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Authors: Susan Mallery
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man.
“Tell me you want this,” he told her.
“Yes, Khalil ,” she whispered, staring into his dark eyes and losing herself there. “Please. Be in me. Change me.”
Something probed between her legs. He reached between them, guiding himself. She parted her thighs and told herself to relax, that tensing would only make it more difficult. Then he was filling her, stretching her until it nearly hurt. He pushed in deeper, then paused.
“There,” he said. “The proof.”
His expression tightened. He flexed his hips once and pushed. A sharp pain ripped through her, making her gasp, but he didn’t stop. He thrust deeply into her, all the while staring into her eyes. Passion combined with possession. Later she would swear that she remembered the faint whisper of a desert wind as he took her into his embrace and called out to the heavens, “You are mine.”
Chapter 5
Khalil lay in the darkness. He was tired, but he couldn’t sleep. Not after what had happened.
He turned his head to the left and stared at the woman curled up next to him. He could barely make out the shape of her body, but the scent of her filled his senses and made him want to pull her close so that they could make love again.
Instead he pushed himself into a sitting position and turned until his feet rested on the floor. For the first time in his life, he’d made love with a virgin. He’d heard Gerald’s accusations and had assumed the man was telling the truth, but a part of him had wondered. Dora’s hesitantly eager responses had also hinted at the truth, but until he’d felt his arousal pierce the veil of her innocence, he hadn’t been sure.
The act of deflowering a virgin had been surprisingly satisfying. He enjoyed knowing that no man had spilled his seed inside of her—that she was, in the most primitive way possible, his.
Khalil smiled, but the gesture was more cynical than humorous. He prided himself on being a modern man, forward thinking in his quest to lead his country into the new millennium. Yet here he sat, pleased that he’d finally bedded a virgin. So much for his thin veneer of civility. He was not as far removed from his savage ancestors as he would like to think.
Which didn’t answer his question about the woman. He glanced over his shoulder and watched her sleeping. Could he do this? Was it wrong?
He dismissed the queries as soon as they appeared. He was Khalil Khan, prince of El Bahar . He could do anything he liked. In matters of state, the fate of the country came first. He would not marry Amber and subject himself and his nation to her petty nature. Yet he had to marry and produce sons to carry on for him when he was dead. He was a member of the royal family—he had obligations.
Besides, without him, who was Dora Nelson? A secretary? A nobody who had been badly used by her former employer? With him, she could be so much more. She would, in fact, be honored by his proposal. This was best for all concerned.
That decided, he stretched out on the bed. When the first light of morning crept into the room, he would begin making phone calls. By the time Dora awoke, all would be arranged. He closed his eyes to sleep, but instead of relaxing, he found himself reliving the pleasure he’d found in her arms.
She’d been unskilled, but eager. Her pleasure when he’d touched her most feminine place with his tongue had surprised them both. She’d writhed beneath him like a wildcat. The memory made him smile, then grow hard. He remembered how tight she’d been. How she’d stiffened from the pain when he’d first pushed through her barrier. But she’d relaxed, allowing him to go more deeply. He’d plunged in and out of her, feeling her give herself up to him. How fiercely she’d wrapped her arms around him as she’d urged him to completion. She’d wanted him to take her, to change her, to make her a woman. When he’d climaxed, she’d clung to him, as if she never wanted him to go.
He’d had every intention of
“Tell me you want this,” he told her.
“Yes, Khalil ,” she whispered, staring into his dark eyes and losing herself there. “Please. Be in me. Change me.”
Something probed between her legs. He reached between them, guiding himself. She parted her thighs and told herself to relax, that tensing would only make it more difficult. Then he was filling her, stretching her until it nearly hurt. He pushed in deeper, then paused.
“There,” he said. “The proof.”
His expression tightened. He flexed his hips once and pushed. A sharp pain ripped through her, making her gasp, but he didn’t stop. He thrust deeply into her, all the while staring into her eyes. Passion combined with possession. Later she would swear that she remembered the faint whisper of a desert wind as he took her into his embrace and called out to the heavens, “You are mine.”
Chapter 5
Khalil lay in the darkness. He was tired, but he couldn’t sleep. Not after what had happened.
He turned his head to the left and stared at the woman curled up next to him. He could barely make out the shape of her body, but the scent of her filled his senses and made him want to pull her close so that they could make love again.
Instead he pushed himself into a sitting position and turned until his feet rested on the floor. For the first time in his life, he’d made love with a virgin. He’d heard Gerald’s accusations and had assumed the man was telling the truth, but a part of him had wondered. Dora’s hesitantly eager responses had also hinted at the truth, but until he’d felt his arousal pierce the veil of her innocence, he hadn’t been sure.
The act of deflowering a virgin had been surprisingly satisfying. He enjoyed knowing that no man had spilled his seed inside of her—that she was, in the most primitive way possible, his.
Khalil smiled, but the gesture was more cynical than humorous. He prided himself on being a modern man, forward thinking in his quest to lead his country into the new millennium. Yet here he sat, pleased that he’d finally bedded a virgin. So much for his thin veneer of civility. He was not as far removed from his savage ancestors as he would like to think.
Which didn’t answer his question about the woman. He glanced over his shoulder and watched her sleeping. Could he do this? Was it wrong?
He dismissed the queries as soon as they appeared. He was Khalil Khan, prince of El Bahar . He could do anything he liked. In matters of state, the fate of the country came first. He would not marry Amber and subject himself and his nation to her petty nature. Yet he had to marry and produce sons to carry on for him when he was dead. He was a member of the royal family—he had obligations.
Besides, without him, who was Dora Nelson? A secretary? A nobody who had been badly used by her former employer? With him, she could be so much more. She would, in fact, be honored by his proposal. This was best for all concerned.
That decided, he stretched out on the bed. When the first light of morning crept into the room, he would begin making phone calls. By the time Dora awoke, all would be arranged. He closed his eyes to sleep, but instead of relaxing, he found himself reliving the pleasure he’d found in her arms.
She’d been unskilled, but eager. Her pleasure when he’d touched her most feminine place with his tongue had surprised them both. She’d writhed beneath him like a wildcat. The memory made him smile, then grow hard. He remembered how tight she’d been. How she’d stiffened from the pain when he’d first pushed through her barrier. But she’d relaxed, allowing him to go more deeply. He’d plunged in and out of her, feeling her give herself up to him. How fiercely she’d wrapped her arms around him as she’d urged him to completion. She’d wanted him to take her, to change her, to make her a woman. When he’d climaxed, she’d clung to him, as if she never wanted him to go.
He’d had every intention of
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