Behind the Curtain - Page 44

Her eyebrows arched. “I would think you’re being selfish by suggesting we should hang on to what’s happening between us?”

“No,” he insisted, frowning. His fingertip grazed across her full lower lip. “For wanting to eat you alive, and starting the feast without even warning you it was dinnertime.”

Laughter burst out of her throat. The tension in him broke slightly at the sound.

“Asher, when are you going to get that I want to be in those moments as much as you do?” she asked, her sincere expression sobering him. “It seemed . . . natural, what happened. Especially after we decided to, you know. Go deeper.” Her whispered two words hung in the air between them. She placed both of her hands on his upper abdomen. He held his breath at her touch . . . at something he saw in her eyes.

“I know I probably seem really young to you sometimes,” she said, her eyes flickering downward. “I must seem really backward, compared to other girls . . . other women you’ve known.”

He cupped her jaw and waited until she met his stare. She did so, albeit reluctantly. “The last thing you are is backward. I just don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready to do. But even though I tell myself that, and really do want that, I still find myself doing it sometimes.”

“I don’t feel pushed,” she whispered. Her cheeks were flushed. From embarrassment? Her hands began to move up and down on his abdomen, stroking him. No. She wasn’t embarrassed. Or maybe she wasn’t just embarrassed. She was turned on, he realized with a rising sense of wonder. His skin prickled beneath her hands. Tension leapt into his muscles at full force. “We decided not to back off from this, Asher. I don’t want things between us to be one-sided.”

“One-sided?” he repeated, confused. Wary. “What do you mean?” He sensed her hesitation. “Laila, just talk to me. Be honest. I’m not going to think badly of anything you say.”

“I’m not used to talking about it.”

“Sex?”

She nodded. Instead of meeting his stare, she watched herself stroking his abdomen. It didn’t help his restraint much.

“Laila—”

“I haven’t done it before,” she blurted out.

He shrugged slightly. “Okay.” She glanced up, clearly taken off-guard by his nonchalance.

“You knew?”

“I kind of figured, yeah,” he admitted. He saw her face stiffen. “Not because I think you seem backward. Not at all. You’re so responsive, it’s like . . .” She looked up at him curiously—suspiciously? He paused, not exactly sure how to finish the sentence without possibly causing offense. He recalled all too well how she’d jumped up like she’d been stung when she’d climaxed so quickly beneath his touch on the dune the other night.

So incredibly.

He exhaled slowly, dipped his knees and leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. The only thing he could think to say was the truth. “You’re perfect. You make me feel like a fricking god, the way you respond.”

Her eyes shone with emotion. He felt her beauty inside him, like the sweetest ache.

“I’ll do whatever you want to do. Just don’t tell me I have to stop seeing you. Kissing you.” He nipped at her mouth. She craned her head up, kissing him back. He stroked the length of her smooth arms. “Don’t tell me to stop touching your gorgeous arms.”

She smiled beneath his seeking lips. “That’s it? That’s all you need is my lips and my arms?”

“Maybe,” he said against her mouth. “A taste of you is better than a whole night with anyone else. Much. Better.” He started to step closer and take her more fully into his arms. He paused when her stroking hands on his stomach stopped him. Glancing down, he saw the determination in her eyes. Then her hands were lowering over his swim trunks. Her fingers closed around his cock.

For several stunned seconds, she gripped him in her hand while he stared down at her in openmouthed amazement and shivers coursed down his body.

“I don’t want this to be one-sided. I want to touch you too. I want to make you feel good too, Asher.”

• • •

She’d never realized that distilled desire was the antidote to shyness. She felt dizzy at her boldness. Liquid heat poured through her veins at the sensation of holding his erection. He felt so amazing. It was like holding his male strength . . . his very power in her hand. She’d sensed the tension that leapt into his body at her touch.

Was her boldness somehow related to yesterday, to that abrupt, unexpected dinner her mother planned, and Ben Khairi’s warm glances at her from across the supper table? To her mother’s smug smiles? To her own drowning discomfort at the surprising situation into which her mother had thrust her with Ben?

No. That wasn’t it. It was being deprived of seeing Asher yesterday combined with the memories of him touching her on that piano bench that had her so stirred up, pure and simple. It was the sharp realization of not just how wrong she felt with another man, like Ben Khairi, but how right she felt with Asher.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for . . . it seems like forever,” she told Asher, her voice breaking. She moved her hand, stroking him through his trunks. A shudder went through his body. She stopped, her eyes widening in alarm.

“No,” he said, his voice quiet, but rough. He put his hand on top of hers. For several seconds, their gazes clung while he guided her movements on his cock. She felt his shape pressing into her palm, the long, thick shaft. The flaring head. She tightened around the tip instinctively. He grimaced and hissed, his white teeth flashing in his tanned face.

Tags: Beth Kery Erotic
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