Читать книгу Mills & Boon New Voices: Foreword by Katie Fforde - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 12

GENIE’S SENSES WERE on high alert as Zafir held her close, their bodies swaying together. The longer she was with him, the less she wanted to be anywhere else. And that was dangerous, so very dangerous.

His body was warm, hard, and her skin sizzled where his fingers rested against her back. The dress that had been so comfortable before now felt like the roughest cloth against her sensitive skin. She wanted out of it, and yet she did not. To take that step was to go down a path she’d never thought to travel again.

“I cannot believe you are here,” Zafir said in her ear, his breath tickling her and sending a shiver down her spine. “I had never thought to see you again.”

That his thoughts so eerily echoed hers only made her ache more.

“It would have been better that way,” she said.

“I disagree.” And then he kissed her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to say no if he kept kissing her this way. So sweetly, as if she was a treasure he’d discovered. So tenderly, as if she meant the world to him.

Yet she knew she didn’t. This was physical and, yes, perhaps even a bit sentimental. She didn’t fool herself that it was anything else. Could she handle that?

“Do you remember how it was between us? How amazing?” he asked, his breath soft against her mouth.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I want that feeling again, Genie.”

His mouth fused to hers once more, and she melted away into a mass of nerve-endings that existed only to respond to his touch. Her body was on fire with remembered bliss, with the anticipation of more. It had been so long since she’d been with anyone—and now he was here, the man she’d never really stopped loving, and he wanted her.

And, God help her, she wanted him too. Just once. Just this once.

Because she didn’t have the strength to fight herself anymore.

She slid her arms around his neck, arched into him. He groaned his appreciation, squeezed her closer. One broad hand spread over her buttocks, kneaded her, pulling the cradle of her hips against his erection. He found her most sensitive spot, his body putting pressure against hers in just the right location.

Genie gasped as sensation shot through her. Zafir slid the jeweled straps from her shoulders, his mouth finding the sensitive area where her shoulder joined her neck. It had always driven her crazy, and no doubt he remembered it.

Though how he remembered after so long was something she couldn’t fathom at the moment. Not when desire and heat were tingling through her body like this.

“I need to know,” she gasped, “if there’s anyone else in your life right now.”

He pulled back to look down at her very solemnly. “There is no one.”

Genie closed her eyes as relief washed over her. If there had been a woman—a mistress, a fiancée—she could not go through with this no matter how much she ached for him. “Then touch me, Zafir.”

If he didn’t touch her she would die.

His voice was as warm and rich as melted honey. “I intend to, habiba. Most thoroughly.”

When his fingers slid to her zipper, she felt a stab of apprehension. “What if someone sees us?”

His laugh against the skin of her shoulder vibrated through her body. “No one would dare. We will not be disturbed.”

He spun her around and pulled her zipper all the way down. Then he slid the dress from her body. She stepped out of it, her heart hammering, her head telling her she was making a mistake, that this was too fast and too dangerous. That she was sinking into the quicksand of her need for this man, when she’d worked so hard to free herself from it the first time.

Behind her, Zafir groaned softly.

“You never wore this sort of underwear before,” he said, his fingers sliding along the top edge of her thong.

Before she’d realized what he was doing, his hot mouth was on her back. His tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of her spine before he placed a kiss on her bare buttocks, and then the curve beneath where her leg began. He turned her with his hands, gazing up at her with such heat and need in his eyes that she shivered anew.

“I am a king on his knees for you,” he said. “And I hardly know where to begin.”

“You’ll ruin your trousers.” It was an inane reply, but she couldn’t trust herself to say anything else.

“I do not care,” he replied, reaching for her. He quickly unsnapped the clasp of her strapless bra, which fell away and exposed her bare breasts to his gaze.

Her nipples were hard, tight points, begging for his touch. Goosebumps rose on her bare flesh, but not because she was cold. Zafir licked first one tip and then the other, before suckling them into even more sensitive buds than they already were.

