by Lucy Ellis
He wasn’t an audience member, or even her boss. He was the man she’d chosen.
She gave him an uncertain smile. ‘Do you want to get naked with me?’
Yes. Yes, he did.
It was as if everything that had come before had fallen away. There was just this.
And if this was Gigi seducing him it was working.
It was also entirely unnecessary, because the first time she’d looked up at him from her vantage point on the dusty floor of that stage he’d been hers.
‘I take it that’s a yes?’ she said, and she closed the distance between them and began sliding his shirt down over his shoulders, not hurrying anything.
He felt the tips of her breasts brush against his chest and desire stabbed him as deeply as anything had in his life. He put his hands around her shoulders and felt the quiver through her delicate body.
Although she’d initiated this, he had the oddest feeling of having something not quite tame under his hands, and that any sudden move might change the trajectory of this encounter and see her scooting off into the underbrush—or running for her phone.
It was all beginning to make some sort of sense.
Her skin was like cool silk as he explored the narrow breadth of her back. Her whole body was trembling as she wound her arms around his neck, and now he felt the dancer’s tensile strength in her grip, and when she looked into his eyes hers were bluer than blue.
‘Khaled,’ she said seriously, ‘please don’t stop now.’
‘Nyet—no stopping,’ he assured her, and lifted her in a single movement up onto the bench.
‘Here?’
She blinked, and he wrenched his attention from her quivering breasts, alluringly close to eye level.
‘Not here?’
‘Maybe not...’
‘Where? Anywhere you want.’
‘You’re a man—you’re hardly going to argue with me right now.’
‘This is true.’
Only he’d been arguing with himself since he’d set eyes on her, but right now he couldn’t think of one damn reason why they shouldn’t have this night.
He couldn’t resist, and took one small cinnamon nipple into his mouth. She whimpered.
She tasted like heaven. She was heaven.
Her fingers tangled in his hair.
He used his tongue. He sucked. She made sounds of approval that invited him to move to her other breast and went wild against him.
Khaled knew he wasn’t even going to get his jeans unbuttoned at this rate. He was going to disgrace himself like a fifteen-year-old boy with his first girl.
He had to slow this down. He wanted to take his time.
But he had to have her.
But not in the damn kitchen. Gigi deserved a bed.
He carried her up two flights of stairs and into his room. Khaled realised his mistake, but it was too late. Gigi was looking around his bedroom with a rapt look on her face.
‘Holy Mary, it’s the Arabian Nights.’
He’d forgotten the impression it made.
The keyhole doorway...the vast bed low to the ground...the gallery above where he kept his books. It had been copied from an etching of an old Muscovite terem. He supposed to a non-Russian it did look like an eastern fantasy.
For him it was an excellent use of space and the existing architecture.
He couldn’t say she was the first woman he’d brought here, but she was one of only a few. This was his private realm, and he guarded that privacy, but his usual sense of needing to distract and create distance didn’t come.
Gigi could sense a little tension in him as he lowered her feet to the floor. Her hair swung around her shoulders. He framed her face and kissed her. It was a deep, soul-stirring, come-and-let-me-show-you-things kind of kiss—the sort Gigi imagined she wasn’t ever going to get enough of.
To her surprise he turned her in his arms and said her name against her throat—a rough whisper that shimmered down her spine as his hands skimmed over her unbearably sensitised breasts to curve round her jutting hips and spread across her belly, only to move up again and cup her breasts.
His breathing was gratifyingly heavy, his mouth hot against the back of her neck, and Gigi thought the backs of her knees weren’t going to hold her.
‘Khaled...?’ She needed to say his name.
‘Vechno—that’s how long I’ve been waiting for you.’
‘Vechno?’ she breathed.
‘For ever. I thought you were a hallucination,’ he said into her hair, his voice rough as sandpaper. ‘Tell me I’m not still in the desert.’
Her heart lifted.
‘No—thank goodness! Imagine where the sand might go.’
Laughter rumbled in his chest, and it felt so good against her that she wanted to stay there for ever. Sparks and sensations were cascading through her like the most beautiful waterfall as he continued to circle her nipples with his thumbs, teasing them into points of unbearable sensitivity. He fondled her breasts and stroked her body as if touching her like this was all he wanted, and Gigi thought she might die of it.
But what a way to go.
She made a soft sound of relief as his mouth slid over the sensitive nape of her neck, and then she felt his kiss on the tip of her spine right down the centre of her to her molten core, where she simply combusted.
‘Is this what you want, Gigi?’
She felt her heart spike at the thickly worded question, thrilled that he would still ask.
She turned in his arms and sought his mouth, and kissed him with all the sensuous passion he drew out of her.
This, this, this.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said against his mouth.
It was his turn to make a deep, gratified groan as he cupped her bottom and brought her up against him. She wrapped her long legs around him and he feasted on her mouth.
He carried her over to the bed, lowering her onto her back. He knelt over her and undid the button at the top of her trousers, deftly rolled them down the length of her legs, taking his time to enjoy the milky, satin-smooth limbs he was uncovering, smoothing the way with his hands.
