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The Sheikh’s Christmas Proposal

Written by Abby Green

Chapter Six

I don’t feel like making love. Every cell in Riad’s body rejected Cassidy’s words. He knew she hungered for him the same way he hungered for her, it throbbed between them like a constant flow of electricty. But he went still, searching her face. This was new territory and it wasn’t comfortable. He wanted to wipe out that expression of hurt he’d seen in her eyes in the ballroom, pretend he’d never seen it. He wanted to wipe out the fact that this convenient affair was proving to be far more tangled than he’d ever anticipated.

He put his hands on the wall behind her, pressing even closer. He bent his head and inhaled her unique scent—musk and wild roses—and his heart started to thunder. She wasn’t moving, but she wasn’t pushing him away either. He pressed his mouth to her neck, his lips finding her pulse point and his blood leaping when he registered how fast it was…

‘Riad…’ she said weakly.

His response to that was to nip at her skin gently, before soothing it with his tongue. She shuddered against him. He felt ruthless… It was one of her weak spots. Her breasts were pressed against him and all evening he’d had to battle to control himself. Not to give in to the urge to lead her into some secluded corner and ravish her.

He straightened and looked down. Cassidy’s eyes were glittering, her cheeks flushed. A sense of desperation gripped him—shouldn’t his desire have waned by now? But it hadn’t. It was stronger than ever. What was it about this woman?

Feeling dangerously unmoored, as if he was slipping and sliding down a steep hill with nothing to cling to, Riad found the top of the zip at the back of the dress and he pulled it down so that the material loosened and exposed her bare breasts.

Cassidy gasped but Riad had pulled down the top of the dress and was cupping her pale breasts in his hands. Knowing that she wasn’t wearing a bra had been a further provocation all evening.

He rubbed his thumbs across the rosy peaks, watching as they stiffened into hard buds, the aureole peaking around them. Before she could say anything he dropped his head and sucked first one peak into his hungry mouth and then the other, his mind clouding with lust.

Cassidy’s hands were in his hair, fingers like claws. She’d sagged against the wall now and her breathing was laboured but he could hardly hear anything in the rush of blood to his head. But then he heard her voice. ‘Please…Riad…I can’t… Don’t make me—’

He reared up at that, feeling fierce. His voice was rough. ‘Don’t make you what? Admit that you want me? Can you honestly tell me you don’t want this?’

He saw the battle in her blue eyes and he didn’t like it. He clamped his hands onto her hips and pulled her into him, where she could feel the power of his arousal. He was so hard it hurt. Her eyes widened and darkened. She was his—how could she deny it? And yet he could see her withdrawing right in front of him.

Before he could stop himself, he was saying in a hoarse voice, ‘Please, Cassidy. I need this… I need you.’

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About the author

I spent my teens reading (devouring) Mills & Boon romances. After ...

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Abby Green

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