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She moved trembling fingers into the dense luxuriance of his cropped black hair. ‘Shahir…’
‘I like the way you say my name…’ With a groan of reluctance he vaulted upright and proceeded to strip off his suit jacket and his tie.
Passion-glazed eyes widening, Kirsten watched him pull open his shirt to reveal a bronzed and muscular slice of chest. Off came the shirt, to reveal the hard contours of hair-roughened pectorals and the corrugated flatness of his stomach. He was all male, from the satin-smooth strength of his broad shoulders to his narrow waist and long, powerful thighs.
As he shed his well-cut trousers and stood revealed in black boxers she could feel her face starting to burn with hot colour. She wanted to look and she didn’t want to look. The jersey boxers left little to the imagination, and her imagination was already running riot. He peeled them off, and for a split second she stared in apprehension, then quickly shut her eyes tight in mortification. There was too much of him, she thought in a panic. There was no way he was going to fit her, or she was going to fit him.
‘I’m not shy,’ Shahir confided, quite unnecessarily.
‘I know,’ she mumbled, not looking within six feet of him and scrambling below the sheet.
‘But I find your shyness appealing,’ he murmured in a surprised tone of discovery. ‘It’s very sexy.’
‘Oh…’
‘Oh…’ Shahir mocked again, thrusting back the sheet.
Dark eyes slumberous, he leant over her and ran a slow, possessive hand over the silken swell of her breast down over her quivering tummy to the taut line of a lissom thigh. He let his tongue lash a tantalising pink peak and the breath hissed in her throat as she flung her head back, her back arching.
The knot of desire low in her belly twisted tighter. He parted her legs with gentle resolve, explored the silver curls that screened her feminine mound, and traced the slick smooth folds at the heart of her, where she was tender and swollen. She couldn’t stay still. Her hips jerked and shifted on the
bed. The hunger was back with a vengeance, fiercer and stronger than she could stand.
‘Oh…yes,’ Shahir breathed with raw satisfaction against her reddened mouth, and he eased a finger into the hot wet welcome that awaited him.
‘Please…’
‘It’s too soon,’ he husked.
He toyed with her melting body until whimpers of need were torn from her lips and she was writhing beneath the onslaught of an almost agonising tide of pleasure. Only then did he rise over her and plunge his hard male shaft into the sweet, tight depths of her receptive body. She was aching for him, eager—and completely unprepared for the sudden sharp tearing pain that made her cry out.
Abruptly, Shahir stilled. A lean hand turned her face up to his. Burnished golden eyes clashed with hers, his astonishment unhidden. ‘You lied to me? You are a virgin?’ he bit out incredulously.
Hot-faced, Kirsten shut her eyes tight shut and said nothing.
Shahir gazed down at her in disbelief. Never until that moment had he been aware of just how young she was, and never once had it crossed his mind that she might not tell him the truth. ‘Kirsten…’
‘Don’t stop…’ she mumbled, arching up to him in a shamelessly inviting movement that made her face flush with embarrassment. But she couldn’t help it; she really couldn’t. Somewhere down deep inside her there was an unrelenting throb of desire that was driving her crazy, and she knew that only he could satisfy it.
Torn between anger and a desire that was burning at fever-pitch, Shahir hesitated, his powerful muscles straining with the force of the self-discipline he was exerting over his powerful libido. But, on the edge of withdrawal from the sweet allure of her body, he rebelled against all restraint and slammed back into her with a harsh groan of satisfaction.
She cried out in excitement, sensation rippling through her in heady waves as pain became pleasure. He pushed up her knees, to deepen his penetration, and sank into her over and over again. She abandoned herself to a passion that was pagan in its wildness. He took her to the dazzling heights of sensual ecstasy and a climax of shattering intensity.
Lethargic and happy, stunned by her own capacity for physical enjoyment, Kirsten could barely think straight in the aftermath of her first experience of lovemaking. He held her close, kissed her brow.
She got to revel in that glorious intimacy for perhaps sixty seconds before he pulled back from her again.
At a moment when Kirsten was still floating on mental clouds of bliss, Shahir looked down at her, his stunning dark golden eyes cool and intent. ‘Don’t ever lie to me again.’
Wholly unprepared for the dynamic verbal condemnation and warning combined in that one pungent sentence, Kirsten gaped at him.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘YOU don’t have to make such a fuss about it!’ Voicing a spirited defence, Kirsten pulled herself up against the tumbled pillows and hugged the sheet to her bare curves, which suddenly felt sinfully naked and exposed.
‘Do I not?’ Shahir demanded wrathfully, not back tracking a single inch—indeed, seizing the chance to argue the point with the stubborn resolve that was the backbone of his character.
‘No, you don’t.’ Her discomfiture was pronounced. ‘I told a little white lie—’
