Tamed: The Barbarian King by Jennie Lucas

her nipples and neck. Even her supposedly injured scalp tingled with a feeling that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with—
    She cut off the thought. With Kareef so close to her, she was having difficulty thinking straight. What question had he asked her? She licked her lips. “I’m much…much better….”
    “The doctor will be here soon,” he said hoarsely. The hard muscles of his body seemed strained, almost shaking, as if he were struggling to hold himself in check. “Any moment, he will be here….”
    He started to pull away. And suddenly Jasmine couldn’t bear to lose his arms around her. Not after she’d been so cold for so long. Not when they were this close, this man she’d tried to hate, this man she’d never stopped craving.
    Leaning up, she pressed her mouth to his.
    It was a short kiss. A peck. Just enough to feel theroughness of his lips, his masculine power and strength. But it caused a hot fever to spread through her body.
    Kareef looked down at her in shock. She heard his hoarse, ragged breath as his hands gripped her shoulders.
    Then, with a growl, he pushed her back against the pillow as the simmering conflagration exploded into fire. He kissed her, hard and deep. His kiss was hungry. Brutal.
    He kissed her as if he’d been starving for her half his life.
     
    His arms wrapped around her, pressing Jasmine back against the pillows. He enfolded her small body with his larger one. His mouth was rough and savage against hers, bruising her lips even as his hands caressed the back of her head, holding her like a fragile rose.
    The hot demand of his kiss seared her, sending sparks down her body. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples tightening to painful intensity. An ache of longing coiled low in her belly, curling lower, lower still, between her thighs.
    His mouth never left hers as he stroked down the front of her body, from the smooth curve of her collarbone to her flat belly, seeing her with his fingertips. His feather-light touch against the smooth pink silk of her blouson dress caused exquisite agony of sensation. His kiss deepened, became more demanding. He gripped her bare arms, her shoulders, holding her down.
    How many nights had she dreamed of this? Of feeling his hands on her skin, of being in his bed?
    She was dreaming. She had to be. And she prayed she would never wake.
    His large hands splayed across her silken belly in thebright sunlight of the windows. He plundered her lips, spreading her mouth wide to accept his tongue.
    A soft moan escaped her. She wrapped her hands around his neck to hold his body against her. Their tongues intertwined, mingled, fought. His lips bruised hers—or was it the other way around? She no longer knew. Neither of them could hold thirteen years of desire in check. They barely kept themselves from causing injury to the other beneath the weight of their mutual, insatiable hunger.
    It was better than it had been at sixteen. Now, at twenty-nine, she knew how rare this fire truly was.
    She reached her hands beneath his shirt and felt the heat of his skin, the hard knots of his muscles and taut belly. Felt the soft coarse hair between the hard nubs of his nipples. With an intake of breath, he pulled back, grabbing her wrists.
    “Tonight, you are mine. Whatever the cost.” His voice was low and dark, as if ripped from the depths of his soul. “I will make you forget all the others.”
    Their eyes locked in a moment that seemed to stretch out to infinity. She swallowed.
    “There have been no others,” she whispered. “Only you. How could I give my body to another, when I am still your wife?”
    Her cheeks went hot, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. Would he mock her pathetic fidelity? Would he laugh at her?
    Then she heard his harsh intake of breath. “Jasmine.”
    Suddenly, his hands were in her long tangled hair, his body pressed against hers. His blue eyes were dark and hungry as he tilted back her head, exposing her throat.
    “Jasmine. My