Redeemed By Her Innocence / Sheikh's Royal Baby Revelation. Annie West
look where it’s got me, she thought, but sipped her water, said nothing. Being good was the only way she knew how to be. She didn’t ask for it to be this way; she simply couldn’t imagine any other way.
Her teenaged years with Tim had been innocent. They’d had their fun, but she’d been told by her mum and Nonna what wearing white meant. It had been drummed into her, like her date of birth, her address, her vital statistics.
All she’d wanted was to wait until they were married. What was so wrong with that? Why couldn’t Tim do the same?
‘Have you ever stepped onto the dark side, Jacquelyn?’
She swallowed, looked at him hard.
‘I’ve never been tempted,’ she said.
He smiled then and all over his face was temptation. In every hard line of his jaw, every brooding inch of his eyes, in the devilish swirl of his tattoo, she could see now, clearly, the other side of Nikos Karellis. The profit-driven retail mogul was gone and in his place was the Sydney Hell’s Angel, and there was nothing remotely gentlemanly about him.
No more polite tolerance, no more board-meeting manners, now she was picking up something else entirely. Now he was seeing her as a woman, and nothing else.
Her heart thundered in her ears. Her body was swirling, she felt drunk, out of control, exhilarated, afraid.
‘Never been tempted?’
He pushed away his plate and sat back, one hand resting on the white linen cloth. She shook her head. Things were shifting, the ground moving from under her, the world reforming into another place entirely. She was suddenly conscious of her legs, bare, her arms resting on the chair, her spine erect, the bodice of her dress with its revealing view of cleavage.
She pushed herself back from the table and the silk jersey of the dress slid over her bare legs as she crossed them, leaving her thigh exposed. He looked right there, at her leg, and she knew he liked what he saw.
‘Not even a little?’ he said, his fingers drumming a slow tattoo on the white linen.
Prickles of awareness swept over her arms, her legs and right to the tips of her breasts. She felt a tingling at the nape of her neck. Her body was waking up from a long sleep. And it felt good. It felt exciting.
Her fingers curled around the cushion of the seat as she leaned forward to pull the skirt of the dress back over her legs.
‘Leave that,’ he whispered. ‘Let yourself be tempted.’
Her breath quickened. Her heart picked up a strong, thudding beat. She felt herself rooted to the spot, hot and heavy and utterly under his spell. She was in very dangerous territory.
He pushed his chair back too, turned himself round to face her. She was afraid now—but only of herself and the calm, cool exterior that was slipping and sliding and beginning to feel like a puddle of watery ice at her feet.
Kiss me, kiss me, she thought, willing him closer. Her eyes fixed on his lips, her breasts ached under her dress and her back now arched into a curve all by itself, inviting him to savour her and take her.
But he sat there, just watching, drumming his fingers, slowly, slowly.
‘I’ll make the first move,’ he said, and he stood then and closed the two steps to stand beside her. His groin was level with her eyes and her mouth. It was huge and she longed to reach out and touch him.
She was shocked, shocked that these thoughts were in her mind. And it was as if he knew. He stood still as a rock, watching her, then suddenly she felt his hand on the crown of her head, and with a jerk her head was tugged back.
‘I bet you’ve got dark little thoughts and wicked fantasies in that head of yours.’
Her face flamed but she didn’t try to deny it.
‘I think you want me to forget why you’re really here and lift you up and turn you in my arms and let you feel what you are only imagining.
‘You want to taste it—it’s so close now, Jacquelyn. It’s right here. But you’re still too afraid to let go.’
Her head was tilted up, her hair caught in a bunch in his hand, her lips were open and his face glowered down at hers, dark and deadly.
‘I’m not afraid,’ was all she said, her voice hoarse and throaty.
Slowly he raised her to standing, tugging her hair with just the most exquisite mix of pleasure and pain. And she was so close to him now she felt as if she was breathing in the very essence of maleness, the root and power of masculinity, and she was getting drunk on it.
‘You want to know what it’s like to make love to me.’
She would die rather than admit it, but silence was her confessor.
‘And for a reason I still can’t quite put my finger on, I am just as curious to know what it’s like to make love to you.’
‘I’m trying to take that as a compliment,’ she said, rolling her head sensuously as his grip loosened to a caress.
‘You should. It’s been a very long time since I felt anything like this. A very long time. Maybe never…’
He trailed a finger down her cheek. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted. She felt the finger land on the cushion of her lower lip. She would not give in so easily. She would not grab him the way she wanted to.
Seconds ticked by. His finger followed the lines of her lips, lightly dusted the edges of her cheekbones, the arcs of her eyebrows and with every passing moment she yearned for his lips.
‘You know if we do this, Jacquelyn…you know what that means.’
Her head had fallen back and his arms scooped against her back, holding her steady as her neck lengthened in a gentle stretch. His fingers slid up to rest on her collarbone. And then she was closer still and she knew she was past the point of no return, that she had to feel his lips now…
‘What does it mean?’ she breathed.
Instead of answering, he now followed where his fingers had trailed from the base of her neck, with tiny feverish little kisses, brands. Up her neck to the apex where her jaw began, the most tender spot, so weakening her that her knees buckled.
‘It means nothing. Just an amazing night, one amazing night. And tomorrow we go back to where we were.’
She heard his words and she felt his kisses, at her cheekbones, and she knew if she only waited, if she had the patience, if the seconds could only stop stretching for hours, days, weeks, that his lips would finally land on hers, that she would feel his kiss and taste him and know him.
And it was as if every moment of her life had been building to this. As if every single moment she’d ever spent as a girl, learning about her femininity, the way she walked and talked and held herself, the way she put on lipstick and painted her toenails, every moment was building into this, the essence of who she was as a woman.
Kiss me, she gasped, maybe aloud this time…
Her eyes were still closed but she knew he was hovering over her face. She knew he was staring at her, at her opened lips. She felt her body throb with longing, she felt her nipples harden and ache for his hands. She arched her back and pressed closer to him, sinking into his maleness.
‘I will kiss you. I’ll kiss every part of you. But first…open your eyes, Jacquelyn.’
The rough rasping burr of his voice demanded and received. Her eyes flew open and she stared into his face. His eyes sparkled, points of light in the darkness, the black night sky behind.
‘You understand what I am saying? This means nothing beyond pleasure. I don’t owe you anything and you don’t owe me. Your company and my company are nothing to do with this.’
‘I understand,’ she breathed, impatient for