Nine
It all happened so quickly, Leila was barely able to grasp what Malik had done. One moment they were sitting on the couch, and the next they were upstairs in her borrowed bedroom, with the gas fireplace there coming to life, even as the tapers in their candlesticks of inlaid ebony lit themselves. She lay on the bed, Malik’s weight on top of her, and yet that weight was far from unwelcome. He felt solid and real. Could a being born of myth and legend be so very real?
He had to be, because she doubted a myth would have kissed her like this, strong and passionate, those kisses moving from her mouth to the sensitive skin of her throat. She gasped and arched against him, felt one hand touch the bare flesh of her thigh as it slipped through the slit in her dress. God, his skin was so warm
