He resisted her feeble attempts to break free with embarrassing ease and hauled her closer. ‘Let’s see,’ he said with a snarl. ‘Four weekends, around three times a day, more at night.’ His eyes dropped to her mouth and lingered before returning to hers. ‘You don’t have to be Einstein to know that comes to more than a couple of times, habibi. And it was good sex.’
His words and his tone combined to set off a wildfire reaction inside her body.
‘It meant nothing,’ she choked out, still trying to free her hands from within the prison of his. Wishing that his grip was hurting her to distract her from the riot of sensations being this close to him was setting off inside her. She couldn’t seem to focus her thoughts when she became enshrouded in his earthy male scent, the sensitive tips of her breasts rising against the lace of her bra and the deep achy feeling between her thighs reminding her of how it had once been between them.
‘Nothing?’ His soft question had a lethal undertone that had her raising her eyes to his, but she only reached his mouth, which seemed so close to her own that if she held still long enough she was sure she could feel his breath against her lips. ‘Nothing, Imogen? I don’t think so.’
‘I’ll get a lawyer,’ she said breathlessly, yanking harder on her hands, only to find that they were now trapped against his hard chest.
He laughed. ‘From what I know of your finances, you can’t afford a decent babysitter.’
‘Bastard!’
His eyes bored holes into hers. ‘And what court of law is going to side with a mother who kept a child’s existence from its father? Who leaves her baby with friends while she works?’
‘Lots of mothers do that.’
‘Yes, but lots of mothers do not have a child of royal blood. Nadeena is a Bakaani princess.’
‘I don’t think of her like that.’
‘Right.’
‘I don’t!’ she exclaimed at his cynical tone. ‘She’s just an innocent baby to me, not a commodity. And no court in the world would favour a father who thinks like that.’
Nadir arched a brow. ‘You’re not that naïve, surely.’
‘Nadir, stop this, I beg you.’
‘Do you?’
She flushed, remembering the last time she’d said those words to him. It might as well have been five minutes ago for the response of her body. The feeling of being helpless beneath him, her hands held above her head as he’d nudged her thighs wider with his knees, the feel of his silken hardness at that first moment he pushed himself inside her body, that feeling of her softness giving way to all that male strength in inexorable pleasure.
Her body clenched and mortification filled her. She tried to twist away from him now but somehow that only made her more aware of the press of his hips, forcing the hard ridge of his erection into her belly.
Erection!
Imogen’s eyes flew to his. ‘No.’
He gave a hollow laugh. ‘Oh, yes, Imogen, you still turn me on,’ he said thickly. ‘Despite your treachery.’
His head descended towards hers and she shoved against his chest. She didn’t want him—not again. He’d accused her of sleeping with someone else while seeing him—had probably done so himself while he was seeing her—he’d thought they were having an affair that he’d had no trouble ending while she had nearly died inside when he’d walked away from her. She didn’t want him. She couldn’t!
But she did and none of that mattered to her wounded heart when his lips touched hers in a searing kiss that narrowed the time they had been apart to nothing. Still, she attempted to resist him, clamping her lips into a straight line that, in the end, was no defence at all.
Certainly no defence against her own raging need to touch him and be touched by him and when he took advantage of her confusion and drove his tongue into her mouth Imogen was lost. He just felt too good, tasted too good, and it had been so long for her. So long since she had felt the press of a man’s lips. The press of his lips.
All of a sudden she was no longer pushing him away, but drawing him closer. Her hands flattening over the hard muscles of his chest to snake up around his neck, her mouth moving beneath his in an age-old request for more. And he gave it to her. Eagerly. Impatiently. Thrusting his tongue into her mouth and drinking in her very essence.
His other hand came up to cup her jaw, holding her steady. A low groan, more like the growl of a hungry wolf, worked its way out of his throat as he angled his mouth over hers and ravaged her lips as if he was as desperate for her as she was for him.
Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment. The room disappeared. The world. It was just the two of them. As it always had been when they’d come together. Like magic.