Saif wielded an unusual power over her, Antonia realised as his hands warmed and controlled her. She should be aware of that—and be cautious. She didn’t know him or what he was capable of, but then she hardly knew herself in this new guise of reckless heat. ‘I want you,’ she murmured, quickly forgetting her reservations when Saif moved over her.
‘You’ve got me.’ Impossibly attractive and indescribably intimidating, he was experienced and she was not, and she was only now realising he had prepared her to the point where there could be no turning back. To the point where she felt a frantic need to welcome him inside her as nature, and Saif, intended.
‘Patience,’ he whispered when she moved urgently against him.
Her obedience was partially rewarded when he feathered kisses down her neck, while his hands worked more productively on even more sensitive areas. ‘Calm,’ he commanded as she fought for breath.
‘How…?’ She couldn’t even speak.
‘Easy for me.’ His lips curved with amusement.
‘That’s so unfair,’ she complained in a gasp.
‘No doubt,’ he agreed evenly. ‘But everything I do is for your own good.’
She knew what was for her own good—and it wasn’t patience!
Saif allowed her no respite from his teasing kisses on her breastbone, the swell of her breasts and on her belly, where her wet top was pushed back. But did he feel anything? Antonia wondered. How could anyone be so controlled, when she was composed entirely of sensation?
She strained towards him, wanting him to acknowledge her arousal, and gasped with relief when he made the lightest pass of his thumb against the swollen tip of her nipple before chafing each in turn with the utmost delicacy. ‘You’re teasing me,’ she complained on another shuddering sigh.
‘Am I?’ he murmured.
‘You know you are,’ she accused him, feeling more excited than ever at the thought of what else Saif had in store for her. But still he was distanced and unmoved. ‘Don’t you feel anything?’ she demanded, close to breaking point.
‘Plenty. Believe me, I feel plenty.’
Then why wouldn’t he rush things along?
‘I know exactly what you want,’ he said. A faint smile curved his mouth. ‘Soon,’ he murmured, kissing her brow chastely, as if he knew every wicked thought in her head.
‘No,’ she burst out. ‘Now!’
Saif laughed as he brought her into firm contact with the thrust of his erection. ‘Is that what you want?’
‘You know it is.’
She was lost in an erotic haze, desperately seeking more contact, and hardly aware that Saif was lifting her top over her head. Her bra followed and was tossed aside, and now her breasts gleamed pale in the moonlight, while her nipples were dark, thrusting peaks that called for his attention. ‘Take me,’ she demanded, thrashing her head about on the cushions.
Saif continued to stare down at her with faint amusement. He refused to be hurried, and so she thrust her breasts towards him in deliberate provocation.
He chose the time, and when he dipped his head to suckle she was nearly delirious with relief. Now the zip on her shorts was undone. She wriggled frantically to be free of them, desperate to be naked against him. And now the smallest scrap of lace divided them. He ripped it off.
‘If you stop now…’ she warned him.
‘Yes?’ he said mildly.
‘I’ll never forgive you.’
Saif’s cynical expression was fuel to her fire. ‘Don’t you dare stop now,’ she warned him.
He murmured something provocative in his own language, but then he stilled and, cupping her face in his strong, warm hands, he kissed her so tenderly she felt tears spring to her eyes. ‘This is more than sex for you, isn’t it?’ she said with wonder when he released her.
She wanted to hear Saif say he cared, Antonia realised, feeling a pain in her heart when he remained silent. ‘Please say something,’ she begged him.
‘What’s left to say?’ he murmured, nudging one hard thigh between her legs.
CHAPTER SIX
HE HAD never met a woman like her. It even occurred to him that he might have met his match. She begged him, ordered him, demanded that he pleasure her, whilst all the time pummelling him when she wasn’t scraping her small white teeth against his flesh for emphasis.
‘Easy, tiger-woman,’ he murmured, taking hold of her. ‘This isn’t a battleground—we’re making love.’
Love?
This was sex, pure and simple, something they both wanted and needed, something that could only happen on a night like this—a night detached from reality, a night when they were both free to throw caution to the wind.