Page 88 of The Billionaire's Timed Wife

There may be doubts about our union, but one thing is unquestionable: the overwhelming physical attraction that commands my body. No matter how hard my mind tries to believe this marriage shouldn’t involve deep emotion, every cell in me aches to belong to him.

I pick up the remote and press play.

He’s here; I heard the cars—his and the convoy of guards.

I take the last few steps toward the moment I’ll face my husband. My hands are sweaty.

When I hear him approaching, I call out, before even seeing him. “Sit down, my sheikh.”

One step at a time. My legs tremble with anxiety, but I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life.

And then, we’re face to face.

As I asked, he’s seated on the futon, reclining against a pile of colorful cushions.

The candlelight casts playful shadows across his face, and to an untrained eye, his posture might seem relaxed.

But I know better. His gaze as it roams over my body, from my feet to my face, is intense, dark, heavy with promises.

Without breaking eye contact, without a single word between us, I begin to move my hips. At first, uncertainly, letting my body sway to the rhythm of the music.

Then I realize that while he desires me, Kaled is also challenging me in silence, as if daring me to go further.

Heat rises through my skin, and I can tell he’s fighting to contain his reactions to me.

We’re both a little terrified of the force pulling us together.

But I’m not about to get lost alone in this tide of lust. I move closer. I forget the lessons the dancer taught me and let my desire choreograph the steps.

The first veil falls, and his eyes drop instantly to the part of my body now revealed.

A tingling rushes over my skin, the muscles between my thighs tightening almost painfully.

It feels like we’re sealed inside a world of our own. Minds in sync, bodies yearning.

Another veil. He shifts, restless.

I smile faintly. I can feel his desire vibrating between us like an invisible current tying us together.

Turning my back to him, eyes closed, I roll my hips. Before I can face him again, his hands are on me.

“You’re driving me insane,” he whispers against my ear, and I shiver.

He spins me around, his gaze devouring me as if feeding on my body with his eyes alone.

“Don’t stop dancing,” he orders, and to my surprise, he pulls off the third veil himself.

His hand comes to my nape, and our lips meet in a brief, fevered kiss. It feels unplanned, impulsive, as if he couldn’t hold himself back.

I drop the fourth veil.

It’s my turn to demand more. Lust won’t let me stay passive.

I turn again, brushing my ass against his erection. The way he grips my hips makes me crave to feel him against my bare skin. Pretending to follow the choreography, I grind slowly against him.

A guttural sound escapes his throat as I feel him toying with the clasp of my bodice.

“What are you doing?” I stammer, suddenly tense.