Carrying the Sheikh's Baby Read online

  The girl reached to undo the buttons on the front of Cat’s robe.

  ‘Stop it. Kasia! Are you mad?’ Cat whispered furiously, finally managing to bat the girl’s fingers away, but not before she’d undone enough buttons to have Cat’s robe hanging open. ‘I’m not putting it on. That would be totally wrong.’

  ‘I know. I was only joking.’ The girl pressed a hand to her lips to contain her laughter. ‘But you looked so shocked. I could not help teasing you.’

  And then the strangest thing happened: Cat’s huff of outrage broke out of her mouth in a giggle.

  She shouldn’t find this funny, because it absolutely wasn’t funny. At all. But as Kasia’s laughter joined hers—echoing off the chamber’s lush furnishings—Cat felt something let go inside her. Like a lock clicking open, releasing all the tension and turmoil that had been tormenting her for days. Until all that was left was the absurdity of the whole situation.

  More chuckles popped out—until she and Kasia were bent over, tears of laughter streaming down their faces.

  Cat gasped for breath and felt the warm glow of kinship. A kinship she’d never had before.

  As a schoolgirl, and later in college, she’d always been so serious, so sensible, concentrating on her work, and making a point of not associating with the frivolous, fun girls, girls like Kasia—full of life and mischief and spontaneity—because she’d been fearful of having too much fun, and being distracted from her studies. But as she and Kasia laughed together the thought of being lost in the Sheikh’s palace and discovering this treasure trove of impossibly erotic outfits became more ridiculous and riotously funny by the second—and it occurred to her how much she’d missed out on. Because somehow or other, she’d found such a friend in Kasia.

  ‘What’s going on in here?’ a deep voice demanded.

  Cat spun round so fast she almost fell over. The last of her laughter got trapped in her lungs, swallowed by shock.

  Kasia went deathly quiet beside her, then dropped to her knees.

  ‘Your Divine Majesty, please forgive us,’ her friend murmured, her forehead touching the floor in supplication. She sounded terrified.

  Zane Khan stood on the balcony, his arms folded over his chest, his big frame leaning negligently against the carved wooden rail, watching them.

  Mortification flushed through Cat’s system.

  Oh, good grief, how much had he seen...? And heard? Exactly how long had he been standing there?

  ‘Please accept our deepest apologies, Your Excellency,’ Kasia mumbled, her voice trembling now like the rest of her. ‘I will accept any punishment you deem fit.’

  ‘It’s not Kasia’s fault.’ Cat finally found her voice, concerned herself now. He hadn’t moved, and it was impossible to read his expression. Was that amusement she could see or annoyance? ‘It’s totally my fault. I take full responsibility.’

  They’d trespassed in his dead mother’s salon. Touched her clothing.

  Horrified at the sudden realisation she was still clutching the sensual silk to her breast, she jerked both hands behind her back.

  ‘I see,’ he said as he pushed off against the rail and strolled into the room. His gaze remained fixed on her face—which felt as if it had heated to about a thousand degrees. ‘Then I’m afraid one of you will definitely have to be punished.’

  Could she hear the hint of humour? Or was she imagining it?

  ‘Then punish me,’ she said, knowing she couldn’t take the chance he wasn’t joking. ‘Not Kasia.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, and she saw it then, the glint of humour.

  She should have been relieved. He wasn’t mad, he appeared to be amused. But as he continued to walk towards her, his presence sucked all the oxygen out of her lungs, and all the tension that had been tormenting her for days screamed back across her shoulder blades.

  She was trapped by her own acute awareness of him, her whole body responding in ways she knew it shouldn’t to his nearness. His enticing scent intoxicated her as he stopped in front of her, and touched her flaming cheek with the side of his thumb.

  ‘Kasia, you may return to the women’s quarters,’ he said without looking at the girl as he dismissed her. ‘And mention this to no one.’

  ‘Yes, Your Divine Majesty.’

  Trapped in Zane’s gaze, Cat heard the relief in the girl’s voice—and the hint of humour—before her footsteps disappeared and the door slammed behind her.

  Cat’s blush hit critical mass. Was it obvious? Even to Kasia? Her reaction to Zane?

  ‘I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have come in here, I...’

  He touched a finger to her lips, silencing the rambling apology. ‘Don’t...’ he said, the husky smile in his voice weakening her knees. ‘It was good to hear laughter in this room for once.’

  She wondered what he meant, but her curiosity died, washed away on a wave of longing when he ran his thumb down her neck, and brushed the pulse point hammering against her throat. Flattening his other hand against her body, he ran it down her side and curled his fingers into the material at her waist, tugging her towards him.

  ‘Breathe, Catherine,’ he said. And the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding gushed out. ‘So would you?’ he asked.

  ‘Would I what?’ she repeated dully.

  ‘Would you turn the Sheikh away? If he wanted only you?’

  His deep voice, raw with need, made Kasia’s teasing words sound provocative, potent, thick with desire—and nothing like a joke.

  Her answer got trapped in her throat. Something hard brushed against her hip. Entirely of its own accord, her gaze drifted down.

