In Too Deep_ Husband Material & the Sheikh's Bargained Bride - Brenda Jackson [35]
Her breath caught in her lungs as she leaned back on the king-size, white-lace-covered bed. He’d walk in any second now.
Seconds stretched. Then she heard his receding footsteps.
She sat up, stunned. He’d called only so she’d come out, and walked away when she hadn’t, rather than be in a bedroom with her? Why?
Then you call him, you moron. Find out why. Once and for all.
“Adham.”
But she was too late. The door clicked closed behind him.
And she couldn’t take it anymore. She exploded from the bed, running after him.
She called out again as she pursued him. But even though he must have heard her, he strode ahead undeterred.
This time, so would she. She had to get to the bottom of this or lose her mind.
She ran after him through the maze of a dazzling parterre, her heels grinding the gravel paths. She caught up with him before he lowered himself into the driver’s seat of a gleaming black Jaguar that seemed like an extension of him, of his power and potency.
He turned to her, his eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, his face blank. God. She missed his smile.
“Sabrina.” That revving R, underlining his exotic origins, shuddered through her again. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I’d be narcoleptic if I were asleep every time you think I am.”
He didn’t smile. Probably because of the bitterness that had stained her tone.
He looked down the eight inches between them—even with her three-inch heels—the wealth of his rain-straight hair gleaming like a raven’s wing in the midday summer sun. She almost moaned as everything about him bombarded her. His scent, his size, his beauty. He’d changed out of the casual clothes he’d worn while piloting the helicopter out to the Hamptons into one of those designer suits that made him look almost intimidating. At thirty-four, he was the epitome of everything male, of what she’d never imagined could be gathered in one man. And he was her husband. Yet he wasn’t really hers at all.
Suddenly, all thoughts, all existence disappeared.
Adham was taking off his sunglasses, his golden eyes flaring with their emerald highlights, reaching out a hand to cup her face in a possessive palm. His thumb stroked her cheek, skimmed over her trembling lips, dipping into their moistness, spreading it over them, setting everything he touched on fire.
“You look edible, ya jameelati.”
Hearing him call her “my beauty,” and the way he was gazing at her as if he did want to devour her, thundered through her.
Her response was so fierce, it sent indignation rippling through her. “I look exactly the same as I did this morning. I haven’t even changed out of my traveling clothes.”
“Then I beg your forgiveness for not noticing. I had too many urgencies on my mind. But that’s no excuse. Nothing should have distracted me from kanzi, aroosi—my treasure, my bride.”
Before she could process his words, or register the surge of joy they elicited, his hand slid to her nape, holding her head captive, the other gathering her around her waist and lifting her off the ground, plastering her against his steel-fleshed body.
“Adham…” was all she gasped before his lips took hers.
He drank her moans, thrusting his tongue inside her, occupying her, intoxicating her. “Aih, gooly esmi haik—say my name like that, like you can’t draw breath with wanting me.”
“I can’t….” She writhed in his arms, not caring that they were out in the open. She’d starved for him.
He turned, pressing her against the back passenger door, thrust against her, his daunting erection digging into her quivering stomach, his knee driving between her melting thighs.
One thing was left inside her mind, looping in a frenzied litany. He wants me again.
“I would say get a room, but we’re standing in front of a mansion with sixteen suites. And by the look of it, you’ve probably made thorough use of each and every one of them.”
The