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CHAPTER SEVEN
HELOVEDITthat she had tried.
‘It looked easy when I was watching the dancers,’ Maggie said as he came over.
‘It just takes practice,’ he told her. He came up behind her and placed both hands on her hips. ‘Like this.’
‘Like what?’ Maggie asked, fighting the urge to lean back on him.
‘Stay centred.’
That was terribly easy to say when there wasn’t six foot three of sheikh right behind you and holding you extremely low on your hips.
‘Now push my right hand away,’ he told her.
She tried.
And failed.
‘First drop your thigh,’ he told her, ‘and then push up.’
His palm on her hip bone seared the top of her thigh but somehow Maggie followed his instruction.
‘Now my left.’
It was clumsy and nothing like it should be, yet she shifted to the rhythm and Ilyas moved further in so that his face came next to hers.
Now his hand moved to her stomach.Tell him to stop, Maggie thought, because she could not even pretend she was dancing as she fought not to lean back.
‘Like this,’ Ilyas said, and ground her hips in a circular motion by pressing her back into his pelvis.
Her back was pushing hard against him and she fought to keep her bottom from doing the same.
‘Like this,’ he told her, and she gave up fighting and even vaguely pretending it was a dance lesson.
And so too did he.
Ilyas lifted her hair and he breathed in her scent, and then his head lowered to her neck and he kissed her pale skin.
The touch of his mouth was soft, yet it shot volts through Maggie that had her neck arch to the side.
His kiss deepened and his tongue was probing on a sensitive area; an involuntary moan escaped from her lips.
Finally, Ilyas pulled her tight in to him.
She could feel his arousal as he swayed her hips but it was far more intimate than a dance.
Her thigh jerked, albeit involuntarily, yet it was the most sensual move she could have made for the reward was Ilyas’s return motion.
His breath was ragged and his sensual movements were deliberate; Maggie fought an internal battle to remain standing. If she gave in, she knew she would simply fold over.
‘Ilyas,’ she breathed, for his kiss was deeper now and moving down from her neck to her shoulder, and his hand pulled the fabric of her robe down her arm.
Still, his other hand remained low on her stomach. His touch was warm and her reaction was scorching.
They moved sensually, his hand now sliding the strap of her slip down so that her breast was exposed. His fingers were firm and a little rough on her sensitive flesh as his mouth worked like a heated balm on her shoulder.
Her thighs were shaking and pressed hard into him so she could steady herself, but it served only to inflame.
