Innocent in His Diamonds

by Maya Blake

  In his room, he lowered her to her feet and eased off her top. His hands slid up into her hair to tilt her face to his. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he stated simply.

  Ana cleared her throat, aware that she needed to warn him about her inexperience before it was too late. ‘Bastien, there’s something you should know. I’m not... I don’t do this lightly.’

  He dropped a long, sensual kiss on her mouth. ‘Oui, I know. It is why I will make this special for you,’ he rasped, his gaze devouring her as he reached behind her and slowly unzipped her skirt.

  His gaze didn’t stray from her face as the material pooled at her feet. Nevertheless Ana’s body flamed. She felt more naked than she ever had in her life.

  Desperately, she cleared her throat. ‘I don’t mean that.’ She licked her lips, frantic for the right words to explain what she meant. ‘I mean my experience is somewhat limited.’ She couldn’t bear it if he were disappointed.

  He paused, his chest expanding on a breath. ‘Ana, I’m almost at breaking point. So are you. Now is not the time to apprise me of your experiences—limited or otherwise.’

  ‘But there isn’t—’

  He hooked his T-shirt over his head, ripped down his trousers and boxers, and stood naked before her.

  Ana had never seen a more gorgeous specimen of man. And that was saying a lot, considering her profession. Bastien’s body was more than an extraordinary streamlined symmetry of flesh and bone. It was fluid, lithe, and graceful in ways she could never accurately describe. And most of all he was proudly masculine and unashamed of it.

  His erection throbbed with a life of its own. She stared, unable to look away, as he advanced and captured her in his arms.

  ‘If you insist on talking,’ he rasped, before seizing her mouth in another searing kiss, ‘tell me your favourite position, ma petite. We’ll start with that.’

  Shocked laughter tripped from her. ‘My favourite...?’ She couldn’t repeat his question—nor could she stop the fierce blush that suffused her face. ‘Ah, Dios!’

  He traced a finger over her cheek. ‘I’m not sure which turns me on harder—hearing you speak in Spanish or your blushes,’ he said huskily, lowering his head to graze hot lips over her skin.

  Continuing along her jaw, he slowly circled her until he stood behind her. Scooping her hair into one hand, he trailed kisses along her shoulders.

  Ana shivered uncontrollably, her temperature spiking to dangerous levels. She fought to stay upright as he traced a breath-stealing erotic path over her skin. Eyes drifting shut, she reached out and grasped the bedpost, harsh pants of need exploding from her chest as she succumbed to the wonder of sensations buffeting her.

  At the base of her spine he lingered, flicked his tongue against her skin just above her panty line. He grasped her hips, his strong hold stamping his desire on her, and turned her to face him.

  Opening her eyes, she stared down into stormy grey eyes. His skin was flushed, his face stark with barely controlled desire. At the back of her mind Ana registered that he seemed as affected by the roiling sensation as she was, but the thought was fleeting. Because she read his intent and every muscle clenched tight.

  ‘No!’

  He paused, his sensual mouth so close to the wet evidence of her arousal. ‘You don’t like the idea of my mouth on you?’

  She shook her head, shivering when her hair brushed over sensitised nipples. ‘It’s not that. It’s just... I’ve never...’

  His eyes registered surprise, then morphed into a calculating, anticipatory gleam. ‘If you’ve never, then how do you know you don’t like it?’

  ‘Bastien, por favor—oh!’

  Shoving aside her thong, he placed an open-mouthed kiss on her, his tongue darting out to lick in bold sweeps. Sensation rocked her, completely sapping her strength. She collapsed onto the bed, helped in no small measure by Bastien’s firm push. She cried out, her back arching off the bed as he suckled.

  Ana should have felt ashamed—embarrassed at the wanton, pagan pleasure she was taking in the act being performed on her. But sheer bliss beyond her imagining had taken over. Her thighs fell apart and Bastien moved between them, his body surging closer as he continued to create magic between her legs.

  Her flesh tingled, tightened with minute, unfamiliar spasms that shortened her already depleted breath. The intensity of her reaction stunned her into screaming.

