In Too Deep_ Husband Material & the Sheikh's Bargained Bride - Brenda Jackson [54]
Everything stilled inside her, desperation and anguish extinguished like a candle in a hurricane.
He wanted her, too? It hadn’t been an act to make her succumb to his plans? He’d tried to keep it business, but his desire for her was overriding his intentions and his control?
If this was true, then his desire was fiercer than anything she’d wished for. This meant there was hope for their marriage. Far more hope than she’d dared imagine. “Adham…I don’t…”
He misinterpreted what she’d started saying and overrode her. “You do. I can feel your desire, can sense it. Your body is humming with need for me against your will—seeking, offering, begging for mine. I can feel your heart racing mine, your blood thundering below my fingertips.”
She would have been mortified that he could read her reactions so explicitly if her reserves of mortification hadn’t been depleted thinking of the scandal they were creating. And if she didn’t want him to know how he made her feel. But now she did.
Then everything ceased. Adham wrenched his lips from her neck, raising his head only to swoop down again to claim her mouth.
She cried out at the feel of his heat and moistness, of his tongue driving inside her, rubbing against hers. His growls poured into her, welling in surges of pleasure throughout her body.
He finished her, drained her, layering arousal in bolts to her breasts, her gut, her core. Heat built until she writhed with it, opening herself up, inviting his domination.
He raised her, brought his erection grinding into her long-molten core. Sensation sharpened, cleaving a cry from her depths.
And despite the pounding in her head, the shearing from her lungs and his, she felt it.
The commotion of curiosity and amusement and disbelief. The shuffling and whirs and flashes of people rushing to document their mindless disregard of everything but their conflagration.
He raised his head, his eyes almost black and unseeing as they panned the crowd surrounding them. Then, with a growl, he bent, hauling her high in his arms.
“I’m taking you home, Sabrina.” His words held the conviction and power of a pledge. “And I’m making you mine, in every way. Tonight and forever.”
Seven
Sabrina clung to Adham’s neck as he strode out of the tent, the whole world receding from her awareness, shrinking to the confines of his body.
She registered nothing but its powerful perfection moving against hers with his every stride, his hands rhythmically squeezing her flesh. She saw his face clenched on such drive and felt weakness invading her every muscle, in preparation to have all this ferocity unleashed on her.
She didn’t know how long he’d walked or what distance he’d covered. Time was suspended, space was compacted, until she found herself inside a limo with dark windows and a soundproof, mirrored partition. Adham laid her down and came to rest on top of her. Her legs opened in eagerness to accommodate his bulk. He lay over her, giving her what she needed of his weight, supporting enough of it so as not to oppress her. He devoured her lips, his hands everywhere, creating erogenous zones all over her, his hips driving between her splayed thighs in a simulation of the possession she was quaking for.
She heard her voice, thick and choppy, pleading for him. He rose off her, dragging her up. She swayed with the car’s smooth movement as it shot across the streets, with the imbalance he’d struck inside her, feeling as if the burn in her blood would consume her if she didn’t get under his skin. “Sabrina, galbi, I need to feel your desire, taste your pleasure.”
Before she could understand what he meant or tell him he could do whatever he liked with her, he hauled her on his lap, her back to his front, her thighs splitting wide