‘Don’t stop now,’ she warned.
‘Dorogaya, Hannibal’s army couldn’t stop me now.’
She was still wearing the tiny glittery G-string she’d worn onstage, and he ran his thumb under the string that held it around her hips, all the way to the heart-shaped piece of satin that preserved her modesty.
‘This,’ he said, ‘is indecent.’
Gigi’s breath hitched as he stroked beneath it, his thumb finding her clitoris all plump with need.
Kneeling over her, he looked as wild and untamed as he had when he’d come for her across the stage, his shoulders massively broad. Only this time he was stripped. His bare chest was covered in dark hair, arrowing down to an abdomen as taut as a drum and a deeply cut pelvis where the hair grew thicker.
Gigi’s eyes were drawn to the thrust of his heavily erect penis. It was beautiful—like the rest of him.
She began to explore him with her hands, but Khaled was soon moving out of her reach, and any further attempts to pleasure him as he was pleasuring her exploded into a thousand inconsequential pieces as he snapped the string and bared her to his gaze.
She had a slender strip of golden-red curls. A lot of the girls had everything off—it was just easier, given their revealing costumes—but she’d wanted something to remind her she was a woman. Khaled seemed to appreciate it as he touched her there, his expression a little blurry with lust.
He slid down between her thighs, gently but inexorably pushing them apart. He coaxed open the petals at the heart of her and found her hot and wet and very ready.
Gigi made a startled sound as he used the flat of his tongue to lap at
her, and clutched at whatever she could get her hand on—the sheets, a pillow—tangling the fingers of her other hand in his thick hair. She felt shameless in her need as pleasure rocked her body like a little boat in a storm. She whimpered and keened, and when he lifted his head the boat was in pieces. She felt like a tiny piece of flotsam in the midst of a cyclonic tempest, poised for a moment on a high wave.
Through the blur of her own pleasure she saw muscle definition on him that she’d never seen on another man, and she couldn’t help but run her hands over it, feeling those muscles contract under her touch.
He bent his head to her breasts, no longer tugging but feasting on her nipples until she could barely stand it.
‘No more, Khaled,’ she whimpered, yanking not gently on his hair. ‘Please, I just want—’
He raised his head, those heavily lidded eyes and the most carnal of smiles sending her core body temperature through the roof.
‘Just think about how achingly aroused I’ve been for forty-eight hours, Gigi. This is payback.’
Gigi tried to do the mathematical calculation, but it wasn’t easy with her body on fire and with Khaled licking her nipples with the flat of his tongue like a big, wild cat.
He couldn’t mean from the first time he saw her?
‘But... ‘
‘Da, you’ve worked it out—I’m that basic,’ he growled, rising up over her and rolling on a condom with brutal efficiency.
The hard heat of him sinking into the wet heart of her was so welcome she almost wept. Maybe she did, because everything suddenly looked blurry.
He didn’t rush, and he held himself still for her, waiting for her muscles to relax and get used to the invasion, his eyes soldered on her expressive face.
Then he began to seduce her mouth with his and she melted around him, lifted her hips. He sank further.
‘Oh...’
She could feel him so deep inside her. Too much.
He brushed the nub of her clitoris. Tiny nerves sang.
‘Khaled...’ she sobbed.
‘That’s my girl,’ he crooned.
He drove into her and they both groaned. He built and built the gorgeous ache in her body and she met every stroke. They moved together, as if their bodies were made for this dance, and she knew she would die, she would just die, if she didn’t reach that peak soon. And he took her there, holding himself in check with a gritted jaw as she pulsed around him.
Then he was moving again—harder, deeper. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as he licked her breasts and over she went again, gripping him, crying out. Thighs trembling, skin gilded with perspiration. This time he came with her, his deep groan speaking to her own bliss before he crushed her to the mattress.
Gigi wrapped her arms around him. This was what she needed—skin on skin, the weight of him anchoring her after the gorgeous devastation.
When he stirred she thought he would move away, but instead he took his weight on his forearms and his mouth sought hers so sweetly she felt astonishment. She clung.
His eyes met hers, heavy-lidded, still drugged with the pleasure they’d given one another.
Gigi rolled onto her side as he got up to dispose of the condom and watched him through her lashes.
She felt replete, but she wasn’t sure what to expect next.
She simply didn’t have the heart to say anything that might shatter what felt to her so intimate and new.
So she waited for him to say something as he came back to the bed, lowered himself beside her. And then he did the most perfect thing—without a word he pulled her into his arms.
Gigi went to him. It was absolutely where she wanted to be.
Her heart was beating so fast.
She mustn’t read too much into it.
This was animal warmth, she told herself. It was natural to cling together after their bodies had come to know each other so well, so fast. Natural to take what was on offer—body heat, a fleeting sense of security—to take comfort.
She closed her eyes and took the comfort. Told herself this elated feeling was merely part of the natural high after great sex. Told herself so many silly things. But in the end, with her cheek pressed against his shoulder, the warmth and solidity of him against her, she felt like staying there all night. Longer. Eternally.
