Excitement built again when she felt his erection straining between them. Her body was moving instinctively against his, seeking friction. Seeking more.
He expertly manoeuvred her body so that she was sitting up again, poised over him. He held himself in his hand, the head nudging
the entrance to her very core. She couldn’t breathe. It was as if her body wept with the need to feel him inside her.
She let herself sink onto him slowly as he took his hand away and gripped her hip. He was big. She sucked in a breath but he lay still, letting her dictate the pace as she allowed her body to absorb all that heat and strength.
She held her breath as momentary discomfort made itself felt.
His hands tightened on her hips. ‘Are you...?’
She focused on him, her vision blurred by all the sensations coursing through her body. What was he asking? If she was a—
She shook her head. ‘No, I’m not.’
But she’d only had sex once before, and she wasn’t even sure if the experience counted, because it had felt nothing like this.
The discomfort had become something else—something much sharper and more pleasurable. Liyah started to move up and down slowly, letting her body get used to his.
They were both breathing heavily now, and Liyah felt sweat sheening her skin. Her movements became faster, and he held her hips lightly, but she could feel the need in him to hold her so that he could take control.
She felt infinitely powerful in that moment. But then her own frustration grew because she couldn’t find the perfect rhythm that her body craved.
In a split second he’d manoeuvred them so that she was on her back and he looked down at her, his body still deeply embedded in hers.
He pulled out and her every muscle tensed, waiting for the delicious slide of his body into hers again, but he stopped.
Hoping she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt, Liyah said, ‘Is something wrong?’
He pulled out fully and her body protested.
‘Protection. I have no protection here.’
Liyah didn’t understand for a second, and then she did. Relief flowed through her. ‘It’s okay. I’m on the pill.’
Sharif looked at the woman under him. Her wild hair was spread around her head. Her skin was flushed dark red, her eyes like bright green jewels. Lips plump.
The effort it had taken him to pull free from the clasp of her body made him shake. No woman—ever—had had this effect on him. Sex for him was usually a transitory physical satisfaction. Like scratching an itch. He’d always derived more pleasure out of the chase and the conquest than the actual act. He’d always been able to hold himself slightly aloof...
But here—now—that ability to remain aloof was incinerated. He’d almost forgotten his own rule. Never sleep with a woman without protection—because he had no intention of revisiting the sins of his father on an innocent child.
In another instant, with another woman, Sharif would have taken this as a wake-up call. His natural cynicism and distrust of people would have flatlined his desire.
But his entire being ached with the need to sheath himself inside her again and throw caution to the wind, following the dictates of his body, mind and soul to seek an oblivion he knew instinctively would eclipse anything he’d felt before.
He didn’t even know her name.
He would never see her after this night.
Even more disturbing was this instinct that he had to trust her. Or was that just needy desperation because he wanted her so badly?
‘You’re on the pill?’
She nodded. ‘For over a year now. I wouldn’t lie about something like this. The consequences for someone like me would be...unthinkable.’
Any sliver of sanity that might have pulled Sharif back from the edge melted into a heat haze. In this moment he believed her—and not just because he wanted to.
He said, ‘I’m clean. I got checked recently.’