Chapter Twenty-four #3
Chantelle immediately took hope that the day of reckoning had not actually arrived, that this meeting was for her to become used to him and no more. He was quick to disabuse her of that notion.
“Do not mistake me, Shahar. We will go inside—when you are ready.”
She would never be ready. She almost told him so but thought better of it. What would he consider readiness on her part, anyway? She wasn’t going to appear so, whatever it was.
He sighed then and caught the hand that rested next to his side, pulling it out from under her. “You cannot relax unless you lie back.”
“I don’t want—”
“Lie back, Shahar.”
It was an order, given in such a tone that she obeyed it instantly, afraid to do otherwise. And what else could she do, anyway, with him so close that he could easily make her obey him? But if he thought she could relax, he was crazy.
She laid her head on the very edge of his knee, keeping as much distance between them as possible.
She was acutely aware of his hips so near her shoulder, and one of the things Vashti had taken particular delight in telling her about pleasuring him came to mind, and with it a scalding blush.
But his position didn’t change. His hips were nearly flat against the pillow.
Only the upper portion of his body was twisted to face her.
“I am going to taste you now, Shahar.”
That softly murmured warning caused her to bolt straight up, only to have him push her right back down.
Visions of him biting her flashed through her mind, and she tried frantically to remember if she had seen the scars of his teeth on any of his other women.
But before the thought was even finished, his hand moved to grip her side and his mouth opened on her navel.
She jerked, a scream welling in her throat, only to feel his tongue, not his teeth.
She relaxed so completely then that he chuckled. “Did you think I meant to devour you, little moon? I must confess I do have the urge to, though I promise you it would not hurt. Another time, perhaps.”
His mouth returned to her navel, making her desperate to leap up and away from him.
But she couldn’t, not with his right arm lying across her rib cage with enough pressure to keep her from rising off the pillow.
She tried closing her eyes and concentrating on something else.
Her eyes popped open immediately, for with them closed she felt his tongue too intensely.
But even so, there was a wealth of agitation just beneath his mouth, as if she were trembling deep inside.
She didn’t recognize the sensations he was causing her to experience. She wanted to push his head away. She wanted to hold it to her. Irrational—God, what was wrong with her?
She heard his sigh, deep and fanning over her wet skin, making her shiver. “You still won’t relax, will you?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” she nearly wailed, afraid of his displeasure after being warned never to cause it.
“If I stop tasting you here”—and his tongue delved once more into her navel—“will you accept my lips in a more conventional place?”
“Yes.” Anything to get his mouth away from her belly.
Too late did she wonder where that more conventional place was, and there was no time to ask.
Before she could even draw another breath, he had scooped her up and placed her in his lap, covering her lips with a scorching kiss that was painful in its intensity.
She couldn’t lessen the pressure, for his hand had slipped up beneath her hair to hold her head still for this ravishment.
And then, seemingly from far off, she heard him groan and was terrified again that she had displeased him, or hurt him somehow, when she was the one hurting, his kiss was so passionate.
But he didn’t stop what he was doing. On the contrary, his other arm tightened around her back, smashing her upper torso against his chest until she became light-headed from lack of breath.
And then, abruptly, all pressure ended. “I’m sorry, Shahar, but you cannot know—”
Derek stopped when he realized what he was saying. Christ, what was wrong with him? Jamil would never have apologized, for any reason, and he was supposed to be Jamil in every way. She was not to know otherwise, yet he hadn’t truly played his role since she’d walked into the room.
Jamil would never have waited this long to carry her to his bed.
He would have done so the moment he felt the urge, and Derek had felt it even before she had arrived.
But he hadn’t acted on it, not completely.
He couldn’t bring himself to rush her through this experience, her first experience with a man.
Her innocence demanded more consideration from him than that.
And yet he didn’t consider waiting until another day.
He couldn’t deviate from Jamil’s character that much—or so he told himself.