The Sheik and the Virgin Princess (23 page)

“Don’t look at me like that,” he told her in a low voice.

“Like what?”

“Like I could save the world.”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking that at all.” She rose to her feet. “I was thinking maybe we could play dangerous sheik and the harem girl. After all, except for my relatives, you’re the only sheik I’ve ever met. I’ll probably never get another chance.”

His jaw tightened. She watched him struggle between conscience and need. She couldn’t believe that this wonderful, amazing, powerful man actually wanted her. Still, she wasn’t stupid enough to question her good fortune.

“This can’t mean anything,” he said at last, taking a single step toward her.

She couldn’t help smiling. “Of course not.”

“I mean it, Zara. I’m not interested in engaging my heart. Don’t try to make this more than it is.”

He continued to move toward her, stopping only when he was close enough to pull her against him.

He was hard and hot and she wanted him with an intensity she’d never felt before.

“No hearts,” she promised. “Just cheap, casual meaningless sex.”

Rafe’s mouth came down on hers with a kiss that left Zara breathless. Everywhere they touched—especially their mouths—she felt a connection as powerful as the will to live. She needed him, needed his arms around her, his heart thundering with the same rhythm as her own. She clung to him as he swept his tongue across her lower lip. Even as she parted to admit him, she clutched the back of his head with one hand, determined to never let him go.

Fire ripped through her as he stroked her tongue with his. Fire and wanting and passion. Her breasts grew more sensitive, her thighs ached. Each breath was exquisite in its perfection, each sensation, each sound. It was as if she’d never lived before this moment.

He broke the kiss and stared into her eyes. His were blue flames of sexual heat that made her giddy.

“What about dinner?” he asked. “We never even got to our salads.”

She blinked. “Salad? You want to talk about salad?”

He chuckled. “No. I don’t even want to talk about salad dressing.”

Then, without warning, he swept her up in his arms and walked into the house.

Zara shrieked as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt vulnerable, as if he could drop her at any second—which he could.

“Relax,” he said. “It’s your first time. I thought I’d give you the whole treatment—you know, carrying you to the bedroom and all that. When some other guy asks about it, I don’t want you to have any complaints.”

She knew he was both teasing and telling the truth. She didn’t want to think about being with any other guy, and thinking about what he was doing and how sweet his actions were brought tears to her eyes.

She blinked them away and focused on the strength in him. When they reached the bedroom—hers, she noticed—he lowered her to the floor.

“Don’t move,” he said, and lightly touched the tip of her nose.

He disappeared, but returned before she could panic. When he set a small box on her nightstand, she glanced to see what it was, then had to swallow.

Condoms.

On the one hand she appreciated his concern for her well-being, not to mention the whole birth control thing. On the other hand, were they really going to do it? Now? For real? After all this time was she going to get what all the fuss was about?

She cleared her throat. “I have a few questions,” she said.

He grinned. “I figured you might. Ask away.”

“You won’t mind?”

“No. I’ll answer whatever I can.” She couldn’t imagine him not knowing everything. She pointed to the box of protection. “Do they work?”

“When used correctly. And yes, I know how.”

“When do you put it on?”

“Right before I enter you.”

Entering. She’d considered that in the past. She knew what happened between a man and a woman and even knew where everything went. But she’d never been able to figure out how to do it without everyone feeling awkward. They made it look smooth in the movies, but then they were allowed extra takes to get it right.

The sun had set a few minutes before, and the room darkened to twilight. Soon she wouldn’t be able to see anything.

“Can we have a light on?” she asked.

“Absolutely.” He bent over and clicked on her bedside lamp. “Anything else?”

She had about four million questions, but this didn’t seem to be the time. Except for one.

She averted her gaze. “I, ah, was wondering about the whole, you know.” She made a vague gesture with her hands.

Rafe stepped close and touched a finger to her chin. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

Heat burned on her cheeks. She couldn’t look at his face, instead staring at the center of his chest. “The, ah, end part. Where it’s supposed to feel really good.”

“Climaxing?”

She ducked her head. “Yes.” The word was barely a whisper. “I haven’t.”

“Ever?”

She shook her head.

She felt Rafe stiffen. “Does that change things?” she asked. “Is it too much responsibility? Because if you don’t want to…” Her voice trailed off. If he refused her, she was going to be heartbroken.

He cupped her face and kissed her softly. “Zara, I want to make love with you more than I’ve wanted to be with any other woman. And unless you have any more questions, I’m about to prove it to you.”

“I’d like that.”

Her words sounded brave, but she was suddenly immobilized by nerves. What did he expect from her? Should she make it more clear that she was clueless? It was humiliating to be her age and so incredibly inept.

Before she could speak, Rafe leaned close. He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her jaw. From there he trailed kisses down her neck. Shivers followed his light caresses, making her tremble slightly. She rested her hands on his shoulders, as much to touch him as for support.

They’d done this before. She caught her breath in anticipation as he unbuttoned her gauzy sundress. In a moment of boldness she’d never given in to before, she hadn’t bothered with a bra, so when he finished unfastening the buttons and pushed her dress down her arms, he bared her to the waist.

“Perfect,” he breathed as one hand closed over one breast and his mouth settled on the other.

She gave a small cry as his tongue teased her tight nipple. Sensation shot through her, zipping to her toes, then returning to settle in that place between her thighs. His fingers mirrored his moist touch, teasing her, making her arch toward him, her head falling back, her mouth parted as she gasped for air. When he drew her into his mouth and sucked deeply, she knew she was going to die.

