Page 49 of Bred By the Sheikh

“Please do.”

Tariq stripped off the shirt.

I forgot to breathe for a second.

He was broad and hard through the chest and stomach, warm olive-brown skin stretched over muscle that looked functional rather than sculpted for display.

I ran my palms over him before I could become self-conscious.

“You wanted to touch me.”

“Yes, I did.”

“How long have you wanted that?”

“Since the meeting.”

He smiled.

“You’ve wanted to touch me that long?”

“Don’t look pleased with yourself.”

“I’m very pleased with myself.”

I laughed.

He kissed me again.

Then his fingers slid beneath the waistband of my panties.

I stopped laughing.

“You’re wet.”

A flush climbed my neck.

“That seems like information you already knew.”

“I wanted to feel it.”

His fingers moved between my folds.

My knees nearly gave.

He stroked over my clit once.

I braced a hand against his chest.

“Do that again.”

He did, slow and firm.

My head fell back.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes, that’s it.”