The Star Princess (28 page)

Her body jerked in shock at the sudden, thick intrusion. She burned, but the burn turned quickly to sharp pleasure.

Dragging her upper body off the table, Ché seized her mouth in a breathless, punishing kiss, angling his firm lips to force hers apart with the pressure. He made a deep growl in his throat, his fingers sinking into the skin of her thighs as he ground her against him, ramming deeper each time, his breaths harsh, Ilana clutched at his shoulders, riding the tidal wave that was her response to him. She was ready; hell, she was more than ready, but he'd surprised her. She hadn't thought he'd do it; hadn't thought he'd take her like this. Where was the Vash Nadah finesse she'd heard so much about?

The comm in his jeans pocket started chiming again. They froze. It was his family, she thought.

"Ah— Great Mother… " Gasping, he held fast to her upper arms. So many emotions flickered in his face. And then, when he opened his eyes, the Ché she'd come to know was back.

"No," he said. His expression was gentler now, almost regretful. "Not this way, Ilana. Not with us, love."

Love. Relief pierced her.

And then he withdrew from her, his entire body shuddering as he pulled out. Still rigid, his sex sagged damp and heavy against her belly. She throbbed inside where he had been.

It had cost him, that retreat. His voice was so rough that he almost whispered. "May I… try again?"

She swallowed, nodding, too emotionally unsettled to reply. But he must have seen what he'd needed to in her eyes, because he lowered his head and kissed her— a tender, loving caress. She wrapped her arms over his shoulders and kissed him back, tears pressing behind her eyes, her throat aching from emotion.

He scooped her off the table, supporting her weight in his muscled arms. She kept her own wrapped tightly around his neck as he carried her into the bedroom they hadn't yet seen. It was cool and shaded, smelling of lavender and freshly laundered sheets. A thick red and gold comforter lay over the bed, folded back partway to reveal lavish red satin sheets.

Almost tenderly, Ché laid her on her back on the sinfully plush bed. Foil-wrapped chocolates were scattered, ignored.

They stripped off the rest of their clothes, rolling over the big, soft feather bed, savoring the feel of warm bare skin and cool satin sheets. Passion rose, but Ché took time to move his hands and lips over

Ilana's breasts, her throat, her face, as if he wanted to memorize her, the kind of caresses that should have preceded their initial attempt at lovemaking but hadn't.

He'd said he wanted to start from scratch. If he was willing, then so was she.

Chapter Eighteen

Only after Ilana was breathless from their foreplay, nearly begging him to take her, did Ché seek to complete the act. He rolled her beneath him so he could better watch her sweet face as he made love to her.

Her eyes closed. "Look at me," he whispered. "Ilana… "

Her lovely eyes opened. At first, desire glazed them, but she blinked, focusing on his face, poised so close to hers. And then those eyes became so clear and blue that looking into them made Che's chest tighten with emotions he couldn't name, because he had no experience with anything so intense.

Propping his weight on his elbows, he lifted his hips. Ilana's hands rested lightly on his shoulders. When he pressed at her opening, she raised her hips to meet him. With a swift inhalation, watching her face contort with the pleasure only he could give her, he pushed deep inside her body. This was no feverish plunge; he savored every contour of her wet inner walls, every contraction of her muscles. He kept up the slow, steady, erotic push until he was sure it would kill him unless he let loose and thrust into her. But he called on every ounce of discipline he had, finally reaping the reward for his patience when she sheathed him fully, gloriously. There, he held himself still, his breaths uneven as he watched her. Her eyelids lowered as she tipped her head back and moaned. She would lose herself in the pleasure unless he called her back.

"Ilana," he whispered sharply. Her eyes flew open. "I want you here with me." He needed her with him.

She nodded, and then her breath hitched as he began to move inside her. She lifted her knees, pressing them to his swaying hips to hold him close. He held her face in his hands, gazing down at her as she looked up at him, their eyes locked.

