Dreaming Of... France: The Husband She Never Knew / The Parisian Playboy / Reunited...in Paris!

A thrill ran through her. She felt emboldened and powerful as she stepped closer to him and began to undo the buttons of his shirt. She felt him tremble under her touch and she fumbled with the button, laughing softly.

‘My fingers are shaking.’ In answer Ammar reached for her hand and placed it over his heart; she could feel it thunder in his chest. ‘Mine, too,’ she whispered, and undid another button. It seemed to take forever to undo them all, but finally she was sliding the shirt off his broad shoulders, glorying in the feel of sleek skin and hard muscle. She loved touching him. She’d been aching to do it for so long, and now that she could she felt like a child in a sweet shop, looking around in wonder. Hers. He was all hers.

His shirt fell to the floor and she gazed at his bare chest, the sprinkling of dark hair veeing down to the waistband of his trousers, the sculpted muscles and taut lines of his beautiful body. ‘Now what?’ she asked shakily.

‘Round two,’ Ammar murmured, and icy heat raced through her as he reached for the button of her skirt and popped it open with his thumb. Just the brush of his fingers against her bare tummy sent another blaze of desire shooting through her, and she swayed on her feet as he unzipped and slid the skirt down her legs, falling to his knees in front of her.

‘Ammar …

He slid his hand down the length of her bare leg, his touch sure and possessive, and then balanced her with his other hand as he helped her to step out of her skirt. Undressing, Noelle thought hazily, had never taken so long nor felt so erotic.

Then she stopped thinking at all as Ammar hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her knickers and slowly slid those down her legs as well, so she was completely naked.

He slid his hands back up her legs to her hips, cradling her surely as he arched her pelvis towards him. Noelle’s eyes fluttered closed as he pressed a kiss at the juncture of her thighs, one little kiss that still sent waves of pleasure pulsating through her. Then he righted her again and stood up.

‘Now me.’

Noelle eyed his belt buckle and trouser zip with a dazed scepticism, for her fingers were trembling so much she wasn’t sure she’d be able to manage any of it. Her whole body was trembling, shaking with the force of her desire for him.

‘This might take a while,’ she joked, and Ammar smiled.

‘I told you we weren’t rushing.’

Noelle reached for his belt buckle, fumbling with it helplessly. ‘For a woman who specialises in accessories, you don’t know your way around a belt very well,’ he admonished wryly, and she gave a soft laugh.

‘I’m hopeless.’

Ammar wrapped his fingers around hers, stilling them on his belt. ‘Nothing about this,’ he said quietly, ‘is hopeless.’

Noelle felt a lump rise in her throat. ‘You’re right,’ she whispered. This moment was full of hope and wonder and love. She felt dizzy with it all. ‘Still,’ she managed, ‘I’d like to get your trousers off.’

‘I’d like that, too.’

He smiled at her, his expression so full of desire and love that Noelle felt a flare of joyful power and quickly she undid his belt, unzipped his trousers. She slid his trousers down his legs and then glanced at his boxers, his arousal gloriously evident. Ammar caught her chin in his fingers and she realised she’d been staring.

‘Touch me,’ he said softly, and she slid his boxers off and wrapped her hand around the hard, silky length of his erection. ‘Oh, Noelle,’ he said with a shuddering breath. ‘I love you.’

She let out a choked cry, overwhelmed by the poignancy and even sacredness of the moment. Ammar drew her to him, her naked body so wonderfully pressed against his, every point in exquisite and aching contact.

Then Ammar led her to the huge bed with its silk duvet and laid her down as gently and reverently as a treasure. He joined her and they lay there for a moment, unspeaking, the only sound the soft draw and sigh of their breathing. Slowly he slid his hand over her body, smoothing her skin from shoulder to hip. Noelle lifted her own hand and did the same, loving the feel of him, revelling in the freedom she felt in touching him.

Ammar drew her to him for a deep, lingering kiss that turned hungry, demanding, the intensity of their desire taking them over. He pulled her to him, his hands roving over her as he kissed her again, just as deeply, and Noelle hooked one leg around his, felt the insistent brush of his arousal against her and arched towards him.

