Her eyebrows arched. ‘It’s late, Your Highness, and we’ve both said enough. If you’d refrain from manhandling me, I’ll be on my way.’
‘Manhandling you?’ Frustration ignited, fanned into a roaring inferno by guilt and raw need. ‘This is manhandling.’
He grabbed her other arm and swung her round, pushing her backwards. He heard a soft ‘Ooh,’ of surprise as her back hit the wall. Those mysterious eyes opened wide as if for the first time she sensed what it was to be at a man’s mercy.
Not that he’d harm her. He just wanted her to shut up and listen.
Her tongue darted out to slick her lower lip and heat drilled into his belly. It was a habit she had when nervous. The first few times she’d come to his office, only that had given away the fact she knew how precarious her position was, that he’d look for any excuse to get rid of her.
Now, as then, the unconscious movement tore at his self-control. That mouth of hers...
Consciously he relaxed his grip, but not enough for her to slip away. To be sure he stepped in close so they stood toe-to-toe, their breaths mingling.
‘I shouldn’t have spoken like that.’ His words sounded stilted, emerging from stiff lips. He wasn’t used to apologising. He wasn’t used to letting emotions get out of hand or blurting words before he considered them. He was renowned for diplomacy!
‘No, you shouldn’t.’ Her eyes narrowed like laser-sharp sunbeams, scoring his skin. ‘But you’ve made your point and I want you to let me go. I’m very tired.’
Liar. The energy running through her slender frame all but gave off sparks. His hands tingled just holding her through the silken sleeves.
Asim slammed a door on his thoughts before he could contemplate holding her bare flesh.
‘I didn’t mean what you think.’
‘Of course you didn’t. I must have imagined it all.’ Sarcasm dripped from each syllable, but it didn’t quite mask her hurt, and again Asim felt pain stab him in the gut.
He’d known she was affected by recent trauma but how could he have guessed she also had a warped self-image? It seemed impossible that a woman so intelligent and feisty should so underestimate herself.
‘You think you don’t look glamorous and sexy?’ He couldn’t quite keep the disbelief from his voice.
She stood ramrod-stiff. ‘Don’t! You’ve said enough on the subject.’
Asim shook his head, his gaze locked on hers. That fiery stare sent blasts of heat running through his blood.
‘I didn’t say it right. My complaint wasn’t that you looked...’ He searched for a word then remembered her usual camouflaging clothes. ‘Drab.’ He heard her swift intake of breath. ‘It was because you sashayed into the dining salon looking like sex in heels. You turned every male head and sent the ambient temperature soaring.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Her voice was ragged, her mouth tight as she skewered him with wide, hurt eyes.
‘Because you don’t believe me.’
‘Of course I don’t believe you! It’s nonsense. The place was littered with beautiful women. You were surrounded by them. What would it matter if I...?’
Her words petered out and abruptly she turned her head away. Instantly, like a switch flicking off, the current of electricity arcing between them died.
‘If you distracted every man in the room?’ Asim didn’t want to think about that but it was too late. He already knew the answer.
Because he wanted her for himself.
He’d felt sick to his stomach when her companion had spent the evening leering at her. Asim knew every man there had imagined tearing that dress away and having her for themselves.
Inexplicably Asim had felt betrayed. He’d been the only one to know her secret—that beneath those unflattering clothes lurked a delicious body ripe for the plucking. Now the secret was out.
‘Because,’ he ground out, ‘I didn’t want every other man there wanting you too.’
Her face swung back, eyes locking with his, and the shock of urgent hunger slammed into him again.
She just had to look at him...
‘I don’t know what game you think you’re playing but it’s not funny.’ Her voice was brittle. ‘I’ve had enough.’
Asim told himself to release her, to talk to her again in the sterile safety of his office, not in the dim seclusion of the old palace where they were totally, tantalisingly alone.
The trouble was he hadn’t had enough. He hadn’t even started. He felt his control snap and didn’t give a damn.
‘Did you even look in the mirror before dinner?’ Anger roughened his voice. Anger at her for tempting him beyond endurance. Anger at himself.