The Santina Crown Collection. Кейт Хьюит

watching as her head tipped back with helpless joy. She made a moaning sound as she came, a low note of uninhibited pleasure which initiated the beginning of his own orgasm. Holding tightly onto her hips, he felt the powerful spasms which swept him up in a mindless spill he never wanted to end.

      Afterwards, his head fell back against the pillow and he felt as drained and as elated as a battle-weary soldier. Yet even as his hand encircled her waist to draw her closer and he found himself breathing in the raw scent of sex, he found himself thinking that this could get addictive. Dangerously addictive. The combined warmth of their damp skin made their bodies seemed glued together and he found himself absently kissing the tangle of her hair as long, silent minutes ticked by.

      He must have slept more deeply than usual because when he opened his eyes, sunlight was filtering through the open shutters and the early-morning scent of roses was powerfully intoxicating. For a moment he didn’t remember where he was, but as he turned to see the sleeping form of Ella beside him, it all came back. Her shy and stumbled entreaty at dinner. A hesitant seduction which had proved inordinately irresistible.

      Yawning, he thought that his senses had never felt so finely tuned, nor so richly satiated. Last night had been, he realised, the most erotic experience of his life.

      More than that, he felt a rare moment of contentment which allowed him to push away the nagging questions which were hovering at the back of his mind. He knew that there were a million things he should be doing. He should rouse himself and move away from the warm comfort of this bed….

      But instead, he picked up a handful of Ella’s hair, watching as it fell in satin tendrils across his chest before bending his lips to her ear. ‘Awake?’ he questioned lazily.

      She wriggled and smiled against the pillow. ‘I am now.’

      He guided her hand towards his aching groin. ‘You are the most amazing lover, do you know that?’

      Ella froze as her fingers encountered the steely shaft of his erection, and in the cold light of day, fear began to run through her veins. What if he now expected her to run through a repertoire of sexual skills—skills she didn’t have, and which would leave him sorely disappointed?

      Before, she had not cared about his good opinion of her but suddenly it became vital that he should know the truth. ‘I’m not the person you think I am,’ she said, pulling her hand away from him. Even though she saw his eyes narrow with disappointment, he needed to realise that she wasn’t the sexual expert he imagined her to be. Not some uber-experienced party girl with dozens of men in her past and a long list of lovers she could barely remember.

      Hassan winced, wondering why women always chose precisely the wrong moment to pour out their feelings. But he was in no position to move. He registered the heavy aching at his groin and realised he was in no position to do anything except … ‘And what kind of person is that?’ he questioned unsteadily.

      She drew in a deep breath. ‘I don’t make a habit of seducing men.’

      ‘I’d kind of worked that out for myself, Ella.’

      ‘You had?’

      ‘Mmm.’ He moved his hand between her legs. ‘Last night you came over as sweet, rather than seasoned.’

      She wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. In fact, it was difficult to wonder anything when he was stroking her like that. ‘Up … up until that night of the party, I’d … well, I’d never behaved like that before.’

      ‘I’m very pleased to hear it,’ he replied gravely.

      ‘I’d only ever had a relationship with one other person. And I went out with him for ages before we had sex.’ Through her growing waves of pleasure, she met the question in his eyes, admitting to herself for the first time that she’d been scared of sex. She’d seen from the example set by her own parents what fools men and women could make of themselves in its pursuit. ‘When eventually we did it, I … well, I tried my best. But I never … never …’ She shook her head, the words sticking in her throat.

      ‘You never had an orgasm before me?’ he guessed as he remembered the way she’d clung to him that first time. And suddenly it all made sense. The breathless little words which had sounded almost like gratitude as she had bucked wildly in his arms.

      ‘Right.’ She looked into his eyes, wary now that she had given too much away. Wouldn’t a man like him hate such transparency? ‘So I misled you. I’m not the woman you thought I was. Are you angry with me, Hassan?’

      His mouth twitched. ‘Absolutely furious,’ he said.

      ‘Seriously?’

      His laugh was low as his fingertip thrummed against her heated flesh. ‘Oh, Ella,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t you know that it’s every man’s fantasy to be the first person to awaken a woman in that way? I like the fact that I am the only man to have shown you true pleasure. That everything you learn will spring from my lips and my loins.’ His voice dipped into a throaty murmur. ‘Shall I show you how good it feels when a man tastes a woman?’

      Shyly, she nodded, her cheeks growing warm as he began to move his lips slowly down over her body. And in that moment she thought she’d just discovered the real danger of sex. Because when a man made her feel this good … When his tongue was licking her in places where she’d never imagined being licked. It was easy to start imagining what it might be like if Hassan loved her.

      And that was never going to happen.

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      ‘HASSAN.’ Ella paused long enough to ensure that she had her husband’s complete attention. ‘I can’t spend much more time doing this.’

      Hassan looked up from his newspaper. The light was flooding into the breakfast room and glimmering off the red-brown curls which spilled over Ella’s shoulders. The silk robe she wore was loose and flowing but the unmistakable swell of her belly drew the eye like nothing else. And the by-now familiar sense of wonder settled over him as he surveyed the blossoming body of his wife.

      The passing weeks had made obvious the unspoken secret within the palace—that the queen was with child. And Hassan couldn’t help but question if that was the reason for his brother’s continuing absence from court life. It was unlike Kamal to be away from Kashamak for so long but attempts to contact him had proved fruitless and Hassan had been forced to accept that his nonappearance was deliberate.

      Was his younger brother hurt that his position as heir apparent might soon be assumed by a newborn baby? Or just angry that Hassan had done what he had vowed he would never do: marry and procreate?

      Yet maybe it was better that Kamal wasn’t here, demanding to know what his position would be once the baby was born. Leaving Hassan to admit for the first time in his life that he just didn’t know. That nothing was as it seemed, or as he had thought it would be. That he had been lulled into a curious state of contentment by the sweet nights he now shared with his wife. A false contentment, he reminded himself grimly, and nothing but a pleasurable distraction while they awaited the birth of their child.

      Because hadn’t there always been the underlying certainty that they would divorce soon afterwards? Hadn’t the thought that she might go back to England leaving their baby for him to raise been his secret desire?

      But he had come to realise that was never going to happen. Sex taught you much about a woman beyond how she liked you to play with her breasts, and Hassan had discovered a dangerously sweet and soft side to Ella which had defied all his expectations.

      Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he looked at Ella’s faintly disgruntled expression. ‘What did you say?’

      ‘That I can’t carry on doing nothing all day!’

      ‘You are bored?’ he questioned.

      ‘Not bored, exactly. More a little restless.’ She shrugged her shoulders, aware of the heavy swell of the baby as she moved. ‘The gardens