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Ever since Khaled had entered Bacelli’s salon, this moment had been unavoidable. Even from that first moment the attraction between them had been apparent. And ever since then it had been building, smouldering away, gathering force in spite of all that had happened to force them apart, despite all she had done to protect herself.
This moment was her destiny, her fate.
He took her mouth again as he raised himself up onto his elbows, positioning himself above her. His eyelids were heavy, his brow glossed satin with sweat.
She felt his weight, settling at her entrance, testing, probing, and instinctively she lifted her hips to welcome him with her own slick need, wanting him closer still, needing the completion, needing to have him deep inside.
And then he was. He plunged full length, driving his hips into hers, throwing back his head as if in triumph as his back arched over her.
Time stood still. She was unable to breathe, unable to think, unaware of anything beyond the exquisite sensation of him stretching her, of him filling her completely.
And then he moved inside her and a new wave of nerve endings came into play. Slowly he withdrew, only to fill her again and then again, and with each thrust the sensations grew, the pleasure mounted, wave upon wave of sheer ecstasy, building, always building.
She could feel his tension in his corded arms, she could sense his own battle for control, she could feel her mounting need for release mirrored in his own as the waves rolled in, the rhythm quickening and threatening to carry her away.
And then he took her there himself, with one final thrust that sent them both spiralling, shattering out of control, sending a tidal wave of sensation crashing over them, violent and primal, until it left them sweat-slickened and panting, their bodies spent, like so much driftwood left on the shore.
It was enough. She came to slowly, her pulse steadying, her body humming, dimly aware that, while it was still late at night, this was a brand-new day; and that, although she was still Sapphy Clemenger, on another level she was a stranger, even to herself.
She looked at him, settled into her shoulder, his eyes closed, his steadying breaths warm on her breast, his beautiful body majestic even in repose.
He’d changed her.
Never before had she experienced such need, such desire, and never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that lovemaking could be so mind-blowingly spectacular. Not that it had been bad before, just that in hindsight it seemed as though making love had been on another level, almost as if some vital ingredient had been missing.
If this night gave her nothing more, she would indeed have some warm memories to keep her company during her lonely nights back in her apartment in Milan.
Milan. She sucked in a breath. She’d be back there in less than two days, assuming the airport reopened as planned. And for all her desperation to escape from Khaled and return to Italy, the city itself had lost some of its appeal. Somehow she couldn’t see herself slotting straight back into work. Even involved in the crazy, fast-paced fashion industry, it was going to seem strangely dull after her visit to Jebbai with its enigmatic ruler.
Maybe first she should take some leave, go home to Australia and visit her sisters and Pearl and check up on her baby niece. She was owed some time and it wasn’t as if she couldn’t start sketching up designs for the next collection while she was travelling. She’d talk to Gianfranco as soon as she was back in Milan.
His eyes blinked open and she realised she’d been staring at his face the whole time. He smiled and reached out a hand, stroking it down the side of her face and brushing away the loose strands of hair.
‘You look…deep in thought,’ he said, his voice rich and low enough to make her toes curl all over again.
She flicked her gaze away. He didn’t need to know she was having second thoughts about returning straight to Milan. It wasn’t as if it had anything to do with him. ‘I was just—thinking about my family.’
He rolled closer, pressing his lips to her neck. ‘You don’t talk about them much, apart from when you went camel riding with your sisters. Tell me about them.’
She tried to ignore the feeling of his mouth leaving tiny kisses along her collar-bone, although the sensation was strangely soothing while at the same time it seemed highly erotic.
‘I haven’t seen them for far too long.’
‘You’re not close?’
‘We used to be closer.’
‘What changed things?’
She drew in a deep breath and rolled over, away from the distraction of his mouth, to somewhere bland she could direct her words, like the pillow in front of her. ‘Oh, it was nothing bad. My mother came back…’
He said nothing for a few seconds. Then, ‘I don’t understand.’
She turned her face back to him. ‘We thought she’d died when Ruby and I were four. It turns out she’d been living in exile at that time—banished by our father.’
‘How did you find her?’
‘Opal’s husband, Domenic, tracked her down to where she was living in England. He took her back to Sydney. She lives there now, in the family hotel that Opal runs. Dad died a couple of years before. He was always busy when we were young and it was usually just the three of us girls growing up with the nanny of the day. But Opal was our big sister. She looked after us better than anyone.’
