Her face was as hot as her sex as his thighs tensed with the effort of not thrusting.
She used her mouth more, she used her tongue more, she used her mind more because she wanted to move her hips. Leila wanted her sex on his face and as James suddenly swelled she recognised that he was close to the time when he had come inside her; the memory was enough for Leila. As tension peaked and then started to leave him, Leila came too. As she tasted and swallowed and then tasted some more she denied though that she was. Even as she sat back on her heels and swallowed the last of him down, she denied the pleasure between her own legs that was still flickering and told herself that it had been only for him.
‘It was a one-off,’ Leila warned as she went back to his arms. ‘For dealing with your family.’
It was the third time James grinned that night. ‘Shall I ring them now and tell them we’ll be there for breakfast?’
She rather hoped that he might.
CHAPTER TEN
JAMES, WHO HAD always hated spring, simply because it meant the end of the skiing season, started to sink into this one. He enjoyed the laughter, and evenings spent getting to know Leila better.
The money in Leila’s drawer grew and grew and the restaurant where she still worked had an undercover princess that was proving a sensation on her own.
She seemed happy by day, but James loathed her tears at night. He had decided that he would do what he could to resolve things, but Arabic, James soon found out, was a spectacularly hard language to learn.
Even with a very experienced teacher.
Day after day he sat in a small office with smaller windows and, even three weeks into his lessons, James had barely got past the alphabet and a few small phrases. ‘You were never going to be fluent in a matter of weeks.’ Nadir, his coach, merely smiled at his frustration late one Friday afternoon.
‘I was good at languages at school,’ James said. ‘I just don’t feel that I’m getting anywhere.’
‘You shall if you persist,’ Nadir said. ‘Now, I am away next week, but I have given you plenty to work on. Could you perhaps try speaking in Arabic with Leila?’
James shook his head. He was trying to prove his competence, not his idiocy. He had fast learned to school himself in private. He remembered the disapproval of his father—every Christmas card, every birthday card he had written had earned him hours more homework for poor handwriting. It had been the same with French and the same again with Latin. Michael Chatsfield seemed to believe that children should be born fully trilingual and with a healthy understanding of applied mathematics.
‘Your hair’s nice,’ James said as he came into their suite.
She had had it curled and it was loosely pinned up and though she was wearing a towel all her make-up was on. They were going out tonight and could not be late, though he hadn’t told Leila where he was taking her.
‘Busy day?’ Leila asked.
‘Frustrating,’ James said as he rapidly undressed for the shower.
She wondered when he said frustrating if he was referring again to the lack of sex, because since that night there had been nothing.
By her choice.
Though James to his credit had not pushed her.