Take me. To Ilana, he gave more than his body and years of experience, far more. He began to sweat, his loins clenching with the heavy, potent pleasure-pain he knew preceded release. He gritted his teeth, his breaths hissing, wanting first to open himself to her, to let her see inside him as he devoted his entire being to this exquisite, strangely poignant lovemaking, giving her what he'd never given any other, gifting her with what he knew in his heart he would never bestow on anyone else, no matter what the ancient laws of his people demanded he do.

Always before, he'd sought the goal of maximum physical release. But this time it was different. This time he wanted the woman he was with to hold him close. He craved that connection, a taut thread between them that seemed to rise above the joy of physical sex, turning it into something far more transcendent.

Groaning, he fought to hold off the explosion he knew was coming. But with each one of his fierce, reckless strokes, Ilana's body responded, clutching him, her inner muscles convulsing wetly. She cried out then, a throaty plea.

His reaction to her coming peak overwhelmed him. His lower belly tightened; exquisite, excruciating heat clutched at his loins. Frenzied, he squeezed the muscles in his buttocks to hold back, just a few moments more. Where was his self-control?

But to his mortification, he knew he'd have to go completely still if he wanted to last. "Ah, Ilana," he said sorrowfully on a ragged breath, lowering his head to her throat. To his shock, Ilana arched her back, climaxing almost immediately, her nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders.

That was all it took. He could hold back no longer. His acute embarrassment went up in a blaze of pleasure the likes of which he'd never known. He pushed up on rigid arms, his back arching. One, two jerks of his buttocks and he exploded deep inside her. He had no more power to hold back on his release than he did to stop his heart.

He collapsed on top of her. Somehow he managed to support his dead weight with his elbows and knees. She felt just as limp. Murmuring to her in Eireyan— it was the only way he knew to express his shock and pleasure at what he'd discovered in her arms— he kissed and stroked and nuzzled her, holding her close until her spent body and his stopped quivering.

"I guess I couldn't wait," he heard her say after a long while.

"Hmm?" He lifted his head. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and her lips were puffy. Damp curls framed her face. Her eyes were so blue that it almost hurt to gaze directly into them.

"Nor could I," he said. Great Mother, it pained him to say it. "Heaven knows I tried. I am embarrassed, Ilana."

"No, you're not," she scolded. She smiled up at him, a soft, wondering smile, and combed her fingers through his damp hair. "You're incredible."

His chest tightened, and an odd feeling of lightness swept through him. "As are you, my sweet Earth girl." Their mouths came together in a kiss. It was wet, deep, languorous…

… and it went on, it seemed, for hours, that kiss, Ilana thought.

It didn't take much for the heat between them to build from simmering to a slow boil. "That was but the first orgasm," he promised, rolling her atop him.

"But the first?" She laughed. "Okay. I'm game."

His hands stroked up and down her back. "Now I will give you another, and it will be far better."

Ilana smiled at his utter confidence, a smile she knew faded when he lifted her over him and plunged deep inside her. She threw her head back and gasped. Each roll of his hips sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through her.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. His body heat radiated his scent, musky and male. She clutched his broad shoulders, her breath hissing. He was an athletic lover, tireless, but it was his tenderness that made her ache with longing. More than wanting him, she needed him.

It scared her to death. But the fear felt conquerable this time, as her fear of flying did the minute that little airplane rolled onto the runway.

They tumbled across the big feather bed. Ché pinned her beneath him, pressing her into the soft, red sheets. Lifting one of her legs high over his back, he rocked his hips, gradually deepening his strokes, "Ilana… my sweet," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. His English melted into a language she didn't know. Eireyan? It was a lyrical and sexy litany of words. While she had no clue what he said, the eroticism of his tone wasn't lost on her.

"Feel me," he whispered harshly. "Feel me as I love you." Stroking her hair back with his palm, he watched her face as he had before. In its incredible intimacy, the gesture rivaled the powerfully erotic way he moved inside her.

This is what it's supposed to be like, she thought dazedly. This was why her mother had remarried, and why Ian couldn't wait to make Tee'ah his wife. This was why people fell in love and took a gamble on spending a lifetime together. No, not only for the sex. For this exchange of feelings, to be able to open oneself to another.

Trust, reciprocated.