  The sound spurred Bastien on. He laid his mouth against her, teasing the ultra-sensitive place that finally sent her over the edge. She was vaguely aware of thrashing on the bed, unable to stop the fierce waves of ecstasy rolling through her, or to stop her fists from pounding against the sheets as she broke free and crashed in a blaze of fiery wonder.

  Gentle hands soothed her, brought her slowly back to reality. Opening her eyes, she encountered Bastien’s smouldering gaze. She was lying against the pillows, both legs trapped underneath his more powerful, hair-roughened one. He leaned on one elbow and with his free hand reached up to caress the damp hair away from her temple.

  ‘You’re so incredibly responsive, ma petite,’ he husked out, his voice sandpaper-rough.

  ‘That unbridled passion you hate?’

  ‘That unbridled passion I don’t mind so much in bed. Perhaps even a little bit out of it.’

  He swooped and devoured her gasp. He cradled her skull, imprisoning her, all the better to ravage her lips. Fresh, potent arrows of lust shot through her, invigorating her lulled senses, bringing them back to life. Her moan was smothered beneath their frenzied kiss. Her hands settled on the firm skin of his back. The need to feel every inch of him was a powerful urge tripping through her.

  Bastien made a sound: half-growl, half-encouragement. She traced the skin on the small of his back. When he moaned again she ventured lower, clasped his taut buttocks.

  It was only when he reared over her, settled his powerful frame over her, that Ana realised her panties were missing. Bastien’s thick arousal nudged against her, its hot, potent force sending a momentary pang of anxiety spiking through her.

  Sensing it immediately, Bastien eased his mouth from hers and gazed down at her. ‘You need not worry, Ana. Trust me. I won’t hurt you.’

  Something melted deep inside her. She exhaled shakily, unable to utter a word past the emotional lump in her throat. Reaching up, she threaded her fingers through the lock of hair that had fallen over his brow.

  Bastien kissed his way down her cleavage, changed direction to slowly circle one breast. Waiting for him to reach the hard pinnacle brought its own torture. But finally he took one nipple in his mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut and she gave herself over to her feelings. She touched him everywhere, including that utterly gorgeous hard erection. Her exploration was short-lived when he soon removed her hand and kissed the back of it.

  The sight of him sheathing himself flooded her with renewed need.

  Slowly Bastien lowered himself over her, his gaze capturing hers as he nudged her entrance. Tension, excruciating and urgent, flowed between them, feeding the heady anticipation of their union. A strangled moan escaped her throat as he probed deeper. Her fingers tingled, fluttered closer to hold him. Capturing her hand, he imprisoned it above her head. The thrill of semi-freedom sent a bolt of pleasure through her. With her free hand she clasped his buttock.

  He responded by surging into her.

  Her wince coincided with his gasp of disbelief.

  Ana tried to keep her face blank as his gaze searched hers, but she knew he’d caught her reaction. She closed her eyes as he froze.

  ‘Ana, look at me,’ he demanded hoarsely.

  She lifted her gaze. She’d been expecting disappointment, maybe censure. But she encountered a blistering gaze filled with a hunger that stopped her breath.

  ‘You’re beautiful. Incredible,’ he said simply.

&nbs
p; The words broke something free inside her. Instinctively she moved, sliding her inner muscles along his rigid length.

  A heartfelt groan rumbled through his chest. Acclimatising to the reactions of her body, she moved again, shuddering with the pleasure that came with the minute action. Bastien clasped her hips, stilled her.

  For endless moments he remained still. Then with a harsh groan he surged deeper. Ecstasy rolled through her. Eagerly she awaited his next thrust, her heart pounding when it arrived, more incredible than the last.

  All too soon the tingling began—fiercer, sharper than before. When it swept her away Ana knew she’d only experienced a fraction of pleasure the first time. Hoarse cries seared her throat as she soared higher and higher.

