Читать книгу Mills & Boon Modern February 2014 Collection - Ким Лоренс, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 31

CHAPTER TWO

GABE FELT THE thunder of his heart as their mouths made that first contact. The warmth of her flesh collided with his and her skin smelt of flowers and spice. Desire flooded through him like fire but his hot lust was tempered by the cool voice of reason.

This was insane.

Insane.

He thought about the way she’d burst into his suite and the surly-faced bodyguards who might return at any time. It was obvious she shouldn’t be here—and he was in danger of jeopardising a deal. A very important deal. He was here on business and due to dine at the Sultan’s palace in a little under two hours. There wasn’t time to make love to her properly—no matter how gloriously accessible she appeared to be.

So for God’s sake, get rid of her!

But the moment he chose to push her away was the moment she chose to wind her arms around his neck and to move her body against his and to whisper something breathless in a language he didn’t understand. The breath died in his throat as heat pooled in his groin and he was helpless to do anything other than deepen the kiss. He could feel the mound of her pubic bone pressing against his growing arousal—making his erection exquisitely hard and almost painful. Her tiny breasts were flattening themselves against his chest and, for the first time all day, his body felt warm instead of filled with the cold and aching memories of the past.

Tearing his mouth away, he stared down into her face, trying to ignore the provocative trembling of her lips. ‘That was a mistake,’ he said unsteadily. ‘And I think you’d better get out of here before I make another one.’

‘But what if I want you to?’ she questioned breathlessly. ‘What then?’

He felt another fierce stab of arousal as she looked at him. Her eyes were wide. Wide and bright. Shining as brightly as the aquamarine studs at her ears. He could feel his senses warring with his moral compass. Send her away before it’s too late. But he couldn’t stop looking at her or wanting her. Her lips were soft and gleaming. They looked as if they had been specially constructed to accommodate his erection and to suck him dry.

He thought about the dull pain nailed deep into his heart and how her soft body could alleviate it—even for an hour. Because sex could obliterate pain, couldn’t it? He could feel his resolve slipping away from him, like sand through his fingers, and wondered if there was a man on earth who could have resisted what was being offered to him now.

‘I’m giving you one last chance to get out of here,’ he said unevenly. ‘And I’d advise you to take it and go.’

‘But I don’t want to go anywhere,’ she whispered. ‘I want to stay right here.’

‘Then I make no apologies for doing this,’ he said. ‘Which I have been wanting to do ever since you first walked in.’

He started to unbutton her shirt, exposing the silken flesh beneath, and another fierce jerk of desire shot through him. She was perfect, he thought. Just perfect. Her olive skin was dark against a brassiere so white that it looked as if she’d put it on new that morning. He drifted his fingertips over the gentle swell of her breast. ‘So what have you got to say about that, Leila?’

Beneath the tantalising touch of his fingers, Leila grew weaker still. Where were the nerves she should be feeling? And why did it feel so natural? As if she had been waiting all her life for Gabe Steel to touch her like this?

‘I think it’s gorgeous,’ she said, praying he wouldn’t stop.

‘I want to kiss your breasts,’ he vowed unsteadily. ‘Each beautiful breast which is peaking towards me, just waiting to be kissed.’

A pulse was hammering at his temple and Leila jerked with pleasure as he lowered his mouth to one tightening nipple. His dark blond head contrasted against the snowy silk of her bra, and she could feel the fabric growing moist as he sucked her. She squirmed in time to each provocative lick of his tongue, as helpless then as she could ever remember feeling. And suddenly she understood what all the fuss was about. Why sex was so powerful. Why people did such crazy things to get it.

‘G-Gabe,’ she gasped, the word stumbling over itself in disbelieving pleasure.

He lifted his head to stare at her, and suddenly his grey eyes were not so cold. They seemed bright with pewter fire.

‘I think we’re going to have to skip the next few stages,’ he said. ‘In fact, if I don’t get you horizontal in the next couple of minutes, I think I’m going to go out of my mind.’

He caught hold of her fingers and led her straight into the bedroom she’d seen earlier—the bed still in rumpled disarray.

Now slightly disorientated, Leila looked around in faint bewilderment because she had never seen a room in such a state before. In her ordered and enclosed world, a servant would have attended to it while she’d been in the shower—making the bed all neat and pristine again and tidying away her discarded clothes.

She had never been lowered down onto untidy sheets which were still rich with the scent of the man who had slept in them. Nor towered over by someone whose mouth was tight as he continued to undress her. She stared up at him but he wasn’t staring back. He was too busy removing her trainers and then unzipping her jeans as if he’d removed countless pairs of women’s jeans in his life.

He probably had.

Of course he had.

