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A sudden wave of anxiety moved through my chest. Whatever he’d intended on this being, revenge on me for looking at his laptop or simply a week-long fling, it was becoming something more. Something that was reflected in the intensity of the dark eyes fixed on mine. I chewed on my lip.
“What is it, princess?”
I gathered my courage. “What is this?”
“Me having you here? It’s for protection.”
“Why am I sleeping in your bed and bathing with you? Why did you bring me to your personal compound when I was threatened?” I pressed. “What is this?”
He turned and looked away, his jaw working. Finally he dragged his eyes back to me and cupped my chin in his palm, his thumb running over my throat.
“Fuck if I know, princess,” he murmured. “I knew from the minute I first saw you in that bar, I wanted you. I thought it was just lust, but here we are and you haven’t put out and I still want to spend every minute with you.”
My mouth went dry. So he wasn’t as callous as he made himself out to be; there was a human with real emotions under all the show.
“So you feel something for me?” I asked.
He took me by the upper arm and pulled me against his chest, his mouth finding mine with slow strokes. His tongue tasted so familiar and exciting; I melted, my body going limp. When he finally released me, I was dizzy with euphoria and emotion.
“So that’s a yes?” I breathed.
“Yes,” he agreed.
I bit my lip again. “You’re the only man I’ve considered having sex with. And you make me feel things, not just sexual things, but more than that.”
For a moment I was afraid he’d withdraw, but then his face split into a grin. “So you’ll have sex with me then?”
I laughed aloud and it felt so good. The stress of the last twenty-four hours suddenly seemed far away as we lay together, tucked away in this compound where no one could find us. I slid my arms around his neck and lay across his warm body, the pressure of his arousal against my stomach.
We crawled into the bed thirty minutes later and Duran promptly tossed back the covers and settled between my thighs. I propped myself up on the pillows, my fingers tangled in his dark hair, and watched him work. He was so excellent at this and he seemed to thoroughly enjoy every minute he spent with his tongue on my pussy.
He brought me to orgasm a few minutes later, leaving me shaking with my legs locked against his head. Then he slid up my body and kissed me, tasting of sex, and began grinding himself against my thigh.
“God, I want you so bad,” he breathed.
“I’m still not ready,” I murmured.
I wanted it, I really did. But every time I thought about actually doing it, a sharp fear and a wave of guilt washed over me. Celibacy had been so deeply ingrained in my brain I wasn’t able to just shake it off, despite what my body wanted.
He went still, his face pressed against my throat. Then he slowly moved off me, falling onto his back on the bed. I glanced over and he was laying there, looking glorious, with his hand tangled in his hair and his face turned away.
“Maybe I’ll go take a shower,” he said after a while.
He got up and kicked off his boxers, heading back into the bathroom. I opened my mouth to stop him, but he was already gone, door shut and water blasting from the other side. I rose and followed him, turning the door handle as quietly as I could.
He stood in the far corner beneath the shower with his face obscured, water streaming down his bent head and shoulders. I padded over to join him, running my fingers up his muscled back, and he turned. His bottomless eyes were conflicted as they skimmed over me.
“Why did you leave?” I asked.
He pressed his lips together and looked down. “Because I wanted you and I didn’t want to make you feel pressured if you saw my frustration.”
I thought of the times my mother had warned me not to give myself to anyone unless it was my husband and I imagined the disappointment on her face if she knew what I was considering.
“I never thought deeply about why I was saving myself,” I said. “It’s just something my parents wanted me to do. What did your parents want for you?”
“My father took me to a brothel when I was sixteen,” he said dryly. “He told me I may as well get it out of the way if I hadn’t already.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised.
