defenseless she was in this position.
Instead, she just felt him down there, his tongue lapping at her sensitive parts.
His fingers joined, slipping inside her wet body. In a way, it was really too bad he wasn't a male escort. He would have brought so much pleasure to so many women. All that skill was focused on her. The waves of tension built, tightening, making her grit her teeth.
"Breathe, Sokar ," he told her, so in control, so composed. "If you do not breathe, it affects your pleasure."
She dragged in air, as he flicked her clit back and forth with his tongue, playing her like a musical instrument—one that he'd mastered. The relentless assault drove her over the edge. Her pleasure took her into the heights.
She melted, left boneless and rung out by the climax. God, it was so good. Were orgasms that good for other people? No way, or no one would ever get out of bed.
Zaqwan kissed his way up her body. Slowly. By the time he appeared above her, she'd recovered herself, enough to turn the tables on mister-in-control.
She gave him her best shy, embarrassed smile—designed to communicate vulnerability, when that was the last thing she felt.
It worked. The glow of pride in his eyes told her he'd dropped his guard. "Well, Sok —"
She didn't let him finish the sentence. It took a sneak attack, and all her strength, but she overbalanced him easily. She had him on his back, straddling his hips, before he knew what hit him.
The stunned surprise on his face gave her a tingle of satisfaction in her belly—and the hardness of him between her legs gave her another sensation altogether. It seemed to work for him, too. He hissed in a labored breath.
"Breathe, Sokar ," she told him, holding back a smile as she ground her pelvis against him.
He let out a string of guttural Arabic. She had no clue if he was cursing her or encouraging her. She really didn't care, so long as the control in the situation belonged to her.
He stretched out an arm toward the night table. The light flickered off a square of gold packaging. Oh, so he thought he would decide when she took him inside her? Nuh-uh.
She reached for his wrist, taking it and pinning him down. And she was rewarded with those quotation marks between his eyebrows
The expression didn't last long. She saw the instant he realized that her capture of his wrist left the rest of her open. Her naked breasts grazed his smooth pecs. Her lips weren't even an inch from his.
The mood of the scene shifted. Her heartbeat slowed to a crawling pace at the same time it kicked up a notch. She couldn't swallow around the rock in her throat. Her breath was almost painful. Their gazes locked and she couldn't break away. It was uncomfortably intimate, doing this with this stranger who saw inside her and know her better than friends she'd had for years.
With aching slowness, he reached his free hand around her nape. The heaviness of it drew her down, closing the empty space between their lips.
They'd kissed before. But at the time, he was Zaq the gigolo. Not Zaqwan the man. She had only kissed him as a woman who hired him to solve a problem. A woman with a goal.
This kiss was different. There was something honest about it. Something that stripped away the lies and the roles they'd played and left something behind. A connection. She knew it, too, he was certain.
When she came up for air, she was pressed against his body like she was trying to absorb him. His left arm was wrapped around her, as if he wanted the same. Instead of her hand holding down his wrist, her fingers entwined in his, locked together.
He gazed up at her with clarity in his dark eyes, while she was filled with confusion that had her heart pounding an uneven rhythm. What had happened there?
She shook the strange feelings from her. This was no time to analyze emotions. She pulled her hand from his and shoved on his chest to get upright again.
"If you wish, Sokar ," he said.
His words irritated her, and she couldn't put
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley