‘Did you come up to see this particular suite before you booked it?’
‘No. Should I have? Is there something wrong with it?’
‘Not at all,’ Charlotte denied.
But he was in for a surprise. She hoped he liked it. She certainly had, despite being initially startled.
Daniel saw the gleam in her eyes and wondered what was waiting for him. Whatever it was, he was sure he would approve. Anything that pleased Charlotte this much would please him.
The Arabian Nights suite was the first one along the carpeted corridor, its name outlined in gold on the door. Shoving the plastic card into the lock, Daniel waited for the green light, turned the brass handle then pushed the rather heavy door open. The darkness inside was soon dispelled when he slid the card into the slot by the door, the lights coming on automatically.
‘Good God!’ he couldn’t help exclaiming.
‘You think it’s over-the-top?’ she asked, sounding disappointed by his reaction.
‘No, no, it’s fabulous.’
Her face beamed with more happiness than it had all night.
‘Come and see the rest,’ she said excitedly, taking his hand and pulling him across the black, marble-floored foyer and under a very ornate Moroccan-style archway. There, the marble gave way to thick, velvety red carpet that sank underfoot further than any carpet he’d ever encountered.
‘This carpet is amazing,’ he said. Just made for making love on.
And so were the sofas!
There were three of them. Low and wide and colourful, they were slightly curved, arranged around a circular, black-lacquered coffee-table on which rested a huge platter of fresh fruit, and a gilt ice bucket holding a magnum of champagne.
Beyond the sofas, curtains the colour of the water around Tahiti framed a floor-to-ceiling window that showed a panoramic view of the city skyline. There was no overhead lighting. Only lamps and wall lights. All gold. All exotic-looking.
‘Look up at the ceiling,’ she said.
His eyes moved up the deep blue walls to the very high ceiling above, which was draped in black silk shot with gold.
Wow. He now understood why this place had cost so much.
‘Fit for a sheikh,’ he remarked.
‘That’s the idea. It’s supposed to tap into people’s fantasies.’
‘Do you have a sheikh fantasy?’ he asked, reaching to pull her into his arms once more.
She gasped as their chests made contact. ‘Only if you’re the sheikh.’
He liked the sound of that.
‘So tell me,’ he murmured as he set about removing her tiara and veil, ‘how does that fantasy go?’
Charlotte shivered at the touch of his fingers in her hair.
‘You have your wicked way with me all night,’ she confessed breathlessly. ‘And I love every single moment.’
‘That’s not fantasy, my beautiful Charlotte. That’s going to be reality.’ He tossed her veil and tiara onto the nearest sofa, before suddenly quirking an eyebrow at her. ‘All night?’
‘See? I told you it was a fantasy.’
‘No, no. I’m sure I can rise to the challenge. But I have only limited protection with me. I will have to be inventive when they run out. Do you mind inventive, beautiful Charlotte?’
‘I don’t think I’d mind anything with you,’ she told him truthfully as her heart thundered behind her ribs.
Daniel suppressed a groan. There went his intentions to be a caring, considerate and conservative lover tonight.
Still, she clearly didn’t want a caring, considerate and conservative lover tonight. She wanted the sheikh fantasy, where the dark and dangerous desert prince carried her off by force, thereby wiping away any sense of shame or guilt if she just happened to enjoy herself. She wanted him to take total responsibility for what happened here tonight. She wanted him to play the sheikh.
Fine. He could do that. Especially here, in this incredibly erotic setting. He’d already glimpsed the bedroom through another archway and it made the exotic living room look almost sedate.
‘Come,’ he said in a masterful tone. ‘We shall retire to the boudoir.’
‘Wait till you see it!’
Daniel tried not to ooh and aah.
But talk about harem territory. This was full-on.
‘I’m sure honeymooners love it,’ Charlotte said with a nervous little laugh.
Not just honeymooners, Daniel thought as he looked from the raised, black-lacquered four-poster bed with its filmy white curtains up to the mirrored ceiling above. Once again, the carpet underfoot was lush and thick, though this time it was green. Emerald-green. Everything else in the room, however, was black, white or silver.
‘Lots of silver,’ he commented. The wallpaper was silver, and so were the edges of the mirrors, and the thread running through the white satin quilt. ‘I would have expected gold.’
‘The bathroom has gold fittings,’ she said. ‘To go with the black marble, I guess.’
‘They said it had a spa bath.’
‘Yes, a huge one.’ She flushed at the mention of the bath.
Surely not from shyness, Daniel reasoned. No woman who’d chosen the wedding dress she was wearing was shy about her body.
‘Good,’ he said.
Daniel decided any more delay would be counterproductive. ‘I think it’s time to check out that bathroom,’ he said, reaching for her. ‘But first, let’s get you out of that dress.’ And he turned her round.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHARLOTTE sucked in sharply when his hands started work on the laces that anchored the bustier top to her body. Louise had tied them very tightly so that her waist was pulled in as far as it would go, the compression pushing her ribs in and her breasts upwards, giving her an extreme, hourglass shape.
She wore no bra. None had been needed, the top of her gown heavily boned and lined. Once Daniel got the laces undone, Charlotte knew that the top would fall from her body, leaving her naked from the waist up.
Just the thought turned her on.
She’d never been this eager to be naked before. Or to have a man’s hands on her body.
‘Aah, now I get it,’ Daniel said as the bodice went slack around her. ‘The top’s separate from the skirt.’
The freeing of her breasts from the skin-tight constriction brought with it a wave of melting heat. When he removed the top right away from her body, she swayed.
‘Hey!’ he said softly, his arms sliding around her just underneath her breasts. ‘Don’t go fainting on me.’
Her answer was a soft moan, her eyes fluttering shut as she leant back against him in blissful surrender.
When his hands moved upwards to cup her breasts she almost cried out, her nipples stabbing at the centre of his palms. As though he knew what they wanted, he spread his hands out flat and rotated his palms slowly over the taut peaks.
Charlotte gasped, then groaned.
He kept up the rotating motion till her breasts were swollen and her nipples so sensitive that the sensations he created were close to pain.
Just when she felt she could bear it no longer, he stopped. Perversely, she opened her mouth to protest.