Genie’s head fell back, her hands gripping his shoulders. She felt wanton, hot, restless, and so completely unsatisfied. Not that his mouth wasn’t magical, not that she didn’t love what he was doing, but she ached to feel him inside her again.

When he left her breasts and trailed hot kisses down her abdomen she sucked in her breath, knowing what he planned and dying for it all at once. Her panties fell away as he pushed them down her hips, and then he was cupping her buttocks, pulling her to him, his tongue sliding into her secret recesses, finding the bud of her desire.

She cried out as he circled her clitoris, sucked it between his lips, then circled and sucked again and again. Her legs were jelly, but his strong grip on her kept her upright while he drove her to completion with his lips and tongue.

When she shattered, she didn’t care who heard her as she rode wave after wave of blinding sensation.

But still it wasn’t enough. And Zafir knew it too. He climbed to his feet while she sagged against the table. Shrugging out of his jacket and shirt, he dropped them to the ground. A moment later he’d lifted her onto the stone table and stepped between her legs. As she leaned back on her hands he unfastened his trousers and rolled on a condom. She didn’t even bother to wonder how he’d known to be prepared.

Then he was hooking his arms behind her knees and drawing her forward until the tip of his penis slid into her entrance.

Genie drew in a sharp breath. Zafir closed his eyes, swallowed. And then he plunged forward, their bodies joining so deeply and thoroughly that they both cried out.

He grew utterly still, though she could feel him throbbing in the heart of her. “Did I hurt you?”

Genie shook her head, tears building behind her eyelids. It hurt, but not the way he meant. Physically, yes, he was big, and it had been a long time, but her body accommodated him the way it always had.

No, the pain was in her heart, her soul.

“Don’t stop,” she said, and then he was moving, plunging into her while she wrapped her legs around him and braced herself on the table.

She hadn’t known her body could be so responsive, that she could be on fire so quickly after he’d taken her over the edge. But she gripped him hard, her hips working in time with his, her body catching the wave and riding it higher and higher.

Zafir must have sensed when she was close, because he lifted her against him, angled his thrusts so they were deeper and more intense—

And that was when she exploded, when her body dissolved into a mass of fire and sound and sensation that reached into her fingertips, her toes, her scalp. Everything sizzled, and she cried out with the intensity of it, the utter bliss.

She hadn’t even realized that Zafir tumbled over the edge with her until he set her carefully back down and withdrew from her body. His skin gleamed in the candlelight, his chest rising and falling more quickly than before.

He was magnificent, exotic, and her body still craved his like a drug—though she was exhausted and, at least temporarily, sated. He turned away from her, and she felt as if she’d been basking in the sun’s rays only to have a black cloud block their warmth.

What had she done?

Genie couldn’t move, though she had a sudden urge to do so. It was as if her good sense had come trickling back, but too late. She wanted to snatch up the dress and cover herself.

She felt too raw, too exposed. She’d just had amazingly hot sex with a king.

On a table. In a garden.

But that wasn’t what made her want to cover up. She felt as if her heart was as exposed as her body, as if he could see that it beat only for him. That it had always beat only for him.

Because this was Zafir—her prince, her lover, the man who’d once been everything to her.

And that made her angry. Angry with him for being here, for being so unrelenting, and with herself for being unable to hold fast to her vow not to have sex with him ever again. What in the hell was wrong with her?

“Will you let me excavate the temples now?” she threw into the air between them. Because he’d won, hadn’t he? Because she was an idiot, and because she still loved him in spite of everything, and because she was suddenly so insecure that she had to lash out to protect herself.

His shoulders stiffened, and she wished with all her heart she could take it back. But words once spoken were out there, hanging in the air, and she could no more call them back than she could undo what they’d just done together.

Zafir turned, his trousers zipped again, his gaze as hard and cold as marble. He let his eyes wander over her lazily, insultingly. She pushed herself to a sitting position and wrapped her arms around herself.

“You were good, Genie. But not that good.”