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“It is not a fallacy.” She denied hotly, her eyes so wide they were like saucers in her face.
“We shall see,” he murmured disbelievingly. “Go to your bed.”
She did as he said, sitting on the edge of it nervously. Hakim would usually have stretched out foreplay for hours with a new lover. Discovering a woman’s body was one of life’s greatest pleasures, and he enjoyed learning a lover’s needs before taking her completely. But Phoebe’s insistence on lying to him removed his patience for foreplay altogether. There would be time for that later. Next time.
“Lay down.”
She did, flat on her back, staring up at him. A small dart of fear jabbed her side. She ignored it. She wanted Hakim, completely. And even without the lust that was turning her veins into torrents of hot lava, there was the very appealing idea of getting her revenge on the men who had controlled her.
“I am going to take you,” he said unnecessarily, nudging at her entrance with his powerful erection. His handsome face, dark and flushed with passion, hovered just inches
above her.
Phoebe bit down on her lip, wondering if it would be painful. Then again, she had endured much pain in her life, and she no longer feared it.
She was wet and tight as he drove into her, and her body arched at his slow invasion. He reached down and took her breasts back in his hands, strumming her nipples as he inched forward into her. She was so tight, squeezing him hard, that he felt his control slip momentarily.
With a groan, he pushed further, but froze, when he reached an unmistakable barrier. It was dispensed with before he could stop, but it had been there. He swore, angry, nay, furious, with her, for not making him understand.
“Phoebe,” he squeezed his eyes shut, sinking into her fully.
“I was not lying to you,” she groaned, stretching her arms above her head as the sensations overtook her body. He filled her fully now, and the experience was completely over-whelming.
“Not for discussion now,” he replied, his English halting and heavily accented as he began to move more quickly, driving them both to an inevitable climax.
Phoebe exploded first, fast and completely, as the edges of her world shook and came apart, expanding her understanding of reality to incorporate this. This feeling. This sensation. This desire that was totally unexpected and bodily addictive.
Hakim followed her, spilling his royal seed into her body, and with it, the knowledge that he could never let her go. Phoebe Douglas had lured him into bed, and he had gone there willingly. Foolishly, he’d even imagined they might be able to enjoy one another’s bodies for a time, without any consequences. The fervor of passion had faded, now, and he knew that he could not simply sleep with Phoebe and cast her aside. He owed Etienne more than that. Phoebe would become his bride, regardless of whether she wished it or not.
He pushed up onto his elbows, and stared down at her. His face was unknowingly accusing. “You were…”
“Telling the truth?” She panted, breathing still difficult.
He narrowed his eyes. “You could have tried harder to make me believe you.” He propped up on one elbow, so that he could properly read her expression.
Phoebe blinked. “How? What could I have said that would have been as conclusive as that?”
He swallowed past his guilt. She was, after all, right. No words would have made him believe that she was so innocent, completely untouched. After all, the way Etienne spoke of her had led Hakim to believe she was already leading a promiscuous life, in her tender teenage years.
“Just because you had not slept with a man, does not mean you are innocent,” he rejoined quietly.
“No, I suppose you’re right. Though I have no way of proving that to you.”
Hakim furrowed his brow, fighting the temptation to reach down and stroke her hair. It was so fair. Impossibly golden. “You must have had boyfriends.”
Phoebe couldn’t explain the small smile that touched her lips. “If you say so, sir.”
She had hated his insistence on using his title or addressing him formally, but now, it was kind of hot.
“You are so beautiful,” he muttered, still trying to make sense of this information.
“Thank you?” She laughed. “I don’t know what to say, Hakim. I was a virgin, and I can’t think of a better person to have lost it to than you.”
His eyes flashed back to hers. Did he detect a hint of triumph in her voice? Or was he imagining it? “Really?” A cynical drawl. He had the feeling that he was caught on the back foot, and it was not a sensation he relished.
“Really,” she confirmed, her smile lazy and seductive. “You see, Hakim, I have hated Etienne for so long, and hated you by extension. I’ve just never known how to properly get back at either of you.” She lifted her fingers and ran them across his chest. “Until now.”
He was very still as the full meaning of her statement sunk in. “Are you saying you planned this simply as a way to hurt a man who’s been dead for five years?”
