was his from the moment he touched her. But now it felt as if he belonged to her, as well.
With a long, aching sigh, he brought her up against him, easing her onto his lap as he deepened the slow, tender kiss. She felt his kiss with wonder, because it had never been like this before. She relaxed into him, looping her arms around his neck, her mouth parting, opening under the sweet ardor of his.
She felt his hands at her waist, tracing her rib cage, then delicately touching the soft contours of her breasts. Under the caftan, she wore only pale yellow briefs, and when he felt her skin so close, his breath caught.
Her body began to tremble as he stroked it, his fingers deft and sure and faintly insistent. His mouth hardened on hers, and her ears were filled with the harsh quickness of his breathing and her own faint gasps when he touched her more intimately.
Her soft blue eyes looked up into his when he lifted his head, and she saw a strange expression there. “What is it?” she whispered unsteadily.
He watched his fingers tracing her breasts, watched the involuntarily movement of her body at the pleasure he gave her. “I want you,” he breathed. “But not...like I’ve ever wanted anyone else.” His dark eyes went back to hers. “I want to join your body to mine. I want oneness...”
Her lips parted. “Yes.” Even as she thought the word, she said it, because this might be the only time. She might lose him, but this once she could belong to him. He knew she was a virgin. It would be special. It would be everything.
She slid the zipper of the caftan down to her waist, and his chest rose sharply. He searched her eyes for a long moment before he eased the fabric out of the way and looked at her. After a moment, he bent, and his lips began to touch her in reverent adoration. Her breasts, her belly and her hips burned under his mouth. She moved helplessly as he touched her in ways he never had, and long before he eased her out of her caftan and briefs, she was lost.
She moaned when he moved away long enough to strip off his own clothing, his eyes dark and sensual and full of desire. There was a faint tremor in his powerful body as he sat back down on the sofa and eased her gently over him, so that she was sitting facing him. She gasped at the first touch of skin against skin, light against dark, hard muscle against softness.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he whispered, brushing her body in agonizingly slow movements against his, her breasts just barely touching him, her hips trembling against his blatant masculinity.
Her hands gripped his hard arms, and she leaned her forehead against his chest so that he wouldn’t see the fear. “Is it going to hurt?” she whispered.
“It’s going to be beautiful,” he whispered back, his hands on her hips. “Give me your mouth.”
She lifted her face and saw the soft affection in his eyes. Her heart was his. She loved him so. It was magic, the way it felt, to be this way with him, to be intimate with him. Her mind was beyond right and wrong, in thrall to the budding demands of her own womanhood.
His hands explored her waist and hips, gently caressing, softly arousing. He moved her hips against his, and she bit back a moan. She clung to him, astounded by what was happening.
“Oh, King,” she whispered achingly, lifting her eyes.
He eased her upward then, holding her gaze while he positioned her hips against his. His face was that of a stranger, utterly sensual, slightly threatening, but there was something in his dark eyes that held her spellbound. He bent, his breath mingling with hers as he brushed his mouth over hers in lazy, comforting sweeps that eased her fear.
While his lips toyed with hers, his hands were learning the silken contours of her body. He teased her breasts, nudging their hardened tips, making her tremble with the sensations he aroused. He nipped her lower lip and trailed his mouth over her throat, her shoulders and, finally, the soft swell of her breasts.
She could hardly breathe. She held his arms for support, her eyes closed, the air cool at her back. He moved then, and she felt the sudden contact with his thighs, the ripple of muscles as he probed her