Before long, they were both completely naked, standing face to face next to the bed. His hands were splayed over her bottom and her breasts were brushing against his chest. She could feel his erection nudging her belly and the answering wetness of her sex as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
‘Are you sure we can’t be seen?’ she whispered.
‘Why, is that your secret fantasy?’ he questioned, pushing her down onto the soft mattress. ‘People watching and seeing what a naughty princess you can be?’
Leila said nothing as his mouth moved to her neck and he moved his hand between her legs. She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the stroking movement of his fingers. But even intense pleasure could not completely obliterate the sudden troubled skitter of her thoughts. Was this what playboy lovers enjoyed most, she wondered—to share fantasies? Didn’t he realise that she was still too much of a novice to have any real fantasies?
His eyes were dark as he moved over her, but she could see the sudden tautness of his mouth. She wondered if he was wishing that this were just uncomplicated sex. That he was not tied to her for the foreseeable future, and that there was not a baby on the way.
‘Is something wrong?’ she whispered.
‘Wrong?’ he echoed unsteadily. ‘Are you out of your mind? I’m just savouring every delicious moment. Because for the first time in my life I don’t have to worry about contraception. I’ll be able to feel my bare skin inside you—and it’s a very liberating feeling.’
His description sounded more mechanical than affectionate but Leila told herself to be grateful for his honesty. At least he wasn’t coating his words with false sentiment and filling her with false hopes. And why spoil this moment by wishing for the impossible, instead of enjoying every incredible second?
Tipping her head back, she revelled in the sensation of what he was doing to her.
The way his lips were moving over hers.
The way his fingers played so distractingly over her skin, setting up flickers of reaction wherever they alighted.
The way he...
‘Oh, Gabe,’ she breathed as she felt him brushing intimately against her.
Slowly, he eased himself inside her, the almost-entry of his moist tip followed by one long, silken thrust. For a moment he stilled and allowed her body to adjust to him.
‘I’m not hurting you?’ he questioned.
Hurting her? That was the last thing he was doing. She was aware that he fitted her as perfectly as the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle which had just been slotted into place. She had never felt as complete as she did in that moment, and wouldn’t the cool Gabe Steel be horrified if he knew she was thinking that way?
‘No,’ she breathed, shaking her head. ‘You’re not hurting me.’
‘And does it feel—different?’
She met the smoky question in his eyes. ‘Different?’
‘Because of the baby?’
Would it terrify him if she told him that yes, it did? That it felt unbelievably profound to have his flesh inside her, while their combined flesh grew deep in her belly. Much too profound for comfort. She pressed her lips against the dark rasp of his jaw.
‘I don’t really have enough experience for comparison,’ she whispered.
He tilted her face upwards so that all she could see was the gleam of his silver gaze. ‘That sounds like a blatant invitation to provide you with a little more.’
‘D-does it?’
‘Mmm. So I think I’d better do just that, don’t you?’
She gasped as he began a slow, sweet rhythm inside her. Her fingertips slid greedily over the silken skin which cloaked his moving muscles. Eagerly, she began to explore the contours of his body—the power of his rock-hard legs and the taut globes of his buttocks.
She felt part of him.
All of him.
She felt in that moment as if anything was possible.
‘Gabe,’ she moaned, her body beginning to tense.
His mouth grazed hers. ‘Tell me.’
‘I c-can’t.’
‘Tell me,’ he urged again.
‘Oh. Oh!’
Gabe felt her buck beneath him in helpless rapture. His mouth came down hard on hers as her back arched, his fingers tightening over her narrow hips. He became aware of the softness of her belly as he pressed against her and then he let go—spilling his seed into her with each long and exquisite thrust.
For a while he was aware of nothing other than the fading spasms deep within his body and a sense of emptiness and of torpor. Automatically, he rolled away onto the other side of the bed where he lay on top of the rumpled sheet and sucked mouthfuls of air back into his lungs. His eyelids felt as if they’d been weighted with lead. He wanted to sleep. To sleep for a hundred years. To hold on to a sensation which felt peculiarly close to contentment.
But old habits died hard and he fought the feeling and the warm place which was beckoning to him, automatically replacing it with ice-cold logic. All he was experiencing was the stupefying effect of hormones as his body gathered up its resources to make love to her again. It was sex, that was all. Surprisingly good sex—but nothing more than that. How could it ever be more than that?
Meeting her bright blue gaze, he flickered her a non-commital smile.
‘What a perfect way to begin a honeymoon,’ he drawled.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS A honeymoon of sorts.
Leila supposed that some people might even have considered it a successful honeymoon. With time and money at his disposal, Gabe set about showing her a London she’d only ever seen in films or books—and the famous city came to life before her eyes.
They visited Buckingham Palace and the famous Tower where two young princes had once been imprisoned. They took a ride on a double-decker bus, which thrilled Leila since she’d never been on public transport before. They went to galleries and museums and saw some of the long-running West End shows.
He showed her a ‘secret’ London too—a side to the city known only to the people who lived in it. Restaurants with flower-filled courtyards which were tucked away behind industrial grey streets and intimate concert halls where he took her to hear exquisite classical music.
And when they weren’t sightseeing they were having sex. Lots of it. Inventive, imaginative and mind-blowing sex, which left her gasping and breathless with pleasure every time. She told herself she was lucky—and when she was kissing her gorgeous new husband, she felt lucky.
But while she couldn’t fault the packed schedule Gabe had arranged for her, sometimes it felt as if she were spending time with a tour guide. Sometimes he was so...distant. So...forbidding. She would ask him questions designed to understand him better. And he would find a million ways not to answer them. He would change the subject and ask her about growing up in Qurhah. And although he seemed genuinely interested in her life as a princess, sometimes he made her feel as if she was a brand new project he was determined to get right.
He remained as enigmatic as he’d done right from the very beginning. She had married a man who kept his thoughts and feelings concealed and inevitably, that made anxiety start to bubble away beneath the glossy surface of her new life.
It was only during sex that she ever felt on the brink of a closeness which constantly eluded her. When he was making love he sometimes looked down at her, his face raw with passion and his