Leila remembered what she’d read about him on the internet. Fragments of information about all the beautiful models and actresses he’d dated came drifting back. Women infinitely more experienced than she was.

She felt the cold shiver of insecurity reminding her to face facts and not be swept away by fantasy. She knew what men were like. How they were guided by the heat in their loins or the weight of their own ambition. She knew that they viewed women simply as possessions or as adornments—or as vessels to carry children.

She must not forget that.

This might feel as if she were living out a scene from a film, but it wasn’t a film. This was real life and Gabe Steel wasn’t suddenly going to turn into some fantasy hero and fall madly in love with her.

She didn’t believe in that kind of love.

Her head fell back against the pillow as she felt the slide of his fingertips brushing over her thigh and suddenly it was difficult to think about anything, other than how good it felt.

He tugged the jeans down over her knees and she could hear the soft rustle as they fell to the floor.

‘Nice knickers,’ he murmured before deftly removing her bra and shirt.

Leila blushed at his words, telling herself this was normal. This was natural. ‘Thanks,’ she said, as if men complimented her on her choice of underwear every day of the week.

He tugged off his T-shirt and stood up to unbutton his jeans, and Leila was mesmerised as he peeled them off. Her heart began to pound with excitement as his body was revealed to her, for she had only ever seen a horse from the royal stables in such a state of arousal before.

Yet he seemed proud and unashamed of his nakedness as he walked across the room and retrieved something from his suitcase. Leila saw the glint of foil and the reality of what she was about to do suddenly hit her.

Because that was a condom; she was certain of it. She might never have encountered one before, but what else could it be?

She felt the icy clamp of sweat on her forehead as reality suddenly broke into her erotic thoughts. Did all women feel this sudden sense of panic the first time? The fear that she might disappoint him?

He was putting the item on the table beside the bed, and while she knew that she should be grateful to him for being pragmatic, it destroyed the mood a little. Why was real life so messy? she wondered bitterly. In films, you never saw any of this. Couples seemed to find themselves in bed together almost by magic and then the scene cut to them giggling as they ran down a street, usually in Paris. Not that she and Gabe Steel would be running anywhere here in Simdahab—at least not without the Sultan’s guards giving chase. And if he didn’t come back here and kiss her soon, she was going to get cold feet.

But almost as if he’d read her mind, he came back and lay down beside her. His body was warm, but his face was sombre as he traced a thoughtful line around her lips.

‘Suddenly so serious,’ he said, his grey eyes narrowing. ‘As if you’ve started having regrets. Have you, Leila? Because we can stop this right now if that’s what you want.’

Leila closed her eyes as she felt the brush of his finger over her lips. And wouldn’t that be best? To put her clothes back on and get out of here as quickly as possible. She would feel embarrassed, and he might be angry with her for having led him on, but no real harm would have been done. She could slip away and act as if nothing had happened—because nothing had.

But then she thought about what awaited her back at the palace. She thought about all the inevitable restrictions and rules which had governed her life so far. All the things she wasn’t allowed to do and never would be able to do just because she was a woman and a princess. She thought about the royal prince her brother would probably arrange for her to one day marry. The watchful eyes of both nations as they waited for her to produce an heir, before her husband thankfully sought refuge in the pleasures of his harem, just as her own father had done.

And suddenly she thought why shouldn’t she experience this—as millions of other women had done? The way that men did almost every day of their lives. Why shouldn’t she have this one brief interlude of pleasure before she took up the duties which lay ahead of her?

She wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Kiss me,’ she whispered. ‘Kiss me. Please.’

He smiled as his mouth came down to cover hers, and suddenly it did feel like a fairy tale. As if her senses had been fine-tuned. As if she were capable of anything. Anything.

‘Oh,’ she said, her eyes fluttering to a close as he drifted his mouth to her neck to kiss it over and over. ‘Oh.’

Now his lips had found her breast and she could feel a thousand tiny sparks of pleasure as his tongue flicked against her puckered skin. She splayed her hands over his chest, where his heart pounded so strongly. She felt the coarse whorls of hair which grew there and she tugged at them—as playfully as a puppy with a new toy. His groan of delight filled her with confidence and she let her fingers drift downwards to explore the muscular flat of his belly and another helpless groan made her feel invincible. As if she could do anything or be anyone.

Anyone but herself.

He kissed her until she thought she would go out of her mind with longing. Until her heart was full of him. And suddenly, she wanted more. She could feel the restless movements of her body, orchestrated by a desire which seemed outside her understanding. Her fingers were kneading at his broad shoulders and she could hear him give a low laugh—as if her hunger pleased him. She could feel him tense as he began to nudge her legs apart with one insistent knee.