Vechno. She knew the word now.
Khaled didn’t say anything, merely grunted as if satisfied that he had her where she was.
It was the nicest sound in the world, she thought before sleep claimed her.
* * *
Well, she’d had her night with him. Now what?
Gigi eased her deliciously aching body into a sitting position, slid her long legs off the bed and, with a slightly triste glance backwards at Khaled’s much larger, uninhibited body taking up most of the mattress, tiptoed off in the direction of the bathroom.
Under the bright lights she looked as if she’d been dropped head first into a spin-dryer. Her hair was sticking up, her eyes were sleepy, and she had a cockeyed smile on her face that just wouldn’t go away.
She was also covered in the scent of him, and washing it off wasn’t her first priority. She leaned into the mirror and eyed her reflection curiously.
‘So, what exactly do you think you’re doing, Gisele?’ she asked aloud.
Apart from the obvious.
She giggled, and made a face at herself.
Her mouth was swollen, and she had beard rash in all kinds of places, but as she ran her fingers through her crazy hair she felt insanely good. There had been nothing awkward about last night, and although she could put that down to Khaled’s experience, she rather thought there was something about the way they were together that just worked.
She’d never had casual sex before, so she couldn’t compare it, but a deep female instinct told her that this wasn’t how ‘casual’ felt.
She had never felt so connected to someone or so secure as she had in Khaled’s arms.
It had her smile fading.
She’d grown up through her vulnerable teenage years with a father who’d put her through hoops—literally—to secure his attention. Nothing she’d ever done had pleased him. But it hadn’t stopped her trying over and over, and she didn’t need a psychologist to tell her that she feared sending herself down the same unsatisfactory path in an adult relationship with a man.
Which probably explained why she had never taken any of her previous romantic brushes with men very seriously. Better to be sure you wouldn’t tumble into love when love, as far as she knew it, was akin to falling down a flight of stairs. However, she had never just tumbled into bed with a man after forty-eight hours.
She was frowning at herself, and at this development in her life, when Khaled appeared in the doorway, leaning there with that extraordinary muscular grace he’d applied so breathtakingly to making love to her. Naked, rubbing his chest as he yawned, he was looking incredibly gorgeous, with a lock of dark hair falling over his eyes.
Mine.
Gigi bit her lip. No, not mine—borrowed.
She tried not to cover herself. She had no problem with nudity—she’d lost a lot of her self-consciousness in those first months at L’Oiseau Bleu. You couldn’t be too hung up about your body when you danced in the equivalent of a bikini every night. Still, it felt different with Khaled’s gaze hot and heavy on her and her nipples visibly budding in the mirror.
No place to hide.
Given his penis was behaving the same way, she shouldn’t be embarrassed.
Gigi dropped her chin and smiled as he came up behind her and put his arms around her shoulders.
‘Do you do this a lot? Talk to yourself in the mirror?’
‘Only when the person I want to talk to is passed out on the bed.’
He smiled then—a slow, inc
redibly sexy spread of his mouth in alignment with his dark eyes as they creased with appreciation.
‘Last night was incredible,’ he said against her ear, sincerely, kissing her neck, lifting his face so that his dark gaze met hers in the reflection.
They looked good together. Complemented one another. Him so dark and male, her so tawny and female, her lithe frame bracketed by his powerful body.
Gigi even thought she looked a little beautiful this morning, as if all the happy exercise had given her a glow.
Which didn’t explain the glow inside her.
She felt as if she’d swallowed sunshine.
‘But, Gigi...’ he said, and he looked very serious. ‘I’m not a good bet if you’re looking for any more than this.’
Gigi had the quick wits to respond before hurt got a hold. ‘Why is it men never say those words before sex—only afterwards?’
Colour actually scored his high cheekbones and Gigi, despite the way her stomach was hollowing out, almost smiled.
What worked in his favour, aside from his obvious discomfort, was the fact that he kept his arms around her—as if he had no intention of letting her go.
Still, it was a bit rich, his assuming she would have ‘catch and contain’ plans for him. She had a very nice life, thank you very much, and she didn’t intend to swap it for hot nights in Moscow with him.
So she let him have it. ‘I should probably let you know I’ve got a ten-kilometre rule. I only date men who live within ten kilometres of Montmartre, otherwise it just gets too difficult. If it got serious he might want me to move, and I won’t be doing that.’ She raised a brow. ‘So I’m not a good bet if you’re looking for any more than this.’
Khaled lifted his head away from hers. ‘Ten kilometres?’
‘Don’t worry,’ she said with a little smile, ‘we’ll just consider this a weekend fling—that way we have the back-to-the-real-world clause open to us. You can go back to your normal, and I’ll go back to mine. Deal?’
Khaled’s arms tightened around her and there was a frown in his eyes. ‘This is what you want?’
Gigi didn’t have a clue what she wanted. She knew what she liked. She liked his arms around her, the closeness physical intimacy had brought them, but she already knew this was probably the biggest mistake of her life.