  The loose tunic and pants should have hidden a lot, but they couldn’t hide that. She stared at the prominent outline of his erection. His knuckle touched her chin, lifting her traitorous gaze back to his face.

  ‘Do you like what you see, Catherine?’ he asked.

  She nodded, slowly, the raw need in his voice mesmerising her and making the melting sensation in her panties all the more intense. She should stop this, leave now, before they did something they would both regret. But she was trapped by the need too, to feel his sensual lips on hers again. And everywhere else her body burned for his touch.

  His fingers flexed and he yanked her closer still. Until she could feel his penis trapped against her belly.

  Her breasts swelled against her bra as his gaze slid over the sensitised skin of her cleavage, exposed by the buttons Kasia had undone.

  Arousal flared in the depths of his irises and coloured his skin.

  ‘Please...’ The raw need in her tone echoed around the room.

  Bending his head, he planted his lips on the pounding pulse in her neck—and sucked.

  Hunger powered through her, and her head dropped back, giving him better access, her pulse roaring where his lips feasted.

  ‘Zane...’ she cried, the sob of need becoming a plea.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ he muttered, his voice a broken whisper.

  And just like that, the dam of longing she’d been keeping so carefully leashed for the past week broke and the devastating tide of yearning rolled through her like a tsunami. She lifted shaking fingers and plunged them into his short hair as she dragged his head up.

  She wanted his lips on hers again. Wanted to feel that exhilarating jolt of passion, of freedom.

  As if he had heard her secret desire, he slanted his mouth across hers. He feasted on her mouth, exploring the recesses, tempting and torturing her, swallowing her sobs. Her fingers massaged his scalp, running over the bones of his skull, rejoicing in the coarse silk of his hair.

  He lifted his head, those intense blue eyes boring into hers in the shadowy light. ‘I want you so damn much. Tell me you want this, too?’

  That he would ask, with such desperation in his voice, spoke to something inside her, tapping a spring she hadn’t e
ven known existed. It geysered up and burst out of her mouth.

  ‘Yes... Yes, I do.’

  He scooped her into his arms and carried her out onto the balcony.

  ‘Where...? Where are you taking me?’ she said, the nerves twisting to life in her stomach.

  They shouldn’t be doing this.

  ‘To my chambers,’ he said as he marched along the balcony and entered another suite of rooms. ‘As good as it was to hear laughter in my mother’s salon,’ he said, carrying her through an outer chamber into a lavish bedroom suite, ‘I’m not about to make love to you in her bed.’

  Make love to you.

  The words seemed to echo in Cat’s soul. Romantic. Forceful. Her foolish heart sped up into overdrive.

  That’s not what he means.

  They didn’t love each other. They hardly knew each other. This was about sex. About basic elemental attraction, but still her galloping heart slowed, and her limbs softened.

  An imposing four-poster bed stood on a raised podium; golden drapes hung from the frame. Arched windows looked down into the private garden, the perfume of exotic blooms and the sweet spice of lemons drifting in on a midnight breeze.

  But Cat could barely register any of it, her system already overloaded with sensations. The bulge of muscle and sinew beneath her bottom, the scent of his skin, salt and cedarwood, the ragged tenor of his breathing. Placing her on her feet, he dealt with the rest of the buttons on her robe in seconds and shoved the garment off her shoulders. The silk pooled at her feet.

  She stood shivering in the fragrant night air, aware of the confining lingerie as his gaze devoured every inch of her flesh. She crossed her arms over her chest.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said, the tortured rasp torn from his throat. His gaze met hers, dark with lust. ‘Don’t cover yourself,’ he demanded. ‘You’re exquisite.’

  She forced herself to release her hold on her shoulders, to bring her arms to her sides, to let him look his fill—even though it terrified her. No man had ever seen her with so few clothes on before.

  But no man had ever called her exquisite before either.

  She jolted, shocked by his touch as his palm covered one of her breasts, and he drew his thumb across the straining nipple. The subtle caress sent fire shooting down to her core. With a deft flick of his wrist, the front hook of her bra released with a sharp snap.

  She shuddered as he peeled the lace back. He held her naked breasts in his palms, let the calloused skin cup the underside, as if testing the weight, then circled the aching tips with his thumbs.

  A deep moan burst from her throat as he plucked and tugged, playing with the nipples, making the ache in her sex sharpen and spread.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he said. Then he bent to capture one swollen nipple between his teeth.

  The maelstrom of need fired through her as his hot, avid mouth closed over the peak and suckled hard. She gripped his head, the drawing sensation too much and yet not enough, as liquid need welled at her core.

  Her knees shook, her thighs became liquid. He stopped, then lifted her in his strong arms again and laid her on the bed.

  He kicked off his boots. The dull thud as they hit the floor, first one, then the other, echoed in her head. She watched, transfixed as he untied the band on his tunic, let the loose pants fall over long, lean legs. The muscles in his thighs bunched, and she noticed the thick bulge beneath the cotton. Lifting up on her knees, she gathered the hem and lifted the tunic to reveal the strident erection.

  He was large, and long, much larger than she had expected, even after feeling that thick ridge against her belly.

  ‘Can I...?’ She glanced up. ‘Can I touch it?’ she asked, hopelessly unsure.