  Bastien plunged deeper, his movements frantic, his skin sweat-slicked as he dipped his head to kiss her. She responded with fervour, her senses clamouring to give him as much satisfaction as he’d given her.

  Their tongues met and he groaned deeply. With one last surge he tensed, freezing for a moment in time before a series of convulsions shook his frame.

  Ana clasped him to her, her chest meeting his hot, damp skin as he settled on her. Against her heart she felt his thunder wildly, echoing her own’s chaotic beat.

  Tu es perfecto.

  She wasn’t sure whether she’d said the words aloud. She didn’t care. She felt too replete, too sated. Her eyelids fluttered, drifted down. She tried to fight sleep, managed a feeble protest when Bastien dropped a kiss on the corner of her mouth and left the bed. But it was no use.

  And Ana’s last thought before sleep claimed her was that her life would never be the same again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HE’D PULLED THE sheet over her when he’d left the bed but now one foot had escaped. Its delicate arch teased him, taunted him with a want he’d hoped to ease by now.

  Bastien stared at it, willed himself not to reach for it.

  Focus!

  There were important things to work through, figure out. He needed to leave, to return to his own bedroom.

  You’re in your own bedroom.

  Hell, he was losing it. His jaw clenched tight.

  Since he’d stepped foot inside that courtroom and seen Ana again everything had fallen off-kilter. He was being buffeted by emotions he didn’t know what to do with.

  His brain especially seemed to be playing tricks on him. Otherwise why would he have imagined Ana’s virginity? And why would the thought have sent such a thrill through him? Why would he be perched on the edge of the bed now, watching her sleep, wishing he could wake her up and experience their incredibly exhilarating lovemaking over and over again?

  He shoved a hand through his hair and started to rise.

  She stirred, lazily stretching, tempting the sheet down a little further. Fire roared through his veins. He had to get out of here. There were several guestrooms where he could spend the rest of the night.

  Seductive eyes opened, focused on him. ‘Is it still night?’

  ‘Yes.’ He steeled himself against the exquisitely languorous look in her eyes and madly scrambled for something to say. ‘How long have you been celibate?’ He hadn’t meant to ask that, but the words spilled out anyway.

  She sat up slowly, pulling the sheet to cover her breasts. He curbed the urge to rip it away, feast his eyes on her—

  ‘My whole life,’ she answered.

  He froze. ‘You were a virgin?’

  The thought confused, astounded...pleased him? He pushed the last feeling away, but it kept returning.

  ‘Yes.’

  He’d been her first. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Why did his voice sound so damned hoarse?

  ‘What difference would it have made?’

  Her voice was sleep-husky, her hair spilling in bed-tumbled disarray over her naked shoulders. The sight of the white sheet against her tanned skin did incredible things to his libido.

  He felt himself slipping under her spell again. Confusion mingled with lust and self-loathing sent him to his feet. ‘A hell of a lot!’

  ‘I tried to tell you—’

  ‘You didn’t try hard enough!’

  ‘But you knew...you must have realised...’

  His mind raced. He’d been eager, uncouth. Like a wolf during mating season, his need had come second to none. He’d been the animal she’d accused him of being. All he’d wanted was to trap her underneath him, feast on her softness and incredible responsiveness. Nothing else had mattered but having her.

  Not even the fact that she’d been a virgin.

  He sank onto the bed, his thigh tantalisingly close to that tempting foot. He swallowed as fire shot through his pelvis.

  ‘Bastien, no one held a gun to your head. You could have stopped any time you wanted.’

  The truth of the statement shamed him even more. ‘No, I’m afraid I couldn’t have.’ Because he’d been too far gone to stop. ‘But if you’d told me things would’ve been different.’

  She licked her lips, sending his heart-rate rocketing. Mon Dieu, he had to find some distance or this thing happening between them would consume him whole.

  Her foot flexed.

  ‘How different?’ she husked out.

  ‘I would’ve been gentler, taken more time and care.’

  You still could... The thought teased the fringes of his mind. Possibilities tantalised.

  Before he could stop himself he reached out and grabbed her foot.

