Free The Playboy Sheikh's Virgin Stable-Girl by Sharon Kendrick Page B

like one of the palace cat’s as he stared down at her. ‘You will kiss me,’ he grated. ‘You will not deny me that.’
    Eleni knew that she dared not refuse him but the truth was that she didn’t want to—for written on his face was so much more than mere desire. There was pain and bitterness and a deep self-loathing, too. He blamed himself for his little brother’s disappearance, she realised achingly—even though he had been little more than a boy himself. And somehow she saw that human contact was what this powerful autocrat craved at this moment more than anything. And you crave it too, Eleni. At least admit that.
    She bit her lip. Surely no harm could come of one simple kiss—for instinctively she felt that the sheikh would not dare to take her by force. Or was she being too trusting?
    She touched her fingertips to the harsh line of his mouth, wanting above all else to see it soften and smile. ‘Yes, Highness,’ she said quietly. ‘I give you permission to kiss me.’
    In spite of his anguish and frustrated longing Kaliq almost laughed aloud at the gross impertinence of this lowly stable girl giving him—him the sheikh—permission to kiss her!
    But her lips were too soft and inviting for remonstration. Too beguiling for her own good. And yet instead of driving his own down hard on them as a preliminary to taking her swiftly and without ceremony—Kaliq found himself exercising an unknown restraint. Was that because this whole situation was so bizarre? He was a man whose appetite was jaded by excess and the unusual had the power to captivate him—who could blame him for wanting to prolong it?
    First he traced the outline of her lips with the tip of his finger before following it with the brush of his mouth. He grazed his lips over hers almost negligently—feeling them tremble like a heat-haze in response. And strangely, Kaliq found himself luxuriating in the slow sensuality of this meeting of flesh. At the realisation that this was the first time a man had ever kissed her. And the oddly haunting recognition that he couldn’t remember a kiss feeling quite this good before.
    Because he had never bedded a virgin—and maybe they needed to be treated differently. Perhaps he needed to take his time with her—just as you would take time to saddle up a nervous mare before jumping her.
    ‘Eleni,’ he said softly.
    ‘H-highness.’
    Pushing her further into the soft heap of cushions, he took her face in between the palms of his hands and stared at her long and hard before kissing her again, with a soft intent he had never used before. Just enough to provoke but not enough to frighten her. And he could not deny that he was intoxicated by her response.
    Her lips were velvety and completely untutored and yet he could sense the instinctive eagerness which lay behind her innocence. No doubt the same sound instinct she demonstrated with horses. Could he capitalise on her purity and his experience? Kiss her into submission until she was so senseless with desire that she would let him have his way with her?
    He drew his mouth away, noting the flush to her cheeks and the darkened pools of her eyes—the way that her breath had quickened. And suddenly Kaliq realised that it would be far more exciting if he seduced her to the point of mindless longing—until she begged him to take her. What a prize that would be!
    ‘You like being kissed by me, Eleni?’ he questioned idly.
    Dazzled by the tumult of her feelings and dazed by the candid look he was piercing at her, Eleni bit her lip. What an unnecessary question—and how could she possibly answer it? By saying that his kiss was the most wonderful thing which had ever happened to her? That it made her want to open her heart to him, as well as her body. Because that would be true. But something warned Eleni to stick to facts, not feelings—for the sheikh did not want to hear fervent declarations of emotion from a humble stable girl.
    ‘Yes, Highness,’ she said