Bedded By The Desert King. Susan Stephens

him she was no such thing. When they were both sated and his mind clear again, he would return to Zaddara and take up his duties. This would be his last self-indulgence before duty claimed him.

      And now there was only one thing still plucking at his mind. According to Zaddaran tradition there was no such thing as coincidence; there was only destiny.

      She went to check her camera and as he looked at her something inside him softened briefly. ‘You may take a handful of photographs if you wish—but only of objects and your surroundings. As an aide-memoire for your trip,’ he added. He wasn’t prepared for the look on her face of sheer surprised delight and found it gave him pleasure to please her.

      ‘That’s very good of you. I promise I’ll be quick…’ She reached for the camera. ‘I know I haven’t exactly been the easiest guest. Do you forgive me?’

      As she turned her face up to him, he wanted to tell her just how much. The appeal in her eyes made his heart turn over which, as far as he could recall, had never happened before. The offer of the photographs had changed something. It was almost as if an understanding, a bond, had developed between them.

      She was scrupulously fair and obviously knew what she was doing. She took a few shots of the tent and some objects and then put the camera away. ‘There, I’ve finished. Thank you…’

      His gaze was drawn to her lips, reddened where she had chewed on them while she was concentrating on her work. And now there were questions in her eyes: Did he find her attractive? Did he want her? Did he want her enough to make love to her? The answer to all three was, of course, yes. Her lips were slightly parted and damp where she had moistened them. She wasn’t afraid to hold his gaze. She was beautiful and she was ready, and she was waiting for him to make the first move.

      ‘Three days and three nights?’ She made it sound like a request. And, as she stared at him, his hunger surged to a new level. He had expected many things of his retreat in the desert, but not this forwardness of a young woman who had appeared out of nowhere like a gift…

      ‘And then we will part asking nothing of each other,’ he confirmed.

      As silence descended between them they both knew it could only have one outcome. And it was a delicious moment that neither one of them wanted to break. It took a ferocious gust of wind to bring her into his arms and, as she rested her head against his chest, he silently praised the storm for wrestling with the tent.

      There was barely enough time to inhale Abbas’s delicious scent and feel his warmth seeping through the flimsy fabric of her robe before he swung her into his arms. ‘We’d ask nothing of each other?’ Zara repeated Abbas’s words back to him in a whisper.

      ‘Only this,’ he murmured, carrying her towards his bed.

      She felt so safe that even the sand rattling against the sides of the tent seemed to be in another world. Her body was tuned to his, waiting for his touch, eager to feed on the passion she knew he possessed. He was so restrained, so controlled; to see him lose that was the only thing she wanted now. When he lowered her to the bed she reached up to draw him down to her. Cupping her face in his warm hands, he kissed her deeply. The taste of him was delicious and addictive, the boldness of his tongue the most thrilling thing she had ever known. She wanted more, more of everything, more of Abbas. She wanted every part of him to be touching her and so she clung to him, pressing herself against him until he was forced to hold her away. She made a complaint at once, asking him, ‘Why…?’

      Abbas smiled against her mouth. ‘Your clothes,’ he murmured.

      Fortunately, she wasn’t wearing many, Zara thought, starting to wriggle her way out of the restrictive robe.

      ‘Let me…’

      ‘And yours,’ she ordered, impatient to feel him naked against her.

      Abbas had no inhibitions and, as he stripped off his robe, she sucked in an excited breath. He exceeded all her expectations. He was the most beautiful man she could have imagined. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she studied him boldly with the eye of an artist. He was like a living statue carved in bronze, with each muscle and sinew clearly delineated. Stroking him, she revelled in his strength and in the way he quivered beneath her touch. The expression in his eyes when he looked at her with approval was intoxicating. He was so big and so powerful and his muscles rippled as they wrestled together playfully. He allowed her to make all the moves, barely touching her, which in turn was the most arousing thing she had ever known. But he knew how to tease and each caress of his hand, each brush of his fingers, lit a separate fire.

      Catching hold of her hand, Abbas drew it to his lips. Zara gasped in surprise when he began to suckle each fingertip in turn. She could feel the sensation all over her skin. Crying out for him to be merciful, she sobbed with relief when at last he let her go, but almost at once she wanted him back again. And, when he would not fall in with her wishes immediately, she balled her hands into fists and pounded them against his chest, calling him angry names until he was forced to capture her wrists in one powerful fist and hold them firmly in place on the pillows above her head.

      She drew deeply on the fragrance of his skin and sighed with contentment. And, when at last he released her hands, it was her turn to take control—exploring the hard path of muscle, the inflexibility of bone, her fingers travelling slowly and provocatively until it was Abbas’s turn to sigh. She enjoyed the sensation of rough chest hair springing against her finger-pads and smiled to feel his nipples harden beneath her touch. Placing both her hands flat on his chest, she drew them slowly down over his torso across the impressive banding of muscle to where she could feel the heat of his erection.

      Brushing him lightly, she pulled away when he groaned with pleasure. She hadn’t expected him to be so big. The speed and strength of what was happening to her had not prepared her for this reality. And the reality of a man like Abbas was a great deal more than she had expected.

      But then he touched her softly, gently, and her courage began to return. If Abbas could tease, then so could she. And she hadn’t finished with him yet…

      Crouching up on her knees, she used her long hair to brush back and forth across his body, while Abbas made sounds of appreciation deep in his throat. For the first time she knew the power of her femininity and, growing in confidence, she swept her hair across his ribcage, moving gradually lower.

      To see Abbas quivering with anticipation was the most intoxicating thing Zara had ever experienced. She found she couldn’t stop watching his erection swell and pulse, and as it did so she felt her own body responding to the same urgent rhythm.