bed and unlaced his shoes, then began to shed his clothing. When he stood nude, a shiver wracked his body. He hoped she wouldn't notice.
The last time he had stripped before another person... Memories asserted themselves. The dirty sheepskins, the stench of old smoke in his flared nostrils. The wrenching pain from behind...
His harsh breaths filled the silent room. I can't do this , he thought frantically. She'll know. She'll know!
Then a sudden, small noise jerked his attention away from his inner torment. Graham realized it had come from her. A tiny, squeaking sob.
He studied her, realizing she shivered more than he did. As if a severe chill or fright had seized her. His nervousness fled. God, she was more scared than he was.
Stepping forward, he took her into his arms and kissed her.
Graham's powerful body frightened Jillian, with its strapping muscles and thrusting phallus. Never before had she faced such intimidating maleness. He seemed carved from hard marble, a wealth of dark hair covering his muscled chest.
She had been unable to prevent a sob of fright from escaping her lips. This was a dreadful mistake. How could she do this? She held no love for this man. No emotions. She'd thought a lack of emotion would make it easier.
Instead, it made it more difficult. She should be doing this with a man she loved. Her lover would take her into his strong arms and kiss her, arousing her passion and easing her fears, and they would unite their bodies and hearts.
No, not this impersonal stiffness, this chilled room with a total stranger. Flesh to flesh. No feelings. No affection. Nothing but an exchange of cash.
But then he took her in his arms and kissed her again. Her fears melted a little from his warm, authoritative lips. She closed her eyes and let that tiny bud of sensual pleasure blossom.
Graham lifted her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather. With gentle reverence, he laid her on the bed.
She was more beautiful to him than a full moon shining upon Egypt's sands, this woman. Graham marveled at her lush body, the soft places and sweet curves. So soft, compared to the hard muscles of his own body.
He touched her slowly, carefully, mapping her with warm hands, tracing each square inch of her skin. His fingertips trailed over her round, slender shoulders, caressed the knobby points of her collarbone. He sucked in a trembling breath, filled with fresh wonder. A woman's body was so different from a man's, so soft and round and supple, as giving and pliant as the rose petals he'd brushed against her cheek. Bending his head, he kissed the juncture of shoulder and neck, tasting her. He gave a delicate lick. Salty-sweet. A shudder coursed through her and she shifted beneath him. Ah, she was not indifferent to his caresses either.
Soft—so textured and giving. He continued kissing her warm flesh, tensing his own body for better control to keep from ruthlessly plunging into her like a callow youth. His body screamed for release, but his mind wanted to savor the slowness, the newness of his first woman. His mouth trailed a line to the top of one firm breast, and when he encased her hardened nipple with his mouth, she gave a startled cry and arched. Slightly alarmed, he drew back, then realized her cry had been one of pleasure. Instinct urged him on.
He licked and suckled, rasping his tongue over the pearling peak. Wedged partly beneath him, Christine wriggled and moaned. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him against her.
Graham let his hands roam her body, feeling each curve, the small ridges and indentations of her ribs, the roundness of her hips. Then his fingers delved into the cleft between her legs. He heard her gasp. Hiding a smile, he found the little jewel mentioned in the books he'd eagerly devoured. His thumb stroked once, twice.
Rewarded by a sharp whimper of pleasure, he continued. He summoned the famous control he'd learned as a warrior in Egypt and tightened his muscles, seeking to
The last time he had stripped before another person... Memories asserted themselves. The dirty sheepskins, the stench of old smoke in his flared nostrils. The wrenching pain from behind...
His harsh breaths filled the silent room. I can't do this , he thought frantically. She'll know. She'll know!
Then a sudden, small noise jerked his attention away from his inner torment. Graham realized it had come from her. A tiny, squeaking sob.
He studied her, realizing she shivered more than he did. As if a severe chill or fright had seized her. His nervousness fled. God, she was more scared than he was.
Stepping forward, he took her into his arms and kissed her.
Graham's powerful body frightened Jillian, with its strapping muscles and thrusting phallus. Never before had she faced such intimidating maleness. He seemed carved from hard marble, a wealth of dark hair covering his muscled chest.
She had been unable to prevent a sob of fright from escaping her lips. This was a dreadful mistake. How could she do this? She held no love for this man. No emotions. She'd thought a lack of emotion would make it easier.
Instead, it made it more difficult. She should be doing this with a man she loved. Her lover would take her into his strong arms and kiss her, arousing her passion and easing her fears, and they would unite their bodies and hearts.
No, not this impersonal stiffness, this chilled room with a total stranger. Flesh to flesh. No feelings. No affection. Nothing but an exchange of cash.
But then he took her in his arms and kissed her again. Her fears melted a little from his warm, authoritative lips. She closed her eyes and let that tiny bud of sensual pleasure blossom.
Graham lifted her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather. With gentle reverence, he laid her on the bed.
She was more beautiful to him than a full moon shining upon Egypt's sands, this woman. Graham marveled at her lush body, the soft places and sweet curves. So soft, compared to the hard muscles of his own body.
He touched her slowly, carefully, mapping her with warm hands, tracing each square inch of her skin. His fingertips trailed over her round, slender shoulders, caressed the knobby points of her collarbone. He sucked in a trembling breath, filled with fresh wonder. A woman's body was so different from a man's, so soft and round and supple, as giving and pliant as the rose petals he'd brushed against her cheek. Bending his head, he kissed the juncture of shoulder and neck, tasting her. He gave a delicate lick. Salty-sweet. A shudder coursed through her and she shifted beneath him. Ah, she was not indifferent to his caresses either.
Soft—so textured and giving. He continued kissing her warm flesh, tensing his own body for better control to keep from ruthlessly plunging into her like a callow youth. His body screamed for release, but his mind wanted to savor the slowness, the newness of his first woman. His mouth trailed a line to the top of one firm breast, and when he encased her hardened nipple with his mouth, she gave a startled cry and arched. Slightly alarmed, he drew back, then realized her cry had been one of pleasure. Instinct urged him on.
He licked and suckled, rasping his tongue over the pearling peak. Wedged partly beneath him, Christine wriggled and moaned. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him against her.
Graham let his hands roam her body, feeling each curve, the small ridges and indentations of her ribs, the roundness of her hips. Then his fingers delved into the cleft between her legs. He heard her gasp. Hiding a smile, he found the little jewel mentioned in the books he'd eagerly devoured. His thumb stroked once, twice.
Rewarded by a sharp whimper of pleasure, he continued. He summoned the famous control he'd learned as a warrior in Egypt and tightened his muscles, seeking to
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