face was formidable as he moved over her again and suddenly it was happening, almost without warning. He was lifting up her hips and making one deep, long thrust inside her, and she was crying out—only this time her cry sounded different, because the pain was very real. She felt him grow still and her heart plummeted as she saw the new expression on his face. The intense pleasure had changed into an expression of disbelief as he stared down at her.
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No.’
‘What?’ she gasped, because he was deep inside her and now that her body had adjusted to accommodate him, it felt amazing.
‘You’re a virgin?’
She sensed that he was about to pull out of her, but she had come this far and she couldn’t bear him to stop. Some deep instinct was governing her now, and she prevented his withdrawal by the simply expedient of tightening her body around him. She saw his eyes grow at first angry and then smoky as tentatively she moved her hips upwards so that he was deeper still.
‘So what if I am?’ she whispered. ‘Somebody’s got to be the first and that somebody happens to be you. Please, Gabe. I want to experience pleasure the way that other women do. I want you to show me how. I know you can show me how.’
Gabe shook his head as he felt her slick heat yielding to his helpless thrust. The potent combination of her innocence and tightness and the erotic words she was whispering was making him harder than he could ever remember feeling before. But she was a virgin, he reminded himself. Unbelievably, she was a virgin. She had come to his room—this complete stranger—and given herself to him without any kind of ceremony. What kind of woman did that? He felt perplexed and resentful at having been lured into a situation which wasn’t what it seemed.
So call a halt to it right now.
He swallowed. ‘This is—’
‘Heaven,’ she said, her voice an irresistible murmur. ‘You know it is. Don’t stop, Gabe. Please don’t stop.’
Her heartfelt plea was his final undoing. His anger evaporated and Gabe gave a groan of submission. Why fight it when she didn’t want him to stop and...oh, God, neither did he? Pushing himself up on his elbows, he stared down at her beautiful face as he began to move inside her.
Her eyes were closed and he was glad about that. He didn’t want to have to look at her; he just wanted to feel. He pushed deeper into her moist heat and groaned again, because she felt so good. She felt unbelievable. Was this why men spoke wonderingly about virgins, because they were so tight? Or because it gave a man a sense of power to know that he was the first?
But in the midst of all his macho triumph, he fought another wave of helplessness which was unfamiliar to him. Gone was the slick and seasoned Gabe who could last all night. He felt like a teenager who wanted instantly to explode inside her. But he mustn’t. This had to be nothing less than amazing, because it was her first time. He had to take it slowly.
Yet it wasn’t easy. He found himself stunned by the intense pleasure which was radiating through every pore of his body and not just because she was so tight. He realised how liberating it was not to have any emotional expectations hovering over him like a dark cloud. This really was sex without strings. Sex without the fear that she would fall in love with him and want more than he was ever prepared to give.
His thumb on her clitoris, he tilted her back against the pillows, listening to the rising volume of her cries. He watched as she began to move inexorably towards orgasm. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, and he met a clear flash of startled blue. As if she couldn’t quite believe what was happening to her.
‘Gabe?’ she whispered, her accented voice unsteady.
‘Relax.’ He gave another deep thrust. ‘Just. Let. Go.’
He saw her lips frame something which was destined never to be said as her eyelashes flew down to shutter out the blue. And then her body started to quiver helplessly around him and her back began to arch. He heard the words she said as she convulsed around him, although she spoke them in a language he didn’t understand. He kissed away the muffled little cries which followed and tried to ignore her fingernails, which were now digging painfully into his back. He waited until her body was almost still before he let go himself, spilling out his seed in great wrenching bursts he never wanted to end.
For a moment he felt so dazed that it was almost as if he’d been drugged. Today, of all days—his body was warm and pulsing with life, instead of feeling empty and cold or deliberately anaesthetised. From between slitted eyes, he surveyed her. Her glossy black hair was tumbling down over her breasts and her perfect olive skin was flushed.
He lifted his hand to her cheek and felt her shiver beneath that light touch. ‘Who are you?’ he questioned, but she leaned over him and kissed his lips into silence.
‘Shh,’ she said, and her voice was very gentle. ‘You look weary. Go to sleep, Gabe. Just go to sleep.’
CHAPTER THREE
‘HAVE YOU BEEN listening to a word I’ve been saying, Leila?’
Leila gave a start as her brother’s impatient question cut through the confusion of her thoughts. In the air-conditioned cool of the palace, she wondered if the hectic colour had faded from her cheeks and for once she gave thanks to the veil which concealed them from the Sultan. But there were other signs, too. She knew that. The mirror had told her so when she’d looked in it a short while ago.
Had the telltale glitter disappeared from her eyes? She prayed it had. Because if her clever and dictatorial brother Murat ever guessed how she had spent that particular afternoon...
If he had any idea that she had given her virginity to a man who had been a stranger to her.
She shivered.
He would kill her.
‘Of course I was listening,’ she defended.
His black eyes narrowed. ‘So I was saying...what?’
Leila swallowed as she searched around in the fog of her memory for something to remind her. ‘Something about the banquet you’re holding tonight.’
‘Very good, Leila.’ He nodded. ‘It seems you were paying attention, after all. A banquet in honour of my English guest, Gabe Steel.’
The sudden tremble of her knees at the mention of his name made Leila glad that she was sitting down. ‘Gabe Steel?’ she echoed and his name tasted nearly as sweet on her lips as his kisses had done.
Murat gave an impatient click of his tongue. ‘He is coming here tonight. You knew that, Leila.’
Leila forced a smile, acknowledging the power of the human mind to deny something which made you feel uncomfortable. It was the same as going for a ride in the desert—you knew that in the sand lurked snakes and scorpions, but if you thought about them for too long you’d never get on a horse again.
Of course she had known that Gabe was coming here tonight but—as with all the Sultan’s formal banquets—she hadn’t been invited. If she had, then there would have been no need to have gone to the advertising executive’s room in secret to make her doomed job application. And then to have acted like some kind of...
Briefly, she closed her eyes. She mustn’t think about him. She mustn’t.
Yet try as she might, it was impossible to stem the flashbacks which plagued her, as if someone were playing a forbidden and erotic movie inside her head on an endless loop. She couldn’t seem to stop remembering the way he’d made love to her and the way he had made her feel.
She knew that what she had done today had been wrong. It had flown in the face of everything she had been brought up to believe in. In Qurhah, women who were ‘good’ saved themselves until marriage. Especially royal princesses. There was simply no other option and up until today she had never questioned it. Yet she had seized the opportunity to let the powerful tycoon take her to his bed without a second thought. She had wanted him