The Sheikh Who Claimed Her. Barbara McMahon

her melted.

      ‘You can always go back to the yacht and sleep safely in a bunk,’ Saif murmured.

      ‘Why would I do that?’

      ‘I’ve no idea.’

      And then he strode across the beach, holding her in his arms as if she weighed nothing, while she linked her hands behind his neck and snuggled her face against his chest. It was the easiest thing in the world to believe they belonged together, and that this was their island with no outside world to complicate things or muddy the water. There was no tomorrow here, no yesterday, there was only now, with the ocean lapping rhythmically on a sugar-sand shore, with a sickle moon and diamond stars to light their way. There was just one man, one woman.

       There was only this …

      ‘Still feeling safe?’ he said.

      She drew a fast breath as he ran the fingertips of one hand very lightly down her arm. This was madness, she registered as her heart beat wildly. She didn’t even know Saif. She might have fantasised about such things happening, but had never imagined they would.

      Saif continued to tease her with the lightest touch. It was a touch that carried the promise of so much more, and that was all it took to convince her that she was free to do as she liked here.

       Free to enjoy sex with a complete stranger?

      Why not? Antonia argued stubbornly with her inner voice. ‘Do you believe in fate, Saif?’

      ‘Maybe.’

      ‘You do. I know you do,’ she insisted. ‘Just think about it—why am I here? Why did I swim to this particular island where you were moored up? We were meant to meet,’ she said with certainty, holding Saif’s brooding gaze.

      ‘It was the closest port in a storm for both of us,’ he said, injecting some realism into her thinking.

      But she did feel the pull of kismet, and was sure Saif must feel it too. ‘I’m not frightened of you,’ she said. ‘In fact …’

      Saif shushed her, and as he looped his arms around her waist her body responded with indecent urgency. This wasn’t some soft, office-bound male. Saif was a barbarian, raw and sexual, and there was steel behind that brooding stare.

      He would be tuned to every desire she had ever dreamed of. He was the mate nature had chosen for her, she decided, choosing to ignore the voice in her head that said he was ruthless, and that Saif lived his life by very different rules. This would be a night to remember for the rest of her life. Saif wanted sex, and she did too. What was wrong with that? Now his lips were soft and persuasive on her mouth and on her neck.

       While his stubble was sharp like a warning.

      She was moist and hot. She was ready for him.

       But was she ready for sex with a man as experienced and as exciting as Saif? Could she trust him? Could she trust him enough?

      She was more frightened of her own inexperience than she was of Saif, Antonia realised; she was frightened she might disappoint him.

      The silence deepened as he stared at her. They were both fiercely aroused, and he took pleasure in keeping her waiting. Meanwhile, his strength and heat were washing over her, and his expression said he would exceed every dream she’d ever had.

      She softened against him, arching her back to encourage his hands to move lower, and she groaned with satisfaction when he cupped her buttocks. It only took the smallest adjustment to angle herself so she could feel the steel of his erection, to which he responded by pressing and releasing her against him, allowing her a hint of the pleasure to come.

      But she wanted more than this. All thoughts of standing hesitantly on the brink, and of decisions yet to be made, had vanished. Her world comprised the throbbing hunger between her legs. There was nothing more. One night, she argued with her inner voice. She had to. She had never known such a primal instinct to mate with one man, or even known that she possessed such hunger. It was as if Saif had made her supremely conscious of her feminine power.

      As if he sensed this confidence in her, he swung her into his arms again and carried her on board the yacht. When he laid her on the cushions beneath the stars, she felt one moment of anxiety, because now it seemed Saif was hesitating. ‘Don’t you want me?’

      ‘I want you.’

      His eyes were flecked with gold and amber, and as he stretched out at her side his mouth curved in a lazy smile. ‘Do you know what happens when you play with fire?’ he murmured, toying with a strand of her hair.

      ‘I get burned?’ she said hopefully.

      He laughed, and then dragged her close to whisper all sorts of outrageous suggestions in her ear—words that carried such an erotic charge she would reach a conclusion without him if he didn’t hurry to put his promises into practice.

      Saif wielded an unusual power over her, Antonia realised as his hands warmed and controlled her. She should be aware of that—and be cautious. She didn’t know him or what he was capable of, but then she hardly knew herself in this new guise of reckless heat. ‘I want you,’ she murmured, quickly forgetting her reservations when Saif moved over her.

      ‘You’ve got me.’ Impossibly attractive and indescribably intimidating, he was experienced and she was not, and she was only now realising he had prepared her to the point where there could be no turning back. To the point where she felt a frantic need to welcome him inside her as nature, and Saif, intended.

      ‘Patience,’ he whispered when she moved urgently against him.

      Her obedience was partially rewarded when he feathered kisses down her neck, while his hands worked more productively on even more sensitive areas. ‘Calm,’ he commanded as she fought for breath.

      ‘How …?’ She couldn’t even speak.

      ‘Easy for me.’ His lips curved with amusement.

      ‘That’s so unfair,’ she complained in a gasp.

      ‘No doubt,’ he agreed evenly. ‘But everything I do is for your own good.’

      She knew what was for her own good—and it wasn’t patience!

      Saif allowed her no respite from his teasing kisses on her breastbone, the swell of her breasts and on her belly, where her wet top was pushed back. But did he feel anything? Antonia wondered. How could anyone be so controlled, when she was composed entirely of sensation?

      She strained towards him, wanting him to acknowledge her arousal, and gasped with relief when he made the lightest pass of his thumb against the swollen tip of her nipple before chafing each in turn with the utmost delicacy. ‘You’re teasing me,’ she complained on another shuddering sigh.

      ‘Am I?’ he murmured.

      ‘You know you are,’ she accused him, feeling more excited than ever at the thought of what else Saif had in store for her. But still he was distanced and unmoved. ‘Don’t you feel anything?’ she demanded, close to breaking point.

      ‘Plenty. Believe me, I feel plenty.’

      Then why wouldn’t he rush things along?

      ‘I know exactly what you want,’ he said. A faint smile curved his mouth. ‘Soon,’ he murmured, kissing her brow chastely, as if he knew every wicked thought in her head.

      ‘No,’ she burst out. ‘Now!’

      Saif laughed as he brought her into firm contact with the thrust of his erection. ‘Is that what you want?’

      ‘You know it is.’

      She was lost in an erotic haze, desperately seeking more contact, and hardly aware that Saif was lifting her top over her head. Her bra followed and was tossed aside, and now her breasts gleamed pale in the moonlight, while her nipples were dark, thrusting peaks that called for his attention. ‘Take