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We pull into a parking lot at the tip of the Cap, the darkened silhouette of the shuttered Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat on the rise behind us and the sea crashing on the rocks below. The Club Dauphin nestles among the winding paths and gardens just above the shore.

Surprisingly, there's a guard at the gate to let us in. Glowing lanterns illuminate the path. The glass funicular awaits, and we descend to the pool and restaurant below.

A liquid world of moonlight and water spreads around us; soft music plays and a candlelit table for two awaits us in front of the sea: everything immaculately prepared for a romantic poolside dinner for two. The rest of the open-air restaurant is deserted. Perhaps guards are stationed on the perimeter to make sure we won’t be disturbed, but there's no visible restaurant personnel. On this magic night—just Abdul and I.

The rich can live out any fantasy imaginable, and tonight Abdul has orchestrated the most sexy and romantic setting for seduction.

Caviar and blinis, thin slices of smoked salmon, slivers of perfect oysters, crisp ice-cold Chablis Premier Cru and pink Cristal—everything perfect! I already feel my G-string stirring; trying to untie itself and slither down around my ankles as Abdul plies me with aphrodisiacs, and pours delicious nectar down my throat.

The man is seriously good at seduction, I realize as he stands up and holds out his hand to me, saying, “Come dance with me in the moonlight, habiba.”

I comply, wrapping my arms around his neck. I sway in his arms to the soft samba beat as Abdul's hands roam over my back before settling on my hips and drawing me closer. The thin fabric of our clothes separates us, however I can feel his erection rubbing against my belly as he molds me closer to his muscled frame. Arousal flares and my nipples tighten against his hard chest. His smell—clean and crisp—like a desert wind coupled with his body heat is magnetic. The sexual chemistry crackles in an arc between us. All synapses firing, desire fizzes and zings along my nerve endings.

For a second Julian's face flashes before me, and then I'm transported back to our erotic interlude on Midsummer's Night. I feel torn for a moment: guilty to be contemplating taking another lover. But I shake off the distraction in annoyance. That interlude was just a Midsummer Night's fancy—a dream—no matter how much I may wish otherwise. The harsh reality is Julian left me. Abandoned me during these frightening times. He's a ghost lover: all I have of him now are my memories.

While Abdul here is flesh and blood—right here, right now. And if I need a reminder of that fact, the kisses that he trails down my neck, then across my shoulders, and his thumbs slowly circling my right nipple decides it for me. “Go away, Julian,” I order his ghost, silently. “This is none of your business. Tonight's for me!”

Resolute, I look up into Abdul's impossibly handsome face and find his dark eyes watching me. My breath catches as his lips meet mine and deepens into a slow, sensuous kiss. I feel his hands on the straps of my dress and I read the unspoken question. For the last time I hesitate, then let him lower my bodice and slide the silk down over my hips until I'm standing naked before him, except for my G-string.

His eyes hold mine captive as he undresses, tossing his clothes and mine onto a chaise lounge next to the pool. Under the moonlight his body is chiseled with muscle with not an ounce of extra fat. A fine trail of black hair trails down to his groin where his sex juts in full erection.

Abdul takes my hand, leading me down the steps into the cool water of the pool. The water feels like silk as it slides over my skin. The full moon cast a path of light on the sea, so close it seems, I could pluck it like a golden peach from the sky. I float on my back, my hair fanning around me as Abdul dives under water. Then I feel his hand close around my ankle, and I'm being hauled in until I come up against his warm flesh. His hand fists in my hair, drawing my head back; my throat vulnerable and exposed. I feel his teeth scrape along the column of my throat and then, his mouth feasts on my breasts.

I half-open my eyes, and see the stars wheeling overhead. I hear a moan like a sigh on the wind, and realize it's coming from me. Yes! This is what I want—what I need, I think as Abdul's fingers find the sensitive bud between my thighs. Then, he slips a finger inside me, finds that secret sweet spot, and commences some wicked magic. Lust and desire floods my core in a liquid rush as Abdul silence my moans once more with his lips.

The cool water lubricates our bodies and buoys us as our flesh slips and slides against each other in a sensual water ballet. It doesn’t hinder the heat building between us though; a passionate brew of lust and arousal, with a hint of betrayal. Because the truth is—no matter our intense physical attraction for each other—both Abdul and my heart belong to others. But in this moment, I don't care. I welcome the heat of passion and attraction between us. For this one night, I want it to burn through me, scorch me and obliterate all my regrets over, and memories of Julian—my uncertainties and fears.

Abdul's kiss goes on and on as I feel my climax building under his expert caresses. He breaks off the kiss and watches me through his long lashes, and I see a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes at the moment that I surrender to the exquisite ache and shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Come, I want to be with you somewhere more private,” he commands as he leads me from the pool and wraps a towel around me. He grabs one for himself. Hand in hand, we follow a stone path through the garden to a tented cabana. By this time I'm so well and truly seduced, I'm putty in his hands.

Inside I find more candle light, champagne cooling in an ice bucket, soft sheets and rose petals strewn across the bed. Abdul pours me a flute and we lie down. And yet in that moment, I can stop it from going any further as Abdul says:

“I want you so much, Maya… but are you sure?” he murmurs, while his fingers tracing lazy circles ever higher on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Then, I feel his fingers teasingly brush back and forth against my sensitive and already aroused clitoris.

I can't answer. I can only stare, hypnotized, into his dark, hooded eyes, the half-smile that plays about lips and his white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. Shivers of delight ripple along my nerve-endings. I moan from sheer pleasure, as his caresses became more and more insistent.

When he adds: “I want to taste you on my lips, baby,” something shifts in his gaze. The half-smile is gone and in his eyes there's a hunger—darker, possessive—sexy as hell. Heat floods my belly. My toes curl up in surrender.

.I think at that moment, if he tries to stop making love to me, I will have to find my handbag, get the Glock out and force him at gunpoint. I'm that far gone.

Instead I murmur yes, as Abdul dribbles champagne over my navel, straight down my pelvis, over my mons Venus and between my thighs. I can feel the bubbles of liquid fizzing in a trail along my skin. Then his lips and tongue follow the trail as his hands grip my hips and pull me closer to his mouth. He licks and sucks the sensitive bud—I'm writhing on the bed, my hands clutching the sheets, begging for more—until the feel of his hands roaming over my body, his lips and tongue, makes me forget everything else. My body drowns in pure sensation. My heartache over Julian and misgivings over having an affair with a married man—swept aside.

When, he eases inside me I'm slick with desire and my flesh welcomes him, but Abdul's lovemaking changes abruptly. Now it's pure male dominance and lust; dark and powerful as his thrusts plunge my depths. I cling to him—this relative stranger—whose smell and taste and body I crave.

Abdul growls against my lips, “You're so wet for me, baby…” I hear the arrogance in his words but am lost in the mad whirl of lust he evokes. I want only to feel him inside me, filling me completely, and follow him wherever this madness leads us. I'm on the edge of release, my orgasm gathering itself inside me when Abdul's tempo increases again—the urgency in his thrusts pushing me over the edge. I explode as I hear his cry of triumph in the same instant. For long seconds, our bodies covered in a sheen of sweat and sex remain fused as one. Then we collapse into each other and crash back to earth…

In the aftermath, I hear our harsh breathing; Abdul's weight pins me to the bed. He rolls off me and pulls me into his arms. I'm astounded by my reaction to Abdul's lovemaking. There's really only one word for it—mind-blowing! So I have to agree when Abdul says with a rueful smile, “I better be careful, habiba, you could become addicting…”

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