Rafe’s other hand moved up and down her back. He must have done something because her dress suddenly fell to the floor. She wore only bikini panties. Even as he continued to pleasure her breasts, he moved his hand lower, over her hips, down to her rear. He cupped the curves there, digging his fingers into her flesh, drawing her against him.

She wanted this. She wanted more.

He raised his head and kissed her mouth. His fingers tugged her panties, drawing them down. She tried not to notice that she was about to be naked, while he was still fully dressed. Then when it was impossible not to notice, she tried not to mind.

Rafe kicked off his sandals and pulled off his shirt. Zara stood there, in front of him. Naked. Just plain naked. She was about to change her mind about the whole sex thing, when he led her to the bed and motioned for her to settle onto the mattress.

It was certainly farther than she’d ever gone before, she thought, hoping humor would ease her growing nervousness. What if she did it wrong? What if he didn’t like being with her? What if—

“Stop thinking,” he instructed. “I can hear your brain churning from here. Relax. Just relax.”

He followed his instructions with a slow, deep kiss that left her breathless. They danced together, their tongues circling, stroking. Some of her tension eased.

He moved his hand to her breasts, touching one and then the other. The combination of kissing and breast touching was heady stuff. When his hand moved lower, she never thought to complain.

“Has any man touched you here in a way you liked?” he asked, trailing his fingers lower down her stomach.

“No.”

Rafe kissed her earlobe, then bit gently. “I need you to tell me what feels good,” he whispered.

“But how will I know?”

He chuckled. “You’ll know.” She doubted that very much. She was the one lacking experience. Why on earth would he expect her to give decent instructions? This was never going to work.

He moved lower still. As he slipped his fingers between her thighs, her legs parted. She didn’t remember telling them to do that, but they did. She was about to push them back together when she felt something delicious and amazing.

He stroked her so gently, she thought, barely able to stay conscious and aware of what was happening. It was a lazy exploration, as if they had all the time in the world. She could tell she was already slick by the way his fingers moved easily. He touched all of her—that place where he would enter her later, although it still sounded awkward to her, the protective folds, the damp curls. He pressed in a little, as if searching for something. As if—

She gasped as a bolt of lightning exploded inside of her.

“I would say that’s it,” he murmured and shifted so he was kissing her again.

It? What it?

Zara struggled to figure out what was going on, but it was all too amazing. The more he moved his fingers against her, the more the lightning explosions continued. Her legs fell open more. She wanted to beg him to never stop. She wanted to offer herself as his slave forever. She wished she had state secrets to spill. Anything to keep him touching her.

She knew enough about biology to realize there were nerve endings down there all bundled together with the seemingly sole purpose of bringing her pleasure. She’d just always assumed that part of her body was broken. What a thrill to find out it was alive and functioning extremely well.

How perfectly he touched her. Over and around. Moving evenly, never pressing too hard. His ministrations quickened slightly and she felt herself tensing.

When he broke the kiss to move to her breasts, she caught her breath in anticipation. His touch there had been amazing before, but in combination, it would be exquisite. She had a brief thought that he’d asked about instructions. No way would she be able to speak. Not when he was about to—

She screamed.

His lips came down on her tight nipple, his tongue teased her flesh, then he sucked. It was too much. Deep in her body tension spiraled to the point where she knew she couldn’t stand it anymore. Then heat filled her and a hundred thousand tiny convulsions swept through her. She felt transfixed and transformed. She felt perfect and whole. She lost herself in the wonder of her body’s ability to experience pleasure.

Rafe’s fingers slowed, then moved to her thigh. He lightly kissed her lips. She forced herself to open her eyes and gaze at him. He had a very self-satisfied expression on his face.

“Wow,” she said.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So that was what it was like.”

“Uh-huh. Although some women take a lot longer.”

“That was quick?”

He grinned. “About three minutes. Definitely quick.”

She had a feeling he didn’t think that was a bad thing. “I had a lot of sex to make up for.”

“Apparently. Ready for round two?”

She nodded.

He hesitated. “We don’t have to go all the way. You could still stay a virgin.”

She shoved him toward the edge of the bed. Or at least she tried to—the man didn’t budge. “I don’t want to be a virgin anymore. I told you. It’s complicated at my age. Come on, Rafe. You can’t refuse me now.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

Just being one of the good guys, she thought, as he sat up and unfastened his trousers. He slipped them and his briefs off before stretching out next to her.

She knew it was rude to stare, but she hadn’t seen an actual, well, it, before. She’d touched a couple, but only in the dark.

“You’d see better if you sat up,” he said, as if he could read her mind.

She was too curious to be embarrassed. Instead she took his advice and shifted into a sitting position.

Blond hair lightly covered his chest. It thickened at his belly, forming a line that bisected his rippled abdomen. She glanced at the impressive muscles there and made a mental note to start doing sit-ups.

Two scars, one more round than the other, stood out on his skin. She started to ask how he’d been hurt, but figured this wasn’t the best time. Then her gaze moved lower to the darker blond hair at the base of his erection.

“I don’t have a frame of reference,” she said. “Is it big?”

“Huge.”

“I’d like to touch you.”

“Feel free.”

She put her hand on him. He was warm and dry, with velvet-soft skin stretched over pulsing steel.