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Then she slammed back to the bed beneath him. Aftershocks surged in a current inside her. He’d drained her of every spark her nervous system was capable of. She felt irrevocably sated.

But she knew better. He’d whisper in her ear, touch her with his gaze, beckon with his fingers and she’d go up in flames again.

He came down on top of her, letting her feel his beloved weight for a minute, before he twisted to his back, taking her with him, draping her over him like a blanket.

He caressed her back and hair, still hard inside her. “It was merciful I lived these past weeks with only the memory of our first night together. If I’d known that our belated wedding night would be a thousand times better, I would have probably lost my mind.”

She smiled into his chest, gratification sweeping through her that his feelings so exactly echoed hers. “Or you might not have tormented us so long. If I’d known, I might have provoked you into losing your control much sooner.”

“So you’re admitting you provoked me on purpose.”

She giggled. “If only I could claim that I did.”

His chuckles revved below her ears as his arms tightened around her. Feeling him stir inside her, feeling her own body blossom once more for him, she sighed in contentment, “You know, you’re overwhelming anyway, but in passion, you’re annihilating.”

“Look who’s talking.” In one swift move, he rolled her over, bringing her facedown as he mounted her from behind.

She arched into him, ready again, impatient. “That’s not a complaint. I can’t wait to be devastated, over and over.”

And throughout the night and early morning hours, she was.

Eight

Sabrina opened her eyes in her husband’s bed.

Adham. Her husband. For real. At last.

For several golden moments, tranquil and content, she lay there, savoring the knowledge, the soreness of satiation.

But it had been so much more than sex they’d shared. Adham had deep feelings for her. They might not be as complete as hers were for him, but they were pure and powerful. And they were growing. She’d make sure they never stopped.

They might have started out the wrong way, for the wrong reasons, but it didn’t matter. They were right for each other. Perfect. And her love for him had broken through his preconceptions, had made him release all the emotion he’d struggled to suppress, thinking he shouldn’t feel anything for her, his convenient bride.

She now relived the moments when she’d opened her eyes hours ago, arched into his embrace, offered herself to him. Even three-quarters asleep, she’d been disappointed to feel clothes instead of his nakedness pressing down on her. He’d said he needed to see Sebastian, telling her to sleep off the exhaustion he’d caused her. She had blinked out the moment he’d closed the door.

But her battery was charged now. Overcharged. And there was no way she could bear waiting for him to come home.

She’d go bring him back to bed herself.

Thirty minutes later, she parked her car in the driveway of the Tudor-style Hughes Mansion.

She was let into a cathedral-ceiling hallway, and the butler informed her that Adham and Sebastian were in the living room. She told him to point her their way—she’d announce herself. She wanted to see Adham’s reaction to her presence—the first surge of pleasure that would light his eyes—firsthand.

She approached the door, debating whether to knock or just enter. The decision was made for her when she found the door ajar. She was about to make her presence known when something Sebastian was saying froze her in her tracks.

“I have to give it to you, Adham, that was one hell of a show you put on yesterday. I can’t buy publicity like that. The Bridgehampton Polo Club will not only be associated with priceless horses and A-list celebrities but with the drama of the uncontrollable passions of desert princes and their gorgeous, rebellious American wives. I project attendance will triple next year.”

“Not that I’m unhappy the club might benefit from my actions,” Adham said, “but that wasn’t among the things