Date with a Surgeon Prince(41)
How could he not?
Control was about the last thing on his mind now this woman who’d been driving him insane with desire was finally naked beneath, or nearly beneath him.
Yet he wanted to savour this first experience of the two of them together, for her sake as much as for his, and the way he felt now he’d be rushing towards a finish like an adolescent boy!
He cupped her flushed cheeks in his hands and pressed a kiss on her lips, slowing himself down, breathing deeply, allowing her time to…
To say no?
Could he stand it?
He didn’t have to—not if the way she was returning his kiss was any indication. The kiss was surely her answer to his unspoken question, a kiss that burned along his nerves while her fingers teased his skin, trailing across his abdomen, his chest, brushing against his nipples.
He knelt above her, pressing kisses on her pale skin, sliding his tongue across her nipples while she squirmed beneath the attention, her breath rasping in her throat.
Trailing kisses down her chest, he teased her belly button with his tongue. Her hands were on his head, half holding him back, half urging him on.
He kissed her lower, felt a flinch of uncertainty and returned to use his lips and tongue in torment on her breasts while his fingers did the exploration.
He felt her tightness, warmth and slickness—heat—felt a tremble that told him she was ready, more than ready, her response to his attentions exciting him beyond reason—beyond control.
He took her hand and cupped it around his length, urging her to guide him in. Her fingers were shaking, and he slid his hands beneath her buttocks, easing her off the bed so he could slide inside that hot, moist sheath.
Slide inside now in one quick thrust, the idea of not rushing forgotten in his need to take her, make her his, and himself hers in the give and take of sexual pleasure.
Her fingers slipped away, he thrust again, heard her cry out but it was too late—far too late—her movement beneath him driving him on. Her cries were different now, asking for more, needing more, seeking her satisfaction as well as his.
Her body gripped him, her legs lifted to link around his back, they moved as one until he burst apart, collapsing on her, feeling the quivers in her body that told him she had found her own pleasure and release.
But as common sense returned he realised what had happened and anger surged through him—anger at himself.
He’d taken advantage of this woman at a time when she was most vulnerable, comforting her with kisses that had led to this, never for a minute dreaming she might be a virgin. Then he’d let the desire he’d held in check since he’d first met her take over, when he should have—
Well, there was a lot he should have done.
Al’ana! How was he to know? Women her age…
He heaved himself away from her, sat up on the very edge of the narrow bed, his back to her, searching for something to say.
‘You should have told me,’ he finally managed, then realised the words had come out as an accusation, not an excuse.
He felt her move behind him and watched as she slid off the bed, briskly gathering up her discarded clothing, her beautiful, slim body silvered by the moonlight through the window.
His body stirred again, almost ready, but she’d straightened now and faced him.
‘And have you ridicule me?’ she demanded angrily. ‘Tell me men expect women of my age to be more experienced? Tell me you’re beyond wanting to teach a virgin about sex? I wanted it as much as you did, and I’m sorry if I disappointed you. Now, I’m going to have a shower and get dressed and I’d be grateful if you’d call a driver to take me back to Tasnim’s.’
He sat on the bed as the bathroom door closed behind her, trying to make sense of the situation. First the virgin thing, then the things she’d said—she’d been mocked because of it?
How hurtful!
How damaging to her.
And now he’d made things worse.
Or he thought he probably had.
Seven sisters and he didn’t have any understanding whatsoever of women and the stuff that went on in their heads.
Seduced by tears in grey-blue eyes and lips as soft as rose petals, he’d done the one thing he’d been determined not to do—made love to Marni.
And having had her once…
It didn’t bear thinking about, but he did know he couldn’t sit in the back of a dimly lit limousine with her while his driver took her home.
He picked up the phone and asked Tasnim’s major domo to send a car to meet Marni at the entrance to the hospital, but his phone call alerted someone to where he was, because now the phone was ringing, Mazur asking him if he could call in at Nimr’s dinner on his way home. He was arguing about the uselessness of that as Marni slipped out of the bathroom, nodded once in his direction then headed out through his office towards the door.