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Tariq felt his resistance trickling away. Nobody could say he hadn’t tried—but it seemed that Izzy was intent on fighting him every inch of the way. Maybe this was the only solution to the otherwise unendurable prospect of the two of them dancing around each other every day, aching with frustrated need. And wasn’t there something about making love to her which appealed to him on a very fundamental level? Something which he had never done with any other woman …
‘For the hell of it? I think you’re selling yourself short. Why don’t we try a taste of heaven instead?’ he said, and he pulled her into his arms and let his mouth make a slow motion journey to meet hers.
She actually cried out with pleasure out as he began to kiss her, the taste and feel of his mouth seeming gloriously familiar. Gripping his shoulders, she dug her fingers into his suit jacket, afraid that her knees might give way if she didn’t have something to cling onto. And as the kiss grew deeper she could feel the hard jut of his hips, which framed the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. Recklessly she pressed her body closer still, making no protest when he began to ruck her skirt up, urging him on with a guttural little sound of hunger which didn’t sound a bit like her.
‘Damn tights,’ he ground out as his fingers met the least erotic piece of clothing ever designed by man. But he could feel the heat searing through them at the apex of her thighs, and the restless circling of her hips as he touched her there.
With practised ease he yanked them down, slithering them over her knees to her ankles. He knelt to slide off first one shoe and then the other—tossing them aside with the tights, so that they lay discarded. And then he rose again to take her in his arms.
Maybe he should have carried her across to one of the plush sofas which comprised the more casual meeting area of his office. Stripped her off slowly and provocatively as she doubtlessly deserved. But for the first time in his life Tariq couldn’t bear the thought of delaying this
for a second longer than was necessary. Her wide eyes and quickened breath were doing something inexplicable to him. He felt unaccountably primitive … as if his desire to possess her was urging him along on a dark and unstoppable tide.
He touched her against her panties, heard her make some yelping little sound of pleasure and frustration as he ripped them apart. Then he unzipped himself with a shaking hand, freeing the leaden spring of his erection with a ragged sigh of relief.
She was wet and ready for him, clinging to him eagerly as he thrust into her—hard and deep and without warning. Yet it still came as a shock as he encountered a momentary resistance, and he stilled as he heard her make a little moan of discomfort.
‘Aludra!’ he choked out, stopping inside her to give her the chance to acclimatise herself to these new sensations. Holding her close, he bent his lips to her ear. ‘Did I hurt you, little Izzy?’
She shook her head. ‘If you did, then I’ve forgotten. Please don’t stop,’ she whispered back, giving a little yelp of pleasure as he began to move inside her. ‘It feels …’ She closed her eyes and expelled a shuddering breath. ‘Oh, Tariq, it feels … incredible.’
It felt pretty incredible for him, too. Especially when she wrapped her legs around his back with athletic skill. But it was more than that. He’d never done it like this before. Had never felt this free. This powerful. Was that because it was Izzy? A woman who knew him better than any other woman? Didn’t that add an extra piquant layer of desire? Or was it because there was no infernal covering of thin rubber between them? He could feel the soft squash of her buttocks as he cupped them, and the deep molten tightness of her body as it welcomed him. He could hear her soft exclamations of pleasure and astonishment, and that too reminded him of the reality.
She’s never done this with anyone else.
That possessive thought only sharpened his hunger, and he shuddered with pleasure as he drove deeper and deeper inside her. He spoke to her in half-forgotten words of Khayarzahian as they moved in ancient rhythm, until he heard her make a helpless little cry and felt her begin to convulse around him.
She gasped his name and clutched at his shoulders like a woman who was drowning, and then at last he let go. And it was like nothing he’d ever experienced. One sweet and erotic spasm after another racked through him, until he felt as if he’d been wrung out and left to dry. Her head fell against his shoulder and he could feel the quiver of her unsteady breath as she panted against his neck. Her legs slipped down from his waist and he wrapped his arms around hers and held her very close.
He didn’t know how long they stayed like that—just that it seemed like warm and satiated bliss. As if they were in their own private and very erotic bubble. Until he felt himself begin to harden again inside her and knew that he had to move.
Reluctantly he withdrew from her, tilting her face upwards with his hand. Her cheeks were flushed, and some of the Titian corkscrew curls had come loose and were falling untidily around her shoulders. She looked as wanton as any woman could—and light-years away from the woman who had placed a cup of coffee in front of him not long ago.
He felt … dazed. And for the first time in his life slightly bewildered. That had been incredible. And yet slightly perturbing too, for he could never remember being so out of control before.
Pushing away any remaining doubts, he brushed a dancing corkscrew strand away from her lips, recognising that a latent sense of guilt would serve no useful purpose. ‘Well, I don’t remember that being in your job description,’ he murmured.
Isobel took her lead from him. She was obviously supposed to keep it light. Her lips curved into a coquettish smile she’d never used before. ‘And did I perform the task to your satisfaction … sir?’
Softly, he laughed. ‘Well, there’ll need to be a repeat session, of course. I can’t possibly judge after just one performance.’
Performance? The word cut through her heightened senses and Isobel bit her lip, suddenly feeling way out of her depth. ‘And was I … ?’
‘You were amazing,’ he reassured her softly. ‘In fact you were more than amazing.’
He stared down into her face as if he was seeing it for the first time—though this was the face that greeted him each day. This was Izzy—who told him the truth when he asked her. And sometimes when he didn’t ask her. Would sex destroy some of the unique rapport which existed between them? he wondered, as even more questions began to flood into his mind.
‘Let’s go and sit down,’ he said abruptly.
Tugging her skirt back over her naked hips, he led her over to one of the low sofas on the far side of the office. Gently, he pushed her down on it, then slid next to her, his black eyes narrowed and questioning.
‘So why?’ he queried softly.
She guessed she could have pretended to misunderstand him, but she knew exactly what he meant. And that was the trouble—she knew Tariq far too well to play games with him. ‘Why am I a virgin, you mean?’
‘Wrong tense,’ he corrected acidly.
Slightly flustered, she looked at him, seeking refuge in flippancy. ‘Because you make me work such long hours that I hardly ever have the opportunity to meet any other men?’
