The Desert King's Pregnant Bride

He stood before her, magnificent and more beautiful than anything she’d seen in her life. The warm glow of the bedroom fire gilded his skin and cast shadows across his body. Each plane and curved muscle was thrown into relief. He was long-limbed, strong and virile. She’d never imagined a man could look so potent, so perfect.

Maggie pushed back a moment’s doubt, wondering if she should tell him she was a virgin. He wouldn’t have taken seriously her crack about being untouched.

But she didn’t want him having second thoughts now. A man such as this must have had many lovers. Would he be disappointed? Maggie quashed the worry as soon as it entered her brain.

For this one night she’d live for the moment, thrust caution aside and take what life had to offer.

Heat washed her as he reached into a bedside drawer to retrieve a foil packet and put it on the table.

She was grateful he’d thought of protection, but somehow this reminder of real-world responsibility made her feel awkward and nervous.

‘You have too many clothes on.’ His words short-circuited her thoughts. The sound of his voice drew her skin tight over her bones. Then his hands were on her, drawing the belt from her robe, slowly opening it, laying the sides wide so she lay virtually naked. He stood there, not saying a word as his gaze travelled the length of her body. She had time to feel anxious again, wondering what he thought of it.

He drew in a deep breath and Maggie watched, mesmerised, the movement of muscle and tendon tightening across his torso. He had the superb body of an athlete.

Then there was no chance for further thought as he bent and stripped the robe away, flinging it to the floor. A moment later he was crowding her back on the bed. His body was as hot as a furnace. Everywhere they touched she registered unfamiliar, exciting sensations. The brush of wiry hair as his legs tangled with hers. The impossibly erotic slide of his chest against her heated skin; hard-packed muscle and a drift of silky hair against her own sensitised breasts. And, lower, his heavy erection on her thigh.

Her breath shuddered as sensory overload hit.

But there was more to come. He lowered his head to her breast and ecstasy consumed her.

‘Khalid!’ Her hoarse cry was barely audible as she fought to catch her breath. The sensations coursing through her as he suckled, at first gently, then hard, stiffened her body in shocked delight. Then his hand was on her other breast, circling and teasing. She wondered if it was possible to die from pleasure. His body heat against hers was exquisitely exciting.

Her fingers speared through his thick hair, holding him close. Liquid heat throbbed through her bloodstream and pooled between her legs. An urgent longing filled her. She wanted him. Now.

But Khalid was in no hurry.

‘Patience, little one.’ He turned his attention to discovering her body with a single-minded intensity that made her head spin and her blood sing.

From her shoulder to her fingertips, from the sensitive place just behind her ear to her collarbone and her breasts, he took his time caressing, kissing, learning her. Arousing her. She sighed as he moved lower, to her navel, her hipbone, her thigh, even the back of her knee.

Pleasure rippled through her as sensation after sensation bombarded her. She grew alternately limp and stiff with excitement at his touch. The one constant was the ever-building need that grew stronger by the minute. Soon it was a throbbing ache.

Hours might have passed by the time he paused to reach out a hand to the bedside table. Then he was back, his hard hands tender, his breath hot on her sensitive inner thighs and higher, on the place where the heat scorched brightest and hottest.

She cried out as he caressed her there, at the very apex of her need, and she almost jolted off the bed as jagged lightning shot through.

She was burning up; she couldn’t breathe. Her pounding heart must surely suffocate her.

‘Khalid.’ Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she tried to drag him higher. Her legs twisted wide as instinctively she offered herself.

There was no doubt in her mind now. This was right. He was right. It was almost as if he was the one she’d been waiting for all this time.

The burgeoning realisation fractured into nothingness as he covered her body with his and she ceased to think.

He was heat and power, hard muscle and surprisingly silky skin. Maggie slipped her hands around his neck, her breath faltering as her breasts rubbed his chest.

Dark, fathomless eyes held hers and amidst the maelstrom of desire she felt…safe.

She hung on tight as he propped himself up on one arm and she felt the muscles in his shoulders ripple. His other hand moved down to touch her between her legs. His fingers glided through slick folds, over the throbbing nub and inexorably lower. Wildfire blazed in her bloodstream at his touch. Her body convulsed as he pushed inwards and her breath tore away.

For a long quivering moment she waited, eyes wide, fingers clenching tight in his hair as her body tugged at him. She saw his pulse jerk heavily in his throat and felt the throb of his erection against her.

She shifted against him, not sure how to proceed but knowing she’d die if he stopped now.

Clumsily she unwound an arm from around his neck and slid it down till her fingers curled around him. He came to life at her touch, pushing into her palm: hot, heavy and powerfully strong. Tentatively she squeezed.

A guttural rumble of Arabic near her ear might have been encouragement or an oath.

‘Stop!’

Instantly she loosened her hold.

Khalid’s lips were drawn back in a grimace of pain. Or pleasure? His eyes glittered febrile-bright as he stared down at her.

Then he moved and there were no more doubts. He braced himself over her as his palm spread her thighs wider. Her legs shook as she complied. He nudged at her entrance and instinctively she rose up to meet him.

He dipped his head to her neck, kissing and grazing her tender skin with his teeth as he pushed in. The movement was smooth, easy and impossibly long. Maggie experienced a strange sensation of fullness, of stretching, of weight and heat. There was discomfort at first, but when he stopped she couldn’t believe the feeling of oneness.

Khalid raised his head, a pinch of a frown marking the centre of his brow. He stared down at her through narrowed eyes for a long moment. Then raised a hand to her cheek in the gentlest of caresses. To her amazement Maggie registered a tiny tremor in his touch.

She turned her face into his palm, revelling in the slide of his callused fingers against her cheek.

‘You are a treasure. So generous,’ he murmured in a deep husky voice that curled her insides.

His mouth took hers in a sensuous kiss. His body moved away, then slid back, again and again in an easy rhythm that set incendiary sparks flying through her body. Frantically she hugged him, giving him back kiss for desperate kiss as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside her.

Then the fire they’d built consumed her in a flare of white-hot light and the world exploded around her, blotting out everything but the perfection of that single climactic moment that went on and on and on.

It was dark when Maggie woke. Time for her early start in the stables. Yet she didn’t stir. She felt lethargic, yet energised. She tingled with effervescent energy as if her bloodstream ran with champagne.

Her lips curved as she snuggled down on her pillow, enjoying the remarkable sense of well-being that filled her. She felt like a different woman. Not plain old Maggie Lewis. Then she registered the heat behind her. The living heat of another body.

Khalid.

Memory crashed upon her in a bitter-sweet tide.

She thought of last night, of Khalid’s passion and the way he’d made her feel…beautiful. She’d never been given such a gift before. She hugged the memory tight to herself.

When he’d made love to her she’d even, for a moment, believed herself to be a desirable woman.

The tentative curve of her lips faded. Her mouth flattened into a grim line. Her—desirable? No, she couldn’t fool herself like that. She was strong enough to face the truth.

Khalid had made love to her because she’d thrown herself at him. She’d seen the pity in his eyes. She’d read his initial unwillingness. She’d played on his sympathy and he’d read her desperation.

It didn’t matter that she’d needed him so badly she’d felt she might shatter with the force of her feelings. Or that their love-making had been the most wonderful experience in all her twenty-three years.

Last night she’d told herself she should grab what she wanted. Anger had welled at Marcus’s duplicity, at the dull, demanding life she’d accepted for so long, at the hurt she’d endured. She’d wanted for one night the powerful pleasure she’d known instinctively Khalid could give her.