She pulled him down to her, whispered breathlessly in his ear. "Do you know what Linda once told me? That if I ever opened up, if I ever let a man inside this stubborn, smart-ass head of mine, I might be surprised and like it."

He lifted his head. As he gazed down at her, his lashes only partly shielded the satisfaction glowing in his gold eyes. "And do you?"

She laughed softly, disbelievingly. "Yeah."

Taking full breaths became a lost cause as he brought her closer and closer to the second peak he'd promised. And when that climax and then a surprise third shattered Ilana, her personal epiphany and searing pleasure was only intensified by Che's powerful, almost violent release.

After a long afternoon and evening making love and napping, Ilana woke, sated and drowsy, tucked into and spooned by Che's body. He'd fallen asleep holding her. He'd insisted on it, in fact; all but demanding that she stay next to him.

She didn't mind. Maybe she'd wanted the closeness as much as he did. It wasn't just physical; it was something else. Something more.

She'd never been a fan of cuddling after sex, let alone actually spending the night with someone. But with Ché, the compulsion to distance herself hadn't kicked in. It felt natural, wanting to cuddle close to him. It felt good, and right somehow.

Or was she overanalyzing everything, as usual?

Smiling at herself and her racing thoughts, she made herself relax. Judging by the sound of Che's slow, even breaths, he was still sleeping. Carefully she turned in his arms to face him. But he came half awake and drew her to his chest. "Stay with me," he murmured into her messy hair.

"I will," she whispered back, and wondered if in reality she'd promised more than what those few words would indicate.

You're thinking too hard, Ilana.

Right, she thought.

First she turned off her brain, and that was hard. Her body soon followed in relaxation. Finally, lulled by the sound of Che's heart beating, she fell back asleep.

When she woke again, Ché was up. He walked out of the bathroom, naked, scrubbing a towel over his hair. It stood up in short spikes all over his head. She came up on her elbows. "Hey, lover boy."

His mouth tipped in that crooked smile he gave no one else but her. "Blue-eyes," he said with affection.

"Blue-eyes?" Her breasts bounced as she rolled onto her belly. She ached all over, but she wasn't about to complain.

He nodded, smiling. "Or I can call you luscious bottom."

"Luscious bottom!" She supposed it beat fat cheeks. "I had no idea the word luscious was in your vocabulary."

It was clear Ché was trying hard not to smile. "I looked it up one day when I was feeling particularly… inspired."

"I knew those shorts were too tight," she muttered.

His gaze traveled down to her bare butt, lingering there. "Choose whichever endearment you prefer. Now is the time to state your preference, lest I become too used to one or the other."

"I'll take blue-eyes in public." She winked. "Luscious in private."

Lounging on her stomach, she hugged her arms to her chest. The swell of her breasts peeked over her forearms as she watched him dry off. His Greek-god physique was the result of discipline, exercise, and, yeah, genetics. On a superficial level, his appearance attracted her, fascinated her, and made her blood run hot. But the man inside that body was what drew her to him more than anything.

To his people, he was a peacemaker, an open-minded leader who just happened to be from the most conservative of families. A prince wise beyond his years. She'd witnessed all that when his unexpected public support of Ian— at the cost of his brother Klark's disgrace— did more to keep the Federation stable and intact than any other action could have.

But to her, Ché Vedla was fun, patient, easy to talk to, generous, intelligent, and heroic. More impor-tantly, she admired, and respected him. Deep down, she'd always known that she'd never be able to love a man for whom she felt neither of those things. "So. How long have you been up?"

"A half of one of your hours, no more. I ordered room service."

"You know how to do that?"

He gave her a dry look. "It is not that difficult."

Ché dropped his towel into a hamper and reached for a robe hanging on a hook on the bathroom door. That was when she noticed his tattoo, on the very lowest part of his flat abdomen, just above his groin. She pushed off the bed. "Ah, there it is. The famous tattoo. I want to take a better look. The last time I was close enough to see it… ah, my attention was focused a little lower."

His heated gaze told her that he hadn't forgotten the feel of her mouth. "Indeed."

She bent down to study the tattoo. It was small and finely made, crisper in detail than Earth tattoos, a gold, gray, and black bird, depicted head-on with spread wings.