With deliberate slowness Wasim came toward her and stopped inches away. The earthy fragrance of his cologne and the underlying scent of oud drifted into her nostrils.
As he dipped his head, his lips grazed her hair and his breath brushed her earlobe. “Do you remember that night in Estoria? You have no idea how difficult it was to stop kissing you. I have craved you for so long, and tonight I won’t stop. Tonight…” He kissed behind her ear and the textured softness of his beard added another dimension of sensation. “Tonight I will know every inch of you.”
She turned away and tried to fight her response to his closeness, his scent, his virility as he towered over her. But Wasim placed a hand at the back of her neck and pulled her into a crushing kiss.
Her senses went into an uproar as threads of heat raced through her body. That night, that kiss, and all contact since then had placed a constant strain on her willpower. Now she was free to give in, and she needed more.
Imani wanted to press her aching nipples against his chest to ease the sexual irritation caused by his kisses, but Wasim refused. He held her at bay. In the midst of plundering her mouth, he somehow managed to maintain control while she was on the verge of performing a lewd grind against his hips.
When he tore his lips from hers, Imani gasped in frustration.
“Show me,” he rasped, taking one of her wrists and scouring the henna designs.
She knew immediately what he wanted to see.
“Here,” Imani said quietly, pointing to her inner forearm where his name was hidden in the pattern. “And here.” The other artist had hidden his name in the same spot on her left forearm.
He whispered something she didn’t understand and then kissed her again, hard and long. When he finally stopped, he stripped out of his clothes, and Imani’s mouth went dry.
For years she’d only had her imagination for an idea of what Wasim must look like underneath his clothes, but her mind had fallen far short of the reality. His classic male physique consisted of sculpted muscles that ran the length of his body from shoulders to calves. His athletic build made her want to reach out and stroke his firm chest, run her fingers down his flat belly, or squeeze the muscles that bulged from his thighs. Wisps of dark hair trailed from his chest to his pelvis and made a path down his legs.
He moved closer, oozing sexual energy and masculine grace. “Your turn.”
Within seconds he’d removed her clothes and was on top of her on the bed.
To think, she’d planned to lie there on the mattress as an unwilling participant, but that thought had been quickly dismissed the moment he kissed her. Hunger battered her loins and she kissed Wasim with all the pent-up desire that had banked over time.
When his fingers slipped between her lower lips, she twisted in shock.
“You’re already so wet. You burn for this as much as I do,” he groaned against her collarbone.
She succumbed to the battering ram of his seduction, gripping his powerful shoulders and twisting her head to claim his mouth. She sucked on his bottom lip and thrust her tongue between his lips.
He became almost brutal as he devoured her and matched her ardor. He stretched her hands above her head and clamped her wrists together with one hand. Then his tongue whisked over the tip of one breast while the other bore the brunt of his hand’s fondling. He squeezed and kneaded and dragged his thumb across the turgid nipple until she was arching her back and writhing in the sheets.
Wasim went lower, alternating between kisses and whispering erotic words against her skin. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed about this night? How many times I’ve imagined you naked?”
He slid his hands beneath her, and his fingers pressed into her bottom as he lifted her to his face. His mouth covered her wet, feminine flesh, and her head fell back. She grabbed the pillows as she lost her bearing, dizzy with pleasure as his lips and tongue devoured her with relish, like a man under the harsh lash of starvation.
With one heel propped against his shoulder and fingers gripping a handful of his hair, Imani gasped and whimpered, leaving her legs open so he could take what he wanted from between her quivering thighs.
She came only moments later and trembled through an earth-shattering orgasm. Wasim cradled her body in his arms and waited until her breathing was back to normal before he resumed his exploration.
He truly did learn every inch of her—back, front, thighs, arms, breasts. Not one square inch remained untouched as they made love. He sank his fingers into her hair and brushed his hands over her curves. Gathering her breasts in his hands and sucking her swollen nipples, he made her desire heat up once again to boiling.
She wanted him so badly the aching spot between her legs grew wetter every time his hair-roughened thigh brushed against her tender flesh. She bit her lips to resist the urge to beg but didn’t know how long that would last if he didn’t take her soon.
As if he heard her silent plea, Wasim shifted. Gripping his erection, he looked at her with darkened eyes, his face intent. He settled over her on one arm and brought the broad head of his erection to kiss the entrance of her body.
As he sank into her, she shifted her hips up and absorbed the slide of his hard length. She almost wept, shuttering her eyes as he took full possession of her body. Groaning, her mouth open, Imani shuddered.
“You’re so tight. So wet.” Wasim let out a helpless groan.
Then his hips were in motion—slowly at first as they got accustomed to each other, but then he increased his speed. The mattress groaned under the weight of his forceful thrusts, and her body arched higher. He whispered sensual words to her in Arabic, telling her how soft her skin was and how good it felt to be inside her.
“You’re mine now,” he whispered.
Her eyes flew open.