Her breath caught in her throat as he slid his hand between her thighs, and she cried out as he touched her where no man had ever touched her before.

‘God, you’re wet,’ he groaned.

‘Am I?’ she questioned almost shyly.

‘Mmm,’ he affirmed as his finger began to strum against her, moving against her heated flesh in a light and silken rhythm.

Against his shoulder, Leila closed her eyes and felt as if she might melt beneath his touch. It felt gorgeous. He felt gorgeous. Gorgeous Gabe Steel who had stopped touching her and was now tearing at the little packet of foil he’d left beside the bed.

His face was formidable as he moved over her again and suddenly it was happening, almost without warning. He was lifting up her hips and making one deep, long thrust inside her, and she was crying out—only this time her cry sounded different, because the pain was very real. She felt him grow still and her heart plummeted as she saw the new expression on his face. The intense pleasure had changed into an expression of disbelief as he stared down at her.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No.’

‘What?’ she gasped, because he was deep inside her and now that her body had adjusted to accommodate him, it felt amazing.

‘You’re a virgin?’

She sensed that he was about to pull out of her, but she had come this far and she couldn’t bear him to stop. Some deep instinct was governing her now, and she prevented his withdrawal by the simply expedient of tightening her body around him. She saw his eyes grow at first angry and then smoky as tentatively she moved her hips upwards so that he was deeper still.

‘So what if I am?’ she whispered. ‘Somebody’s got to be the first and that somebody happens to be you. Please, Gabe. I want to experience pleasure the way that other women do. I want you to show me how. I know you can show me how.’

Gabe shook his head as he felt her slick heat yielding to his helpless thrust. The potent combination of her innocence and tightness and the erotic words she was whispering was making him harder than he could ever remember feeling before. But she was a virgin, he reminded himself. Unbelievably, she was a virgin. She had come to his room—this complete stranger—and given herself to him without any kind of ceremony. What kind of woman did that? He felt perplexed and resentful at having been lured into a situation which wasn’t what it seemed.

So call a halt to it right now.

He swallowed. ‘This is—’

‘Heaven,’ she said, her voice an irresistible murmur. ‘You know it is. Don’t stop, Gabe. Please don’t stop.’

Her heartfelt plea was his final undoing. His anger evaporated and Gabe gave a groan of submission. Why fight it when she didn’t want him to stop and...oh, God, neither did he? Pushing himself up on his elbows, he stared down at her beautiful face as he began to move inside her.

Her eyes were closed and he was glad about that. He didn’t want to have to look at her; he just wanted to feel. He pushed deeper into her moist heat and groaned again, because she felt so good. She felt unbelievable. Was this why men spoke wonderingly about virgins, because they were so tight? Or because it gave a man a sense of power to know that he was the first?

But in the midst of all his macho triumph, he fought another wave of helplessness which was unfamiliar to him. Gone was the slick and seasoned Gabe who could last all night. He felt like a teenager who wanted instantly to explode inside her. But he mustn’t. This had to be nothing less than amazing, because it was her first time. He had to take it slowly.

Yet it wasn’t easy. He found himself stunned by the intense pleasure which was radiating through every pore of his body and not just because she was so tight. He realised how liberating it was not to have any emotional expectations hovering over him like a dark cloud. This really was sex without strings. Sex without the fear that she would fall in love with him and want more than he was ever prepared to give.

His thumb on her clitoris, he tilted her back against the pillows, listening to the rising volume of her cries. He watched as she began to move inexorably towards orgasm. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, and he met a clear flash of startled blue. As if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening to her.

‘Gabe?’ she whispered, her accented voice unsteady.

‘Relax.’ He gave another deep thrust. ‘Just. Let. Go.’

He saw her lips frame something which was destined never to be said as her eyelashes flew down to shutter out the blue. And then her body started to quiver helplessly around him and her back began to arch. He heard the words she said as she convulsed around him, although she spoke them in a language he didn’t understand. He kissed away the muffled little cries which followed and tried to ignore her fingernails, which were now digging painfully into his back. He waited until her body was almost still before he let go himself, spilling out his seed in great wrenching bursts he never wanted to end.

For a moment he felt so dazed that it was almost as if he’d been drugged. Today, of all days—his body was warm and pulsing with life, instead of feeling empty and cold or deliberately anaesthetised. From between slitted eyes, he surveyed her. Her glossy black hair was tumbling down over her breasts and her perfect olive skin was flushed.

He lifted his hand to her cheek and felt her shiver beneath that light touch. ‘Who are you?’ he questioned, but she leaned over him and kissed his lips into silence.

‘Shh,’ she said, and her voice was very gentle. ‘You look weary. Go to sleep, Gabe. Just go to sleep.’