When she looked into his eyes, she saw the shock as he registered her tears. “The matter is that I want you to hold me. The matter is that I’ve never stopped wanting that, not a day since I left you.”
His kiss robbed her of the need to speak any further. He felt… like bliss, she realized as her mind lifted. Her thoughts and fears simply evaporated under the magical caress of his lips against hers, teasing her lips apart. As his tongue explored hers, ratcheting up the response elsewhere in her body, she breathed him in. He tasted of wine and sand; he tasted of everything she’d been needing since she’d left him.
She moaned as his hands cupped her face and held her steady. As he continued to explore her mouth, his intense focus was on that kiss, of what he was giving her and of what he was finding in her. She didn’t know what that was, but she knew she wanted more of it. Her heartbeat pounded, and she thought that he must hear it, that it filled the intense quiet of the cave, the noise outside deadened by the thick walls.
Her fingers splayed around his hips, shifting until they reached his muscled stomach. But with each new sensation of her fingers against his skin, she wanted more. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to mimic what she wanted elsewhere. Her thoughts had moved from the kiss to sex in the split second his lips had touched hers, and it seemed he knew. Because he drew away and held her face firmly in his, his thumbs sweeping over her cheeks.
She leaned closer to him, to capture those lips once more, but he stood back and slipped off his jacket. He paused as he dropped it on the chair.
She followed his lead and pulled off her abaya. Then she unbuttoned her shirt. His eyes followed her fingers, lingering on her breasts as she drew back the fabric and slid it off her shoulders and tossed it onto the chair, alongside his jacket.
She stood only in her bra and jeans. She inhaled sharply before continuing to undress. She had no intention of waiting for him to take off the rest of his clothes. She wanted to show him what she felt, and there seemed no better way.
Within seconds she stood naked in front of him. His throat convulsed, and then he tore off his shirt. He stepped toward her and kissed each breast in turn before dropping to his knees. He pressed a kiss against her naked stomach, his eyes closing as he trailed kisses further along her stomach, his hands caressing her behind as his mouth lowered. She gasped, gripping his head with her hands as his tongue found another target.
She thanked God for his ability to focus with steely strength, as his complete attention was given to tasting her as if she were all he wanted in this desert. He wasn’t only intent on giving her pleasure, but she could sense how much he was enjoying it, too. It was in the way his tongue explored her, and his eyes closed as he focused entirely on her, his hands moving around her bottom and her sex, turning her legs to jelly and her heart into overdrive.
With each lap of his tongue, each slide of his fingers around and inside her, the coiling tension inside her tightened. She dug her fingers into his hair, terrified he’d stop. But he did the opposite, escalating his ministrations until she couldn’t stop herself, but called out his name as she pulsed around his finger.
He continued to hold her steady as her limbs trembled, and licked her arousal, tasting it as if it were the most costly, desired wine that he could have asked for. Then he rose and, without a word, slid one hand under her, the other around her shoulders, and carried her to the bed.
There, he laid her gently on the silk coverlet, richly printed with bold geometric Bedouin designs. As he finished undressing, she watched him, just as he’d watched her.
Zavian was impressive when he was dressed, but without clothes, he was awesome. His powerful body was no longer hidden behind the trappings of royalty. The strong lines of his bones and muscles, honed by years of sport and riding in the desert, revealed his innate power. She reached out to touch him.
As her fingers made contact with that part of him she craved, he closed his eyes and breathed in sharply. The sudden awareness of her power over him made her bold. She stroked up his length before circling and caressing its base. Then she rose and went on tiptoe and kissed him, feeling his erection pressing against her.
All it took was for her to raise a thigh and rub it down his hip for him to groan and swiftly lift her until she had both legs around his hips. He took a few steps until her back was pressed against the lush velvet of a wall hanging. She tilted her hips, and he entered her with one long thrust.
He held her there for a long moment, pinned against the tapestry, speared by his erection as if she were a butterfly and he were the pin. He held her in place so he could admire her beauty, and revel in his sense of possession of her—a sense of possession which she knew she’d never be able to give him in any other way. But here, naked, making love, she wanted to give him everything it was in her power to give.
He rolled his forehead against hers, kissing her nose, her cheek, nose again, lips, and then her neck, nuzzling her with kisses and nips until it was she in the end who moved first, lifting herself off him, desperate for another thrust.
It was as if he was awakened. He drew away from her, his eyes narrowed and dark as he took her, thrusting into her with a regularity with which she couldn’t argue. It took her to the place of annihilation where she was not herself, she was more—she was someone who existed only in relation to him, someone who needed him to take her to the place of no thought, only pleasure.
It was only after the blast of shocking sensation shot through her body—causing her muscles to flex around him, milking him for what she needed from him—that he allowed himself the same release. His buttocks tensed, and he thrust into her with short sharp thrusts, his eyes narrowed to slits of obsidian. When he closed them, the spell broke.
He allowed her legs to slide through his hands and fall, quivering, to the floor. Together they fell to the bed, her sex sensitive and wet as his seed leaked down her thighs. She touched it, and his gaze followed her as she brought her sperm-soaked fingers to her clitoris and made herself jerk as her sensitive bud responded to the stimulation. Gone was the shy, demure academic. Zavian had unleashed a wildness in her, matched by his own essential nature.
He entered her slowly this time, making sure she felt every inch of him against her sensitive skin, as he penetrated her. She tilted her head back, and he kissed her neck and lower, as they found a new rhythm, slow and languorous, sensuous and captivating.
“Gabrielle.” He mussed her hair with his lips.
She softly grunted as no thought, no response, came to mind.
“Gabrielle,” he repeated more urgently, as he lifted himself from her and began to increase the rhythm, to awake her from her stupor of sensation. She kissed him, and the kiss continued as he thrust into her until they came together, crying out, their mouths against each other.
Finally, their breathing subsided, and their bodies came to rest. The cave was filled with only the faintest movement of wind from the storm outside. Inside the candles’ flames rose perfect, undisturbed by any breeze. There was only their heartbeats and breathing growing more regular as Gabrielle drifted off to sleep, lulled from thought or recriminations by the total relaxation of her body and mind, as well as the touch of Zavian’s fingers over her body—caressing, marveling and worshipping all at the same time.
Zavian continuedto trace his fingers over Gabrielle’s sleeping body. She was beautiful; he’d remembered that. She was tender and yielding to his touch, completely in tune with his body and mind; he remembered that also. What he hadn’t remembered was how she made him feel. It was as if he forgot himself when he was with her. That together, they were more important than either one of them. It was a loss, but there was no doubt that it wasn’t lack which now filled his veins, but a deep sense of peace. He felt “right” for the first time since she’d left him. And at that moment, he realized that making love to her wouldn’t cure anything. It merely showed him how much he needed her, to be the person he wished to be. Without her, he was nothing.
As he gentled his hand on the small of her back she shifted a little and lifted her face to his. He brushed a kiss across her lips and settled back, his other hand under his head.
The wild night raged all around them, scarcely touching them within the womb of the mountain, which held them safe and secure. He closed his eyes as the last of the candles sputtered out, leaving complete darkness.
No, what making love had made him realize was that he needed to adjust his plans. There would be no future without Gabrielle. He just needed to make her see. And he would.
A smile flickered over his lips as he drifted off to sleep.