Page 20 of Sheikh's Secret Love-Child

And he interpreted that as an invitation. One he was more than happy to accept.

Malak smiled, then leaned close. He pushed the bit of lace she wore to the side and then he licked his way into the melting sweetness between her legs.

At last.

And he didn’t know which one of them exploded. Or if it was both of them, in a rolling, endless burst of fire that threatened to consume them both.

He welcomed it.

He exulted in it.

And he wanted more.

Malak held her still, even as she bucked against him. He licked and he sucked. He used a hint of his teeth. And still, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Her taste. That sweet, molten heat of hers that made him ache. Everywhere.

And the next time she called out his name, it sounded like a prayer. He felt her stiffen, then shatter into a hundred glorious pieces right there against his mouth.

But it still wasn’t enough.

He shifted, sucking the center of her need into his mouth as he used one finger, then another, to test her wet, clinging heat.

Her hips rocked against him. The noises she made were delicious. Sweet and broken, as he took her from one shattering straight back into that fire.

And then he made her burn.

Again and again, until she was limp and sobbing.

Only then did he stop. Only then did he pull back, and smooth her lace panties back into place, and somehow keep himself from assuaging his own powerful need right then and there.

Because it was possible he was better at restraint than he imagined.

Malak stood, keeping his hand hooked around her arm so she wouldn’t simply collapse over the side of the balcony. He felt more than a little deep, male satisfaction at how boneless she looked. How thrown. He handed her back her discarded trousers, and continued to prop her up as she blinked, looking delightfully dazed before she pulled them back on.

It took her a moment, because it was as if her limbs had ceased operating at her command.

“You can stand as long as you like,” he told her, his voice as dark as all the wild and desperate greedy things that fought for supremacy inside him. But she had already taught him about patience. And need. Control. And the chase.

Now it was time to practice a different kind of restraint. Vinegar didn’t work on Shona. She was too tough, deep into her bones, in ways Malak didn’t particularly want to recognize. Too determined to meet anything that came at her with strength and defiance.

She was much too sure of herself in ways he should have found appalling in a woman, especially one who would become his queen, but instead found he reluctantly admired in this one.

But it looked like honey was something she couldn’t resist.

“Stand?” she asked, her voice thick. As shaky as the rest of her.

Malak didn’t work too hard to hide his smile. “You can stand at every meal we have together until the end of time, if you so desire.” He waited until her dark eyes, still a bit glassy and more than a little dazed, met his. “I will assume it is an invitation to partake of my favorite dessert. Do you understand?”

She looked mutinous. Or perhaps just a shadow of mutiny, lost there behind need and longing and the melting he could see written all over her.

And she was still breathing too hard when she answered him. “I don’t like dessert.”

Malak laughed, despite the heaviness in that part of him that urged him to simply lift her against him, carry her to his bed and be done with these games.

But he didn’t, because he thought he understood this woman now. Or this game, anyway. And the fact that the only thing she was likely to understand was the way he could turn her own body against her. Because any direct approach would result in her direct resistance. But a kiss? That made her melt.

“No?” he asked mildly. “The way you came all over my face, calling my name, would suggest otherwise. But who am I to take away your illusions? Stand all you like, Shona. I not only welcome it. I have to say, I prefer it. I prefer this.”

And he let go of her. Then left her there, shaking on his balcony, while he handled his own body in his shower.

Again.