Saved by the Sheikh! / Million-Dollar Marriage Merger: Saved by the Sheikh! / Million-Dollar Marriage Merger

It had all changed.

His tightly leashed control was in shreds.

All he could think about was tasting her again … and again.

Her fingers froze. “What are we doing?” She sounded as befuddled as he felt. “Anyone could walk in on us through those sliding doors.”

“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not true. This private pool and deck are part of my suite—my key card activated the entry doors onto the deck.”

Her breath caught—an audible sound. “Your suite? You said we’d have a drink…. I would never have entered your suite.”

She’d withdrawn. Her eyes had grown dark and distrustful. Rafiq gathered she was making unfavorable assumptions about his motives. He couldn’t blame her. “The bar downstairs is noisy—and full of inebriated men at this time of night. We wouldn’t have been able to hear ourselves think.” Much less talk.

“Oh …”

Unable to help himself he stroked a finger along the curve of her jaw. Soft curls trailed over the back of his hand. “You are very beautiful, do you know that?”

“Not beautiful.” She sounded distracted.

He stilled his fingers, and cupped the side of her face. Tilting it up, he looked down into her wide eyes. “Beautiful.”

She shook her head. “Not me. Pretty, maybe, at a stretch. But in this light you wouldn’t even be able to tell.”

No one could call her vain. “My eyes are not the only senses attuned to you. I don’t need bright intrusive light to remember that your eyes are the haunting tawny-brown shade of the desert sands streaked with the burnished gold of the setting sun. I don’t need light to feel.” Gently he rubbed her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. “Your mouth is the crushed red of the satiny petals in the rose gardens of Qasr Al-Ward.” His fingers explored her cheeks. “Your skin is softer than an almond blossom. Your cheekbones are carefully sculpted by a masterful hand to ensure that as you grow older you will only grow more beautiful.”

Tiffany felt herself color.

A beat of time elapsed. Tiffany tried to summon the anger that had scorched her only a moment before when she’d discovered he’d brought her to his suite, but it had vanished. His touch, the heat of his lean body, the force of his soft words had overwhelmed her. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She’d never met anyone remotely like him. He was way out her league.

Finally she gave up trying to understand the emotion that flooded her. Linking her fingers behind his neck, she pulled his mouth back to hers, his hair thick and silken under her fingers. His thigh moved against her hip, making her aware of the hard, muscled strength of him. When the kiss ended, Tiffany discovered that her heart was pounding.

Tilting her head back, she looked up into his face. His eyes glowed, he’d warmed, he was a long way from being the remote, distant stranger. A heady sense of being on a precipice of discovery overtook her.

Before she could speak, Rafiq grasped her hand. “Come.”

He led her through a pair of French doors into a darkened room. A flick of a switch and dim lighting washed the room, revealing a king-size bed in a sumptuously decorated room.

Tiffany hesitated for a microsecond as Rafiq shrugged off his shirt. Then he turned her in his arms and the moment of cool analysis was gone.

Her wide, elasticized belt gave…. She heard something fall, and dismissed it. The zip on the back of her borrowed dress rasped down. His hands closed over the shoulder straps and eased them down her arms along with the tiny, dainty bag looped around her wrist. She didn’t have any time to feel exposed … or naked. Only relief that the tight dress was gone. Rafiq drew her against his bare torso, his skin smooth and warm against hers.

His fingers tangled in her hair, before moving in small circles down her back, setting flame to each inch of flesh he massaged.

Tiffany flung her head back. A moan escaped. Desire flared uncontrollably within her and her nipples peaked beneath the modest black bra she wore. She didn’t even feel Rafiq loosen the back before the plain bra gave and he removed it, tossing it over the bed end. Then he was on his knees in front of her, easing her heels off, sliding the cotton briefs down her legs, his touch trailing fire down the insides of her thighs.

She started to shake.

The explosive hunger that consumed her was unfamiliar. Powerful. Incredible. A new experience. He buried his face in her belly. Goose bumps broke out over her skin as sensation shook her to her soul. Her hands clutched at his hair, the texture rough as she closed her fingers over the short strands.

“I’m going to pleasure you—but we’re not going to make love,” he murmured.

Relief, instantly followed by a crazy kind of disappointment spread through her. “Why won’t we make love?”

Did he think he was too good for her?

“I’m not … equipped.”

“Equipped?” Then it struck her what he meant. “Oh.”

The next thought was that if he didn’t carry condoms around with him, then he didn’t do casual sex, either. It made her almost start to like the man who had her in such a sweat.

Perversely, it made her want him to make love to her.

Tiffany reached for the puddle of her dress on the floor and found her bag. Opening it she extracted the condom that Renate had stuck in. “I only have one.”

“Better than nothing,” he growled.

Then he had her on the bed and everything started to move very fast. She closed her eyes as his mouth teased her nipple, arousing sensations she’d never experienced. A wild, keening sound broke from her throat as his teeth teased her burgeoning flesh. His hands were everywhere…. He knew exactly what to do to reduce her to a state of quivering arousal. Her body turned fluid. It seemed to know exactly what he wanted … how to respond to his every move.

When he finally moved over her, her legs parted. Opening her eyes, she glimpsed the tense line of his jaw, the fullness of a bottom lip softened by passion. He shifted into the space between her legs, his body so male, so unfamiliar against her own. He moved his hips, and Tiffany tensed, fighting the instinct to resist.

The pressure. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. He wasn’t going to fit. Staring at the mouth that had wreaked so much pleasure, she waited uncertainly. Suddenly her body gave, and the pressure eased. The shudders subsided. Her heart expanded as he sank forward. A glow of warmth swept her. Her hands fluttered along the indent of his spine as a powerful, primal emotion swept her.

Tiffany thought she was going to cry with joy, at the beauty of it all.

The warmth spiraled into a fierce, desperate heat as he moved within her. As the friction built, she could feel herself straining to reach a place she’d never been. Her body tightened, no longer hers, taken over by the passion that ripped through her.

“Relax,” he whispered in her ear. “Let it happen.”

She didn’t know what he was talking about. Yet the warmth of his breath against her ear caused a fresh wave of shivers to race up and down her spine, spreading out along every inch of her skin.

This time she didn’t fight the sensation. She allowed it to sweep her away. Pleasure soared.

He grew still. Then he moved, his body driving in quick thrusts into hers, his breath fast.

A cry of shock caught in her throat as her body convulsed. Waves of heat broke, rippling through her, a tide of inexorable sensation that left her limp.

Tiffany opened her eyes and blinked against bright sunlight.

Disorientation was quickly followed by a suffocating sense of dread. What had she done? Slowly, she turned her head against the plump oversized pillow.

The space beside her in the giant king-size bed was empty. Rafiq was already awake … and out of the bed. With any luck he’d stay closeted in the bathroom until she could escape. Except she could hear no sound. Perhaps he’d gone to have breakfast … a swim … to work out. Anything.

Tiffany didn’t care so long as she didn’t have to confront him.

A movement drew her gaze to the floor-to-ceiling windows where the drapes had already been thrown back. Squinting against the gauze-filtered sunlight, Tiffany made out the dark shadow of a backlit figure.

Rafiq.