  His teeth flashed white in his face.

  ‘Sure,’ he said.

  She trailed her finger up the swollen length, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Her thumb glided across the top, spreading the bead of moisture over the broad purple head.

  ‘Stop.’ He snagged her wrist and dragged her hand away.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

  He kissed the tips of her fingers. ‘The only thing you keep doing wrong is apologising for nothing.’

  He climbed on the bed, supporting her as she lay down. His lips found her pebbled nipples—and her mortification dissolved on a wave of desire.

  She bucked off the bed as he licked across her ribs, circled her belly button, then pressed his face into the lace covering her sex.

  She wanted him to take off the tunic, she wanted to see all of him, but her voice was locked somewhere in her chest, too scared to demand anything in case she broke the spell. The clamour of need rushed through her limbs, and melted her core as he sank his teeth into the delicate lace of her panties.

  The sound of rending fabric filled the room as he ripped the fabric away.

  She fisted her fingers in the sheets, trying to cling to her sanity, as he cupped her buttocks in firm hands and held her open for his mouth.

  ‘You smell incredible,’ he said. ‘I want to taste you.’

  It sounded more like a demand than a request, but still she nodded.

  The blush suffused her whole body, when his deep chuckle reverberated up from her core.

  And then she launched off the bed, her hips nearly bucking him off as his rough tongue swiped through the slick folds.

  He held her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh to hold her steady for the delicious torture. She panted and sobbed as he swirled his tongue everywhere but where she needed it the most.

  She writhed, tortured by the devious darts and licks. The coil of sensation twisted tighter and tighter, until she was moaning, begging, sobbing.

  ‘Easy, Catherine,’ he murmured and she was reminded of the way he had handled his horse.

  Animal instincts drove her—she needed that thick length inside her. She felt so empty, her sex clenching in a desperate desire to be filled.

  He eased one thick finger into her sex, then two, stretching the tight flesh, and finally fastened his lips on the very heart of her, flicking his tongue in a driving, relentless rhythm.

  She screamed, her voice so hoarse she didn’t even recognise it. Her back bowed, her body thrusting into his mouth, her fingers fisting as the ruthless orgasm fired from her core and burned through her body in one mind-blowing wave of pure unadulterated pleasure.

  He licked her through it, drawing out every last drop of sensation.

  She sank back onto the bed, exhausted, limp and uncoordinated.

  Rearing over her, he tugged off the tunic and flung it away. Her vision filled with the magnificent sight of bronzed muscle, and the happy trail of hair bisecting his six-pack.

  Grasping her legs in unsteady hands, he looked savage, feral as he angled her hips and notched the head of his erection at her core.

  He pressed in, slowly at first, but, even with the slickness of her orgasm easing the way, the stretched feeling inched towards pain.

  She clutched his shoulders, determined to bear it, wanting more. Wanting all of him. But her fingertips slipped on the slick skin and she felt a series of ridges as her fingers glided over his back.

  He was punished harshly for his disobedience.

  Compassion assailed her as Nazarin’s words drifted through her mind but then he thrust hard, lodging the thick length deep inside her.

  She cried out in pain, and his head reared up.

  ‘Catherine?’ He stilled, his expression tormented. ‘Are you a virgin?’

  ‘No,’ she said. She hadn’t meant to lie, but she didn’t want him to stop, scared she would never again feel the dizzying pleasure that lurked so close.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said.

  He eased out, then rocked back to the hilt. The brutally stretched feeling began to ease, the ripples of pleasure rising fr
om her core, then getting stronger, more relentless as he established a devastating rhythm.

  The orgasm built again, slowly, surely, robbing her of breath. She sobbed, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his movements became wild and uncontrolled.

  He swelled inside her, and her muscles contracted, sending her over the edge. Pleasure pulsated through her body, her wild cries matched by his harsh shouts as he wrenched out of her and hot seed splashed onto her belly.

  It took her a while to come back to her senses, her whole body shuddering with the force of her climax, and his.

  So that’s what all the fuss is about?

  The inane thought spun through her head as he rolled onto his back and drew her with him.

  She lay sprawled over his body, her soft curves flattened over hard contours. Her legs tangled with his, her cheek resting on his shoulder, while his thumb drew lazy circles on her back.

  She rose up on one elbow to look into his face—usually so harsh, for once his expression looked relaxed, long dark eyelashes resting on his cheeks. He opened one eye and the sensual line of his lips tipped up in a disarming smile.

  Her ribs tightened, her heart thundering in her chest. She was glad she’d made him smile; he really didn’t smile nearly often enough.

  The magnitude of what they’d done seemed worth it for that smile.

  ‘I hope you feel suitably punished,’ he murmured, and she felt her own lips quirk—even though her chest felt unbearably tight.

  His hand cupped her cheek, and he swept her hair behind one ear. ‘What is it?’ he said, concern shadowing his eyes. ‘You look worried.’

  How did he read her so easily? When she found it next to impossible to read him?

  ‘What did you mean, when you said it was good to hear laughter in that room?’ she asked.

  His fingers stilled in her hair, and she wished she could take the impulsive question back.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that, it’s not relevant to the—’