slick body moved against him like a hungry little kitten.
He groaned and pulled away, his accent was thick. ‘Damn you, sorciére. I won’t take you here on the floor.’
And then he was walking, striding through the suite and into a darkened bedroom, where he lowered her to the bed. The sheets were cool against Nat’s feverish skin, and it only got more feverish when she watched Salim step back, kick off his shoes and start to undo his shirt, never taking his eyes off her.
Nat wasn’t even concerned that her dress was gaping open and that one breast was bared. She was too meserised by the stunning power and beauty of the body being revealed to her. Every muscle was clearly delineated, honed, but not pretty. It was as if he was carved out of rock.
The shirt dropped to the floor, his hands came to his trousers and Nat gulped. The belt slid free, and when she saw the slightest tremor in his hand as he lowered his zip, she looked up.
Salim’s hand stopped. ‘Viens ici.’
Nat understood French. She wondered if he even knew he was speaking it? She stood up, wobbly, and went towards him.
He said, ‘You do it.’
She looked down to see the zip half undone, and a large bulge. Mouth dry, she reached out and took it, her knuckles brushing against the hot thrust of his arousal. His breath hissed. As she pulled the zip down, over that bulge, Salim’s hand cupped her bare breast, a thumb rubbing back and forth over her sensitised nipple.
Nat’s legs amost gave way. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop calling out. The zip was down and Salim took his hand off her breast to push his trousers down, kicking them off impatiently. Now he wore only his underwear, which did little to hide how big or aroused he was.
‘Je veux—’ he stopped and cursed, ‘I want to see you.’
Nat looked up, and emboldened by the heat in his gaze, she let her dress fall down over her arms and to the floor. So now she stood in just her bra and panties. Salim’s gaze devoured her.
‘Si belle.’ So beautiful.
Nat ducked her head. Embarrassed. Salim tipped up her chin and one brow was arched. ‘What? You don’t know how beautiful you are? You are a woman, Natalja, who has lived and loved.’ He shook his head, ‘You’ve seen things…been braver than most people ever are.’
Nat felt meserised. Cocooned in this spiraling hot tension between them. She shook her head and whispered, ‘I wasn’t brave…it was a form of escape too, not dealing with things. And I’ve loved, yes, but not a man, a lover…’
Not someone like you, she just stopped herself from saying, realising in that moment that she’d always avoided that ultimate sacrifice of her heart for fear that she would be left, abandoned again. And suddenly, she realised that already this man had the power to hurt her.
Before that revelation could suck her under completely, Nat said huskily, ‘Kiss me Salim.’
‘With pleasure,’ he growled softly before drawing her into him and lowering his head to hers. The flimsy barriers of their clothes almost melted off their bodies. Nat was only aware her bra was gone because Salim was cupping both breasts as they kissed, fingers pinching her nipples to stinging points.
She was arched into him, tongues tangling, hands under his briefs, kneading the smooth taut muscles of his backside, the thrust of his arousal against her soft belly. She pushed his briefs down and felt that stiff column of flesh against her, skin to skin.
Drawing back, she looked down and a wave of heat pulsed through her to see him revealed. He was magnificent. A bead of moisture anointed the head and Nat touched it with her thumb, before looking up at Salim and bringing her thumb to her mouth and tasting his essence.
Salim looked tortured. ‘Dieu, I want you. Now.’
Nat felt heady with her power in that moment. That this huge awe inspiring man should be so hot for her. Salim took her hand and led her to the bed, drawing her down with him.
There were no barriers between them now, and Nat tangled her limbs with his, arms wrapped tight around him. His hands seemed to be everywhere, cupping and squeezing her bottom, covering her breast and reaching down to between her legs, finding that slick spot and making her moan and squirm as he circled and explored, taking her higher and higher.
In the haze of heat she barely heard the sound of a foil wrapper, or noticed that he left her for a second to put on protection. She was incoherent with need, a fine mist of perspiration covering her entire body.
He was behind her, gathering her into him, pulling one leg over his thigh, his arm holding her against him, tight. And then he was there, thrusting up and into her, so deep that she cried out.
He moved slowly then, giving her time to adjust, but there was no discomfort, only a feeling of intense union and completion, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She turned her head to find Salim’s mouth already searching for her, his hand cupping her face, holding her close, while his body moved in and out of hers with relentless precision.
Nat was lost, and yet profoundly rooted, mouth clinging to Salim’s, breaths feverish as their tongues mimicked the movement of their bodies. And then he moved his hand down, over her breasts and belly, to between her legs, fingers finding the centre of all her nerve endings, so close to where he was thrusting faster now, deeper.
He took his mouth from hers. Nat opened her eyes and saw only him. ‘Viens avec moi, Natalja.’
Come with me.
And as if her body had no choice but to respond, she did. In a twisting breaking free of that tight band of tension. She stopped breathing as her body soared so high she feared she might never come back. And then she did, crashing back to earth in a million shattered but glorious pieces, her body clamping tightly around Salim’s as he breathed out the shuddering aftermath of his own release.
When Salim woke he was aware of a sense of panic even as his hand went out and found the bed beside him empty. The fact that this was a wholly new sensation after sleeping with a lover was not welcome.
He opened his eyes. She was gone. Not there. The panic rose higher. Merde. He felt weakened by the incredible sex, unable to gather his strength to move for a second.
He closed his eyes as a memory assailed him—the tight sheath of Nat’s body clamping around his, drawing the longest most intense climax he’d ever experienced out of him.
They’d lain there for a long moment, stunned by the depth of their release. And then Salim had extricated himself and dealt with the protection. When he’d come back, Nat had been curled up on her side, asleep, and he’d wrapped himself around her as if it was the most normal thing in the world. When it was anything but.
Cursing again, he got up, that panic intensifying. He prowled into the living area and his heart stopped and started again when he saw the terrace doors open to the balcony outside and a slim robed figure looking out over the view as the first pink light of dawn broke over London.
Not liking the sense of relief
