Marguerite Kaye - The Chatsfield Short Romances 1-5

‘I want to get to know you better.’

Nat looked at Salim, her hand in his. Not what she’d expected to hear. She almost felt disappointed, and then he said with a wicked grin, ‘And I don’t mean by talking.’

His shirt was open at the neck and he leant down and took Nat’s bag out of her hands, throwing it onto a chair. Then he led her over to a couch and sat down, pulling her onto his lap.

A shaky breath left her chest. He felt so firm underneath her, unyielding, hard. He looked at her for a long moment and then lifted a hand to push her hair off her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her bared neck. Tingles chased over her skin, causing goosebumps.

She felt the arm of the couch against her back and sagged against it a little. Her bottom rested in the cradle of Salim’s lap and she could feel his erection under her flesh. He pulled back and cradled her head with a big hand, his other hand coming to rest on her thighs.

Anticipation tightened. He moved his hand down her thighs and legs, smoothing over bare skin, until he got to her feet and slipped her shoes off each foot. They fell with a muted thud to the carpet.

This burningly intense yet lazy seduction wasn’t what Nat had expected. It was as if Salim wanted to savour every tiny moment. And it made her melt even more.

He angled her head towards him, his other hand coming back up her legs, so slowly she had to bite her lip. He went under the material of her dress, and rested his hand on her upper thighs, and then he pulled her head towards him and he slanted his mouth over hers, and all Nat could feel was heat .

She wound her arms around his neck, hands shaping his skull, feeling the short silky strands of his hair. The kiss was dark, decadent, slow and sexy. Breaths mingling and coming harsher as it went deeper and deeper.

Without even realising it, Nat was angling her body into Salim, pressing her buttocks against him, wriggling ever so slightly to assuage the burning ache between her legs, which got worse when she felt him so hard underneath her.

His hand moved around, under her thighs, gathering her into him and then suddenly he stopped and Nat stopped too. She pulled away, breathing harshly, dizzy. His hand was resting right over the puckered skin of her scar.

His eyes were burning. ‘Where you got shot?’

She nodded, mouth dry, because he looked so fierce all of a sudden.

‘ Merde.’ The curse was harsh in the quiet room. In direct contrast to how gentle his fingers were, on her scar. Nat felt shaky. ‘It’s ok, I’m ok now. It was a long time ago.’

Salim shook his head and rested his forehead against hers for a moment. ‘That’s why I got out…too much pain and horror. It was eating away at my soul.’

A well of emotion made Nat bring her hand around to touch his jaw. She just said softly, ‘I know.’

And then because she couldn’t resist, she pressed her mouth to his again and let their desire burn everything away but here and now. When Nat realised that Salim had pushed aside her dress and pulled down the lace cup of her bra, he was already cupping the flesh of her breast, her nipple a sharp point against his dark skin.

She lay back, panting, her bottom moving restlessly on his lap, against his hard arousal. He looked at her and smiled wickedly before lowering his head to her breast, its plump flesh being offered to him like some sort of succulent invitation.

He flicked his tongue against her and she groaned, watching with greedy eyes as his teeth nipped gently at the turgid flesh, before soothing with his tongue. His dark hair and face against the paleness of her skin was erotic in the extreme.

When he finally closed his mouth around her nipple and drew it into his mouth, her head fell back against the couch, she arched against him in a silent plea and her hands wound into his hair, holding his head.

He stopped cupping her flesh to undo her dress, tugging it open completely, and Nat urged him on, rolling her hips now, hearing his low growl of approval against her breast.

When his hand moved down over her belly and cupped her burning mound, she went still. Her legs fell open and he smiled against her, lifting his head to watch the reaction on her face when he explored with long fingers, pushing aside the flimsy barrier of her pants to slide one finger along the wet seam of her body.

Nat felt so hot she was burning up. Sweat broke out all over her body and she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Salim was a sorcerer, his finger lazily exploring but never quite—and then he thrust inside her, deep into the channel of her body, which was already clamping in anticipation of his body.

‘Salim,’ Nat shuddered, ‘I can’t…please…’

One finger became two, and her body arched at the exquisite intrusion.

‘Not enough?’ Salim’s voice was rough, the only giveaway that he wasn’t half as cool as he let on. That, and the flare of colour on his cheeks and his steel hard erection under her bottom.

Nat moved against him now, sinuously, feeling his penis slide against the cheeks of her bottom through their clothing.

‘Damn,’ he said hoarsely, his control finally fraying, just as Nat feared she might tumble over the edge completely with the movement of his hand and fingers between her legs. No man had made her feel this crazed, this wanton.

Salim took his hand away from Nat’s body and the momentary relief was short because he pulled her over him so that her knees were either side of his hips. Her eyes widened when she could feel his thick length right there .

Lust bloomed to think that he might just free himself and—

‘Much as I’d like to do what your eyes are suggesting I think we can make it to a bed, hm?’

Nat flushed scarlet and glared at him. Salim chuckled. ‘ N’inquiete pas trésor , as much as I want you hard and fast right now, I want you on a soft surface and bared to me completely.’

Hard and fast sounded great. Nat trembled. She already felt bared completely and they’d been doing little more than heavy petting. What would it be like when their bodies joined? The thought made her brain fuse.

Displaying awesome strength, Salim stood up from the couch, taking her with him, wrapping her legs around his waist. As if he couldn’t help himself he kissed her and Nat’s slick body moved against him like a hungry little kitten.

He groaned and pulled away, his accent was thick. ‘Damn you, sorciére . I won’t take you here on the floor.’

And then he was walking, striding through the suite and into a darkened bedroom, where he lowered her to the bed. The sheets were cool against Nat’s feverish skin, and it only got more feverish when she watched Salim step back, kick off his shoes and start to undo his shirt, never taking his eyes off her.

Nat wasn’t even concerned that her dress was gaping open and that one breast was bared. She was too meserised by the stunning power and beauty of the body being revealed to her. Every muscle was clearly delineated, honed, but not pretty. It was as if he was carved out of rock.

The shirt dropped to the floor, his hands came to his trousers and Nat gulped. The belt slid free, and when she saw the slightest tremor in his hand as he lowered his zip, she looked up.

Salim’s hand stopped. ‘ Viens ici .’

Nat understood French. She wondered if he even knew he was speaking it? She stood up, wobbly, and went towards him.

He said, ‘ You do it .’

She looked down to see the zip half undone, and a large bulge. Mouth dry, she reached out and took it, her knuckles brushing against the hot thrust of his arousal. His breath hissed. As she pulled the zip down, over that bulge, Salim’s hand cupped her bare breast, a thumb rubbing back and forth over her sensitised nipple.