Page 49 of Silver Angel

She moved, twisting to slide over his pillow in front of him. But she couldn’t lay her head on his bent knee as he had suggested. That was too intimate by far. She rested back on her elbows instead, aware that this position thrust her breasts forward, but unable to help it. She didn’t have large breasts, though she didn’t think they were that small either. But in comparison to those of his other women, they were small, and so she hoped he would not even notice them.

He didn’t. He was staring at her midriff, and Chantelle groaned inwardly. She supposed it had been too much to hope that when he had mentioned her exposed skin, he was thinking of her bare arms. He wasn’t. His hand dropped slowly toward her belly, and when it finally rested there, she sucked in her breath, for it felt so hot she imagined herself branded.

“What?” he asked, and her eyes flew to his face, finding his eyes had been drawn to hers with the sound she had made.

“Nothing,” she squeaked and, hearing the sound, groaned in embarrassment.

“You will come to no harm under my hand, Shahar, but you must relax.”

“I—I can’t.”

“Why?”

His fingers had spread wide over her belly, covering nearly the entire area. And his hand moved now, in a slow, soothing circle. But it wasn’t soothing. Her muscles were contracting, as if they could jump away from the contact of his flesh on hers. Even her insides seemed to be leaping in an attempt to escape….

“Why?” he repeated with more insistence. “Have I given you reason to fear me?” Then he added with a touch of annoyance, “Today?”

She thought about it for a moment, but there was only one answer that was truthful. “No.”

“Then what is wrong?”

Everything, she thought, but said only, “No man has ever put his hands on me like this before.”

“I know,” he said, surprising her. “Your innocence is why we are here instead of in there.” He nodded toward his bedchamber.

Chantelle immediately took hope that the day of reckoning had not actually arrived, that this meeting was for her to become used to him and no more. He was quick to disabuse her of that notion.

“Do not mistake me, Shahar. Wewillgo inside—when you are ready.”

She would never be ready. She almost told him so but thought better of it. What would he consider readiness on her part, anyway? She wasn’t going to appear so, whatever it was.

He sighed then and caught the hand that rested next to his side, pulling it out from under her. “You cannot relax unless you lie back.”

“I don’t want—”

“Lie back, Shahar.”

It was an order, given in such a tone that she obeyed it instantly, afraid to do otherwise. And what else could she do, anyway, with him so close that he could easilymakeher obey him? But if he thought she could relax, he was crazy.

She laid her head on the very edge of his knee, keeping as much distance between them as possible. She was acutely aware of his hips so near her shoulder, and one of the things Vashti had taken particular delight in telling her about pleasuring him came to mind, and with it a scalding blush. But his position didn’t change. His hips were nearly flat against the pillow. Only the upper portion of his body was twisted to face her.

“I am going to taste you now, Shahar.”

That softly murmured warning caused her to bolt straight up, only to have him push her right back down. Visions of him biting her flashed through her mind, and she tried frantically to remember if she had seen the scars of his teeth on any of his other women. But before the thought was even finished, his hand moved to grip her side and his mouth opened on her navel. She jerked, a scream welling in her throat, only to feel his tongue, not his teeth.

She relaxed so completely then that he chuckled. “Did you think I meant to devour you, little moon? I must confess I do have the urge to, though I promise you it would not hurt. Another time, perhaps.”

His mouth returned to her navel, making her desperate to leap up and away from him. But she couldn’t, not with his right arm lying across her rib cage with enough pressure to keep her from rising off the pillow. She tried closing her eyes and concentrating on something else. Her eyes popped open immediately, for with them closed she felt his tongue too intensely. But even so, there was a wealth of agitation just beneath his mouth, as if she were trembling deep inside.

She didn’t recognize the sensations he was causing her to experience. She wanted to push his head away. She wanted to hold it to her. Irrational—God, what was wrong with her?

She heard his sigh, deep and fanning over her wet skin, making her shiver. “You still won’t relax, will you?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” she nearly wailed, afraid of his displeasure after being warned never to cause it.

“If I stop tasting you here”—and his tongue delved once more into her navel—“will you accept my lips in a more conventional place?”

“Yes.” Anything to get his mouth away from her belly.