The Sheik's Son(39)

He saw her moist lips, those hazel eyes and that auburn hair and nothing else mattered. Damn it all.

“Of course. Just one more thing,” he added.

“Yes?” She seemed so irritated and superior, which was humorous as she lay in his arms almost naked.

“Just this.”

He kissed her suddenly as he pressed completely into her. She gasped and felt the weight of him on her and her nails dug into his forearms. She seemed to squeak as he pressed her legs apart and settled between them. That was a huge mistake. All he wanted was to sink into the soft, wet core and it was torture. He had a strong will, but this was too much.

Sophie had never felt anything like this. Even his kisses and touches before had been nothing compared to this. This was something else. This was a seduction. This was heaven. She moved her fingers into his hair and Sebastian was startled.

No, don’t enjoy it, he wanted to tell her. He didn’t want to take her like this. But then, he did want her to enjoy it. He did want her here. Now. Exactly like this. Dewy from sleep, innocent and lovely. Hazel-eyed, intelligent, lovely Sophie.

He pressed his hand against her breast and the thin chemise offered little covering. The nipple hardened and Sophie whimpered. He wanted her so badly. This was madness.

Suddenly she felt a hardness between her legs through the linen chemise and knew it was him. She wasn’t a simpleton and understood nature and life. She had aroused him. She had done that.

“Let me go.” She moved her head away from his, turning to the side. She knew he was too strong to fight. He would have to let her go.

He swallowed hard. He was falling somewhere fast and he didn’t know how to reverse what was happening. “Sophie. Please believe me. This was a mistake—”

“Thank you.” She struggled in his arms, trying to get away from him, knowing it was futile.

“No, not this. Last night, it was late. I—” he whispered, trying to get her to understand.

“Sophie?” A knock came at the door. Sophie recognized Germaine’s voice and threw a look at Sebastian.

“Tell her you’re dressing,” he whispered.

“I’m dressing, Germaine. I’ll be down shortly.” she called out.

“All right. See you downstairs,” came her reply.

Sebastian stared down at her for a moment. If he risked taking her, she would want it now. But she would hate him after. He wouldn’t do that. He regretted so much releasing her and she moved away from him instantly, jumping out of the bed and moving toward the window.

She turned her back on him and he sighed as he pulled on his breeches. “We’ll have to talk about this eventually, you know.”

He admired the straight back and auburn hair falling down it. Her arms were crossed over her chest in a defiant manner.

Sophie remained turned from him. “No, I don’t know that. As you just pointed out, this was a mistake. So we can leave it that.”

He moved toward her, still half naked, turning her to him. “Sophie. You can’t deny what’s happening between us.”

“Of course I cannot. It’s an attraction. That doesn’t mean you give in to it,” she said calmly, though her heart was racing. She wanted him to leave. She wanted him to stay. And she felt he must never know how much she truly wanted him.

“Sophie. It’s not evil. It’s not disgusting,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t say it was. It’s sex. Copulation. Don’t make it out to be something profound,” she countered.

He almost smiled. What did this little virgin know about sex, disgusting or profound? She said the words but she had led a sheltered life, his little, chaste Sophie.

“You hide so easily behind your words and your books.” He drew a line under her chin, tipping it up.

“Those words, those books, change the world,” she threw back at him, her eyes meeting his.

He admired the shape of her face, her eyes and those lips he wanted to taste again and again.

“Yes, they can. And sex can create life, give comfort, solace, pleasure, peace. You know nothing of those things, little innocent,” he said as he moved away from her, dressing and pulling on his hose and shoes.

He looked at her desk as he dressed and saw several sheets of paper all filled in with her fine handwriting. It didn’t look like a letter as it was not addressed or signed. It looked like someone writing down their thoughts or ideas. The inkwell was low and the quill pen was well used. Interesting, he thought.

Sophie watched him quietly and then suddenly she went to him, startling him. “Sebastian, you won’t say anything to anyone about what happened here.”

“No, Sophie. I won’t say anything about what happened,” he told her. “Because, in fact, nothing happened, did it?”