The Sheikh's Bartered Bride. Lucy Monroe

with a man who could have any woman he wanted and that scared her. Refusing to admit it did not change it and there was a certain amount of relief in letting the truth out.

      His hands caressed her back and she shivered with another convulsion. If it had been an earthquake, she would have called it an aftershock. It had been close enough.

      He picked her up, carrying her as if she weighed no more than one of the throw pillows off the sofa. When they came into her bedroom, he flipped on the small light by her bed, casting a warm glow in the room.

      Stopping beside the bed, he bent to lay her down, but she clung to his neck. “Please, don’t leave.”

      She couldn’t bear being alone after that.

      He tensed.

      “Please,” she begged again.

      “Do not plead. If you want me to stay, I will stay.”

      She let go of his neck and let him lay her down on the bed. He straightened to stand beside her. “Prepare yourself for bed and I will return to hold you.”

      “Aren’t we going to make love?” she asked, not at all sure she could stand another dose of pleasure like what she had just gone through, but willing to try.

      “Not until we are married.”

      She still didn’t believe for a minute they were actually going to end up married. “But…” She could see the hard ridge still pressing against his slacks.

      He shook his head decisively. “We will wait.”

      She couldn’t expect him to hold her all night in that condition.

      “I could…” She blushed without completing the offer, knowing he was a smart enough guy to figure it out.

      “I’ll take a shower.”

      “You’re going to take a cold shower?” The thought of a sexy man like Hakim having to take a cold shower over her was somehow very appealing.

      He smiled as if he could read her thoughts. “As you say. Prepare yourself for bed. I will return in but a moment.”

      She nodded and silently watched him walk into the en suite. It was only when she looked down that she realized her chest was still exposed. Her nipples were still hard and wet from his mouth. Oh my. The sight paralyzed her for a full minute before she was able to get up and find a nightgown to wear to bed.

      Hakim stood under the warm jets of water, his body buffeted by the pain of unrequited passion, his mind filled with pleasure at how successfully his campaign had gone.

      Catherine had agreed to be his wife.

      His uncle would be pleased. Her father would be pleased. Hakim was pleased.

      Marriage to Catherine would be no hardship.

      Under the shy exterior, she was so passionate, so beautifully sensual. It had been harder than he ever would have thought possible to pull back from making love to her completely.

      She’d liked that. His sweet little wallflower had liked thinking he was in here taking a cold shower because of his desire for her. The shower wasn’t cold, but only because he’d never found that an effective deterrent to desire. He had found that warm water could sometimes soothe the physical ache of wanting what he could not yet have.

      It wasn’t working right now though. His sex was so hard, he was in pain.

      He could not banish the image from his head of how she had looked with her dress pulled down, her breasts swollen and quivering with her desire. And the way she had exploded…her entire body bowing with such strong contractions, he had found it most difficult to keep his jewel on the couch. He groaned as his male member throbbed at the memories.

      Maybe a cold shower would help.

      Turning the knob all the way to the right, he was soon blasted with an icy spray. He gritted his teeth, practicing a self-discipline technique he had learned while training with elite guard in his uncle’s palace.

      Catherine would have to marry him very soon.

      She would not demur at a simple civil ceremony, he was certain. She was too happy to be marrying him.

      She loved him.

      Though it was not necessary, it pleased him, it pleased his pride that his future wife loved him.

      Her shock at his proposal underscored the reality that she had reached the age of twenty-four without once having had a serious relationship, or even a steady date. Or so her father had asserted and Hakim had no reason to disbelieve him.

      Her virginity had been an important issue to Hakim’s uncle. According to the old man, no royal prince of Jawhar could marry a woman of uncertain morals. Hakim felt a certain primitive satisfaction in Catherine’s untouched state, but he hardly placed the importance on it that his uncle did.

      After all, he’d been prepared to marry once before and the woman had not been a virgin. Undoubtedly his uncle would not have approved.

      And right now, when he wanted very much to bury himself in the silken wetness of Catherine’s body, her innocence was more barrier to pleasure than benefit.

      Reentering the bedroom, he found Catherine sitting up in the bed wearing a virginal, almost Victorian gown in white and her dark honey hair hanging over one shoulder in a thick braid. He smiled at her innocence.

      As he got closer to the bed however, his smile slipped. He doubted very much that she realized it, but the gown was borderline sheer and the dark aureoles of her nipples were visible as well as the outline of her gorgeous breasts. He wished he’d left his slacks on as the benefits of the cold shower disappeared and the silk of his boxers shifted with his growing erection.

      Catherine didn’t seem to notice. Her blue eyes were unfocused as she stared at something beyond his right shoulder. Her lips were slightly parted and he could see the sweet, pink, enticing interior of her mouth.

      As he climbed into the bed beside her, she jumped as if startled.

      “Hakim!”

      “You were not expecting me?”

      Soft color flooded her cheeks and she scooted down into the bed so that the quilted spread covered her to her neck. “I was thinking about something.”

      “And was I this something?”

      Expecting a shy affirmative, he was surprised and chagrined to see her shake her head in a jerky motion.

      “What were you thinking of?”

      She started. “Just, just a story that’s all.”

      “A story?”

      “Sometimes I like to tell stories in my head.”

      “Our lovemaking was not enough to keep your mind occupied?” The fact his innocent fiancée had been able to dismiss their lovemaking from her thoughts when he had not, irritated him.

      “I didn’t want to think about it.”

      Offended, he demanded, “Why not?”

      And only realized as she pulled back that he was leaning over her in a most intimidating fashion. He did not move back however. He wanted an explanation.

      “You said we couldn’t make love until we’re married.”

      “Yes. This is true.”

      “Well, then what would be the point of letting myself get all worked up if you aren’t going to let anything happen?”

      It was a good question. One he wished he could answer, but he had not been so successful in tamping down his own desires. He was rock hard and the only thing saving his pride were the blankets covering them both. Even so, had he not had his body tilted toward her, his erection would have tented the covers and given him away.

      It shamed and frustrated him that