Page 70 of Silver Angel

“No matter,” she insisted. “It can’t help to talk about it.”

“How do you know? And how do you know you won’t like what I want to do to you?”

She closed her eyes with a little groan, only to snap them open as she felt him lean closer. His face was now above hers, a mere breath away. His hand, still holding the band of her pants, turned so that she felt his palm against her skin. It wasn’t as warm as the smoldering heat of his gaze.

“I want to put my fingers inside you, Shahar.”

“Oh, God!” she got out before his mouth slanted across hers to add to the whirling of her senses that his words had caused.

Still, she reached for his arm, wrapping her fingers about his wrist. That there was no strength to her tug was not surprising.

“If you don’t give me something, woman, I am going to go mad,” he said against her lips.

His kiss turned fierce, possessive, as if he meant to devour her. She became even weaker under this onslaught, until her hand fell away. His hand immediately slid into her pants, the fingers parting her curls, moving down, finally doing what he said he had wanted to do.

Her reaction was to soar up against him, which allowed his fingers to press even deeper inside her. She clung to him, reeling in the most delicious sensation, mindless of anything except that pleasure.

“Oh, love, you’re so hot, so wet.”

Chantelle melted to his words, wrapping her arms around him, kissing him back with a frantic need. That he had spoken in English didn’t penetrate, she was so inflamed. And he continued to work his magic, not letting the fever abate for even a moment.

And then suddenly he was lying between her legs and there were no clothes between them. How he had managed it, she didn’t know, couldn’t recall at all. What had brought her to an awareness of it, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps the overall heat of his skin pressed to hers, belly to belly, chest to breast. Perhaps the vulnerability of having her legs parted to accommodate him. Perhaps because he had stopped kissing her for a breathless moment.

But there was no time for panic or fear to take hold. He had only waited for her awareness to crystallize, to see it in her violet eyes, and then he was kissing her again, his tongue plunging deeply. At the same time she felt the exquisite pleasure of his fingers inside her once more…no, not his fingers this time, but him, that part of him she had feared but feared no more.

Slowly, so slowly he entered her, and with such ease, for she was hot with waiting, moist with needing. There was a fullness unlike his fingers, a tightness that was much more delicious for her knowledge of what it was, and then a strange sensation as if something had popped inside her, not actually hurtful, but startling, then an even greater fullness so deep inside her.

His groan mingled with her own as he continued to kiss her, gently now, but no less passionately. He moved in no other way for a moment, and she didn’t mind, savoring this new feeling, knowing instinctively that there would be more. And there was. When his hips began a slow thrusting against her, her heartbeat seemed to pick up the same tempo, accelerating as he did, faster and faster, until she was jolted with a thunderbolt of liquid sensation so extreme she cried out, her arms tightening around him as he gathered her even closer, his own pulsating climax joining hers.

Chapter Thirty-three

Chantelle had drifted into a wondrous limbo where no thoughts could intrude, just a surfeit of feelings, all of them nice. Skin to skin tingling, a pleasant weight, a moist heat at her breasts, a slow heartbeat in her loins, so nice. She could have stayed like that indefinitely, if Jamil hadn’t started to tease, drawing circles around a nipple with his tongue, then blowing cool air on it until it puckered into a hard little nub.

This surge of feeling, though still pleasant, wasn’t quite so relaxing. It seemed to force Chantelle’s hands to that head above her breasts to bring the warm mouth back to her nipple.

“So you are awake?”

She smiled dreamily as he now began to suckle very gently. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

Her fingers delved into his hair, marveling at the baby-fine feel of it. He was lying on her, with his belly pressed into her groin. Finally realizing that sent a sweet sensation curling through her.

Suddenly a hand cupped each breast, and his chin rested between them. “Are you angry with me, little moon?”

She raised an arm to support her head so she could look at him. Angry? Was he serious?

“Do I look angry?”

“I took advantage of you.”

Her lips twitched upward a tad. “Did you?”

“I believe you were sure this would not happen unless we were in my bed.”

“Aren’t we in your bed?”

He grinned at her. “You see my point.”

“Very well, so you took advantage of me.”