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Sylvie spoke what was in her heart and soul. And in her body. ‘I want you, Arkim.’
He came closer and lifted a hand, undoing the pin holding up her damp hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. He put his hands on her arms and pulled her closer. Closer to that bare wet chest. Until they were touching. Until the points of her breasts hurt with the need to press against him more fully. His erection pushed against her lower belly and excitement flooded her, making her ready.
‘Arkim...’ she said, not even sure what she was asking for. Why wasn’t he taking her right now? Making the most of his conquering?
‘You’re sure you want this?’
Sylvie hadn’t been expecting this consideration. Another dangerously tender emotion ran through her. She didn’t hesitate. She moved closer, feeling the delicious press of her breasts against him.
‘Yes.’
Just one word. Simple, but devastating.
In a rush of emotion she said, ‘I want to give you—’ But she stopped, not sure how to articulate exactly what she did want to give him. So she just said a little lamely, ‘I want to give you myself.’
Arkim’s hands were so tight on her arms it almost hurt, but then they relaxed marginally and he bent down for a moment. She felt herself being lifted into his arms, against his chest, and he walked back the way she’d come.
One of her arms was tight around his neck and she ducked her head into his chest, eyes shut tight. Her other hand was on her robe, holding it together. She didn’t want to catch the knowing eyes of that woman, or anyone else. She felt too raw and needy.
And also dangerously cossetted, held in his arms like this.
She pushed down all the tangled emotional implications of how she was feeling and focused on the urgent hunger racing through her blood.
When everything felt cooler and darker Sylvie knew that they’d entered an interior space and opened her eyes again. It had to be Arkim’s tent—similar to hers, but bigger, more masculine, with bolder colours. And the bed in the centre of the tent was...huge.
Arkim carried her over and put her down on her feet by the side of it. She avoided looking at it by looking at him.
He cupped her face with his hand. ‘I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you. I saw it as a weakness, as something to be denied...but not any more.’
Sylvie felt vulnerable. She believed him, and his words had all sorts of implications she couldn’t think about right now.
Acting on impulse, she raised herself on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck. ‘Stop talking...you’re ruining the moment.’
Arkim smiled, and it was devilish. It made something soar inside her.
He tugged the belt on Sylvie’s robe and it fell open. She unwrapped her arms from his neck and stood before him, heart palpitating wildly as Arkim pushed the robe apart, revealing her naked body to his dark gaze.
He looked at her for a long moment, until Sylvie could start to feel herself trembling lightly. She was someone who knew her own body intimately, as any dancer would, but right now it felt foreign, and she was insecure.
‘You’re shaking.’
She looked at him and tried a smile. ‘You’re quite intimidating.’
Arkim’s answer to that was to take off the material around his waist before he pushed her robe off her shoulders so that it fell down her arms and to the floor.
‘Now we’re equal.’
Those words impacted deep inside her. All along she’d fought a battle with this man not to let him make her feel inferior, less than him. The moment was heady.
Arkim turned then, taking her with him as he moved closer to the bed. Sylvie was unbalanced and fell against him, but he caught her easily and drew her down with him, so they landed on the soft surface in a sprawl of limbs.
She was lying on top of his hard body, every inch of her flesh coming into contact with his. She felt dizzy. And then Arkim’s hands were smoothing down her bare back and cupping her buttocks, pulling her thighs apart so that they lay either side of his hips.
His mouth reached up to hers and Sylvie felt her hair fall over her shoulders, screening them as she fell into the kiss...wet and rough and intoxicating.
After more long, languorous kisses Arkim moved, so that Sylvie was now the one on her back, and he loomed over her, huge and awe-inspiring in the gloom of the tent. One of his thighs was between her legs and he moved it against her, making her body twitch and ache. The friction caused a delicious tension to coil inside her and she bit her lip.
Arkim’s gaze roved over her body hungrily. ‘You are more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.’
