Reassured, he moved his hands again, now exploring her breasts quite liberally, kneading them in a way that made rational thought almost impossible.
“Samir, I want—I need—,”
“Yes,” his answer hissed from between his teeth. “I want and need too, but I think sleeping with a stranger is a very bad idea for someone in my position.”
“You’re not the heir,” she reminded him impishly.
“Nonetheless,” he moved his hands to her sides, pressing them into the sofa as he brought his body to hers, kneeling between her legs so he could brush his lips over hers, just light enough to torment her with how much she needed him, needed more. “It’s a personal code of ethics.”
She rolled her hips without realising the power of that invitation, but Samir did. He moved his hands to her bottom, cupping her there and drawing her to the edge of the sofa, pressing her body to his so she could feel the full strength of his rock-hard arousal between her legs. Her eyes were saucer wide as he began to move in an answering rhythm, his hips grinding against her so she felt the strength of his need.
Her hands gripped his shirt more tightly, clinging on.
“Samir—,”
“Don’t you want to hear your name from my mouth?” He asked, moving that same mouth to her earlobe and sucking, so she jerked against him. She felt his lips twitch into a smile.
“I like what you’d called me before.”
“And I will call you it again. Tell me your name.”
“Only if you promise it won’t change anything.”
“Why would it?” He asked, pulling to straighten, to stare into her eyes. His arousal between her legs was calling to her. She wriggled her hips again, silently, hungrily inviting him. But he was focused on her with a laser like intensity. “Jamila?”
She groaned at the foreign word.
“Who are you?”
There was nothing for it. She really hadn’t intended for this to go on so long, only teasing him had been so much fun. “Cora,” she said, moving closer, so she didn’t see the moment realisation dawned in his eyes.
“Xenakis,” he expelled on a low breath.
“Yes.” She held her breath, trying not to show how uneasy she was.
“It changes things?” She asked after a moment, when he hadn’t said anything—and worse, hadn’tdoneanything, and her insides were burning with need.
“Why?” He considered her, dark eyes boring into hers. “Because I’m friends with some of your family?”
She lifted her shoulders, her creamy breasts drawing his attention, his focus and desire written so clearly on his features that she herself became transfixed.
“That depends,” he said, putting the smallest hint of distance between them looking at her with intense and serious eyes.
“On what?” She groaned, not wanting him to pull away from her.
“What you want from this night.”
“Ah.” She darted her tongue out and licked her lower lip.
“What you want from me?”
“Nothing,” she said, simply, truthfully. “Just this night.”
He pressed a finger to her chin, holding her gaze. “Is that an honest answer?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Why would I lie to you?”
“Because you want, and need…”