  Her breath caught and her foot arched into his touch. ‘I’m glad you didn’t. Any slower and one of us would’ve resorted to violence.’

  Reluctantly, his lips twitched. Moving closer, he lifted her foot into his lap. Slowly he massaged her soft skin, fascinated by her tiny gasps of pleasure at his simple caress. The sheet slipped lower. With a firm tug he pulled it away.

  She blushed. Unbidden, their conversation on the tarmac replayed in his mind, now taking on a different meaning. Her blushes weren’t a clever tool to entice a man. She blushed because she was genuinely innocent.

  The thought shocked him into stillness. Questions tumbled through his mind and assumptions disintegrated, fuelling his confusion. She wasn’t the wanton seductress he’d thought her to be. She had been a virgin.

  He had no right to be here with her.

  As if diametrically opposed to the idea, his hand tightened around her ankle.

  She responded by flexing her foot directly into his groin.

  ‘Mon Dieu, Ana.’ Desire, fierce and hot, pulsed through him with an urgency that stopped every other thought. His gaze rose along with his temperature, moved over the smooth suppleness of her calf, her pale golden thighs, to the wet glistening of her sex nestling between the triangle of carefully groomed hair. He paused there, heady satisfaction settling inside him at the thought that he’d been her first.

  As if reacting to the heat of his gaze, a delicate shudder raked her frame.

  His scrutiny continued upward. Over her flat stomach up to the soft mounds of her breasts. The sight of her nipples fuelled his need to taste them again. Her chest rose and fell with short, frantic pants that set his own heart thundering. Her swollen lips parted, her pink tongue resting against them.

  When his eyes finally captured hers it was the look in the chocolate depths that floored him. Daring, innocent anticipation. Need. A heady combination that had him discarding her foot along with his intention to leave her be and search out a different bed for the night.

  He’d promised himself one night, after all. He’d stick to that promise. By morning he should be rid of this insane, inexplicable desire for Ana Duval. Once he had it bottled and shelved he could rest easier.

  Rearing over her, he kissed her. She parted for him immediately, her tongue searching out his with a newly gained confidence tha
t threatened to blow him away. She was learning fast, his Ana.

  No. She wasn’t his Ana. She was just his for the night.

  The thought sent a strange bolt of displeasure through him, but not enough to stop him from groaning his satisfaction as her hands closed over his back, her fingers beginning a delicate caressing of his flesh that sent blood surging into his groin.

  He was so ready, so tortuously aroused, he feared he’d explode any second. Pulling back from the kiss to give himself a little breathing room, he dropped light kisses on her jaw, her delicate earlobe.

  And still she continued to wreak havoc with her fingers. In desperation Bastien plucked another condom from the bedside table and slipped it on. He’d promised her it would be different this time, but he wasn’t so sure he could keep that promise.

  But he would try even if it killed him.

  ‘Turn over.’ At least if he wasn’t looking into her achingly beautiful face or dreaming of kissing her senseless he might be able to pull back from the brink of this insanity that engulfed him.

  ‘What?’ Even hesitant, her voice hitched, filled with an anticipation that didn’t help his control one little bit.

  Except the thought of making love to her like this was even headier than taking her missionary-style. He cursed under his breath. He’d started this. He aimed to finish it.

  He lifted a forefinger and slowly rotated it. Eyes wide, alluring beyond measure, she reversed her position.

  If he’d hoped for a little reprieve he was sorely disappointed. Her back—slim, smooth and faintly indented with her delicate spine—taunted him. It dipped to her impossibly small waist before flaring to accommodate feminine hips and a firm, rounded behind.

  Everything about her was elegantly feminine, intensely seductive—especially the way she caught and pulled her hair over one shoulder so she could watch him watching her.

  He bent forward, placed his lips on her first vertebrae. Another delicate shudder racked her body. He kissed his way down, determined not to drown in her moans of pleasure. He reached her waist and spanned it with his hands, glorying in the velvety warmth of her skin as his tongue dipped into the faint dimples just above her buttocks.