my soft. Is it just me?” she asked. “Tell me.”
He turned on her with a roar that could have been anger or passion or maybe both. He reached for her and hauled her against him, apparently unaware or unconcerned about his bullet wound.
She was more than willing to ignore it, too, as he kissed her with a need that was even stronger than her own. There were no preliminarily kisses, no soft queries. Instead he took her mouth and claimed her. His lips pressed against hers with a pressure that had her arching against him.
More, she thought frantically as she clung to him and kissed him back. She
wanted it all.
His tongue swept over and around hers even as he pushed and tugged at her clothing. She wore only a T-shirt and jeans, but they were too much of a barrier when all she had to do was tug at his towel to undress him.
And then he was naked and she didn’t worry about her own clothing. Not when she could reach her hand between them and touch his arousal.
As her fingers closed over him, he groaned, then swore and tore his mouth away.
“Get these damn clothes off!” he demanded.
She looked into his eyes and laughed softly. “Impatient, are we?”
“I’ll die if I don’t have you now.”
“Good. Because that’s exactly how I feel.”
She pulled off her T-shirt and kicked off her sandals while he worked on her jeans. Her bra went next, then she pulled down her panties.
The next second she was falling onto the bed and Reyhan was on top of her.
“I want you,” he breathed. “Emma, I need you.”
Uncontrollable desire tightened his features. She felt his need, because it was her own. She understood his dilemma even as she reached between them and guided him inside of her.
“You’re not ready,” he protested, trying to hold back.
She knew she was hot, wet and slick. “Yes, I am.”
He plunged into her and they both cried out. Within seconds they were lost in a frenzy of sensation and wanting. She pulled him closer, wanting him deeper. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, before claiming her mouth. She wrapped her legs around him and as her orgasm approached had to break the kiss to gasp for air.
“Reyhan,” she breathed as her body stiffened before convulsing into release.
He continued to fill her over and over until the shudders faded. It was only then that he groaned out her name and was still.
She closed her eyes and let herself relax into his embrace. Her need for him hadn’t faded, only shifted. Now she wanted to be as emotionally connected as they had been physically.
Reyhan withdrew and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so that she draped across his chest.
“We should not have done that,” he said as he stroked her hair.
“Because you’re worried about me getting pregnant,” she said.
“That is one consideration. Eventually the odds will catch up with us.”
They already had. Emma felt time shift and bend and suddenly she was eighteen,
alone in her room and crying. Pain filled her body, but not from a physical source. Instead she felt the ache of being alone and so lost, she would never find her way back.
“What?” he asked, continuing to touch her hair. “Where have you gone? I see such sadness in your eyes.”
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