lips were on him. Surely that was not acceptable. Even he with his limited experience knew that.
He tightened his hold on her hair, tugging her backward. “Enough,” he said, “I cannot endure any more.”
“Good,” she said. “I want you inside me.”
Her words made his stomach pitch. “I’m not sure I can withstand it.” His voice was rough, his words honest.
“We can only try,” she said. Smooth, perfect Olivia. As always. She never seemed ruffled. Never seemed at sea.
He felt certain that he must make it a goal to see her as lost and desperate as he was.
He growled, pressing her back into the mattress, gripping her wrists and holding them above her head. Much like the voluntary position she had assumed earlier. He parted her legs roughly with his own, settling between her thighs. “I will do more than try,” he said.
He might be a virgin, but he was also a warrior. Was a man who led troops into battle. Toward death, and yet ensuring they never in fact met that darkest of demons.
Surely if he could march into a line of enemy soldiers, he could breach a woman’s body.
He kissed her neck, because she looked delicious and he wanted to, and she arched against him, her breasts pressing firmly into his chest, her hips tilting upward. The head of his arousal met against her slick entrance. Yet again it was as though a blade had twisted inside him, a new brand of pleasure and pain bursting through him.
He wanted nothing more than to sink into her. The promise of all that heat, so sweet and slick, sheathing his body, pushed him to the brink.
“Say you want this,” he ground out, his lips still pressed against her neck.
“Yes. Tarek. I want this. Please.” She lifted her hips off the bed, pressing herself more firmly against him.
And he couldn’t hold back any longer.
He pressed against the opening to her body and entered her slowly, gritting his teeth as she surrounded him. Inch by excruciating inch.
He trembled, burying his face in her neck as he tried to hold back the orgasm that was threatening to end this before it even began.
He thought back to his long years in the desert. Barren, dry years that stretched before him as far as he could see. Blank, pale sand meeting a washed-out sky.
He thought of all the years he’d been without touch. Without anyone to speak to. Anyone to hold him.
He was here now. And so was she. And he would be damned to hell if he let it end now.
This was his due. For every slash in his skin made by a blade. For every lash of the whip. Every moment he’d gone without food or water. So much deprivation. And here he was submerged in sensation. In her.
Now, for the first time, he would maintain control, not for the sake of anyone else. But for himself. Only for himself.
He lifted his head, looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, cheeks flushed. He lifted his hand, traced her lower lip with his thumb. Could feel his body respond, pulsing deep inside hers.
He kissed her mouth, relishing her flavor, relishing the moment.
And then his control slipped its leash. He couldn’t stay still any longer. He withdrew, before thrusting back in deep. Repeating the motion when she moaned, the sound spurring him on.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, arching against him, urging him on. She whispered in his ear. Pleas, cries. All in English. His brain lost the ability to translate, her words losing their meaning as he moved with her.
She met his every thrust, pressing hard against him when he was sheathed fully within her. She shook in his arms, coming apart completely, her internal muscles tightening down hard on him as she gave herself over to her release.
And then he let go. And he was falling over the edge.
Blood roared through his ears, howling like a beast as he lost himself in his climax. In her. Olivia.
He opened his eyes, cupped her face, met her gaze. Her eyes were wide, shocked. Until she closed them. Looked away.
“Olivia,” he said, his voice rough. Unrecognizable.
She shifted beneath him, a small squeak escaping her lips. “Could I just…?”
“Sorry.” He rolled to the side, allowing her space. She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest, and he stayed where he was. On his side, his head propped up by his hand.
He gazed at the lines, the curves of her body. He couldn’t stop staring. She was beautiful. The most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Just looking at her was like water on parched earth. Healing. Reaching deep, untouched places inside him. Bringing them life.
She placed her hands on his arm, slowly letting her fingertips drift along his bare skin. “Tarek…you are so beautiful.” She touched a scar on his arm. “So fierce. So caring. That was… I have no words for it. Why have you never been with anyone? Why do you deny yourself?” She took a shuddering breath. “Tarek, what did he do to you?”
HE SHOOK HIS HEAD. “We don’t need to speak of it. Not now.”
She nodded slowly, keeping her hand on his arm. She didn’t speak for a moment, her eyes downcast. Then she looked back up at him. “You’ve really never been with a woman before?”
“No.”
“Have you… What…what have you done with…other people…?”
“No one. Nothing. I cannot remember the last time I was touched at all before you.” And suddenly the weight of her fingertips on his arm was like a brick. So heavy it was nearly unbearable.
“You were very good,” she said. “You should know that.”
Never in his memory had anyone said something to him out of interest of sparing his feelings. But he wondered now if that was the case. “There is no need for you to lie. In fact, it is best if you don’t. I need to learn how to please you.”
“You did. I’m not lying to you. Trust me, I wouldn’t. I was not a… You know I was with my husband. He was the only one. But…I say that to tell you I understand how important communication is. Especially in the bedroom.”
“I imagine he did not need instruction.”
“No,” she said, looking down. “He didn’t. Though, in some ways, he did. Anytime you’re with someone new you must learn them. All bodies are not the same. Being with you is different.”
“And does it please you?”
“Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes, leaving off any sarcastic asides.
“If I had known…if I had known what it would be like, I never could have resisted you the day that you touched me.”
A smile curved her lips. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I am a terrible liar. If I suffer from anything, it might be too much honesty.”
“I’ve noticed that. I find it quite refreshing.”
“Why is that?”
The smile inverted, a slight crease appearing between her brows. “I’m not sure. Maybe because I have spent very much of my life around careful people. I’ve spent much of my life being careful and suffering consequences when I wasn’t. I quite like that you aren’t.”
“I suppose carefulness might be a valuable skill to cultivate.”
“If I teach you, you have to promise never to use it on me.”
“An