Neither of them spoke, but no words were needed. There was just this, the brush of lips and fingers, the soft sigh of surrender and pleasure. Noelle’s hands curled around the taut muscles of Ammar’s shoulders as he finally, wondrously slid inside her. He paused, and in that silent moment Noelle knew they were both overwhelmed by the sense of completion and wholeness the joining of their bodies had brought.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and arched upwards, accepting him even more fully as Ammar began to move with smooth, sure strokes. Noelle found his rhythm and matched it, their bodies working sinuously and sensuously together, and as pleasure surged through her, spiralling upwards and upwards, she cried out his name and buried her head in the curve of his shoulder, racked by sudden, helpless sobs of joy.

Sunlight streamed through the crack between the curtains of Ammar’s bedroom and with a sudden scraping sound he opened them, letting the hard lemon-yellow light bathe the room with its brightness.

Noelle rolled over in the bed, felt the yawning empty space next to her as she stretched. She felt wonderfully sated, her whole body filled with a wonderful languor even as it pulsed with the memory of last night. Neither of them had got much sleep.

Ammar glanced back at her now, eyebrows raised. He seemed, Noelle thought, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. His chest was bare, a pair of drawstring trousers riding low on his hips so she could see the hard ridge of bone and taut muscle. He looked, as always, mouth-dryingly gorgeous.

‘Sleep well?’ he asked, and she gave a little laugh.

‘I don’t think I slept much at all.’

His mouth curved in a knowing smile. ‘Funny, I didn’t, either.’

She pushed a tangle of hair away from her eyes, wanting to ask him to come back to bed, but the words caught in her throat. Last night had been wonderful, but she still felt strangely shy this morning. He came anyway, sitting on the edge as he glanced at her solemnly.

‘It’s Sunday.’

‘Is it?’ The weekend had flown by, and yet at the same time Noelle felt as if she’d been here for ever. A lifetime lived in the space of a few days.

‘You need to go back to Paris.’

She stared at him, not wanting to grasp the implication. ‘I do?’

‘From the horrified look on your face, I take it you’ve come to appreciate desert living.’

‘I suppose I have.’

‘But needs must,’ he said, rising from the bed. ‘I’d hate to cost you your job.’

Her job. Noelle sank back against the pillows. She hadn’t given Arche even a thought for at least twenty-four hours. After two days’ unexplained absence, she wasn’t even sure she’d have a job left. She could definitely forget about the promotion. Why didn’t she care? Because, she realised with a pang, she had never loved the job in the first place. She’d tried to and she’d poured her life in it, the new life she’d created post-Ammar that bore no resemblance to the person she’d been with him, the person she wanted to be now. Her true self. When I’m with him, she thought, I’m the woman I want to be.

‘I have some work to do in the Paris office anyway,’ Ammar said, distracting her as he reached for a T-shirt and slid it over his head. Noelle watched the sculpted muscles of his chest disappear beneath the white cotton with a flicker of regret. ‘We can fly out this afternoon.’

‘We’ll both go?’

‘That’s the idea.’

It was a wonderful idea, Noelle thought. A normal and yet intoxicating idea—living in the same city, sharing simple pleasures. They’d go on dates. They’d watch films and eat take-away and sleep—what little sleep they might get—in the same bed.

A few hours later, they took a helicopter to Marrakech, touching down at the airport only to board a private plane that would take them to Paris. Noelle settled into a sumptuous sofa of cream leather with a sigh of appreciation.

‘Do you always take a private jet, wherever you go?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’ Ammar sat across from her and opened his briefcase.

‘It must be an awful expense.’

He took a sheaf of papers out. ‘It’s worth it.’

There was something repressive about his manner, the way he wouldn’t look at her. Noelle felt a flicker of unease. She knew he didn’t like to talk about Tannous Enterprises. She didn’t really like to ask. But, sitting there across from him, she was conscious of how much she didn’t know. ‘You said you wanted to legitimise Tannous Enterprises,’ she said quietly. ‘What does that mean exactly?’

‘Exactly what it sounds like.’ Ammar was still scanning his papers, clearly unwilling to look her in the eye or continue this conversation.