He dragged his mouth against her throat, open and searing, infusing her skin with delirious need, whispering words she couldn’t understand. Sharp, spiraling pleasure forked through her lower belly.
Ripped of even a semblance of sanity or control, she moved up over him in an age-old instinct, rubbing the crease of her aching core against his hardness. One large hand stayed on her hip, kneading possessively while the other cupped her breast.
Wet heat from his roving mouth branded the skin at her neck, her nipple tightening boldly against his palm.
Shivering and shaking, she sank her fingers into his hair, draped herself over him like a clinging vine.
“Too long, I’ve needed this for too long, habeebti...”
Then he was whispering words of reverent praise into the valley of her breasts, his hands running over her arms in soothing strokes as if she was a filly he had to calm and then he was sinking his hands under her blouse, and his big, rough palm came to rest on her not-so-flat-anymore midriff...
And the world froze. Their gazes collided while their breaths huffed noisily around them.
Heavy and abrasive, the weight of his palm scorched her. “Your body is...” he sounded stunned as his gaze ate her up “...different already?”
Lauren jerked back so hard that she fell out of his lap, onto the floor. The edge of the coffee table hit the back of her head and she gasped as pain thudded through the back of her head and to the front.
And then she was scrambling away from him, so afraid that he would catch her, so afraid that she had no defense left. So afraid that he would want no more from her than sex, that he would never give more of himself to her, that one day, he would be done with her and walk away.
And to wonder why he had, it would become the vicious cycle of her life.
But there had been such longing in his gaze when he had gentled his hand on her abdomen, such a deep hunger in that unguarded moment.
It was like handing her a grenade in the middle of a war.
If she had to admit defeat, if she had to give in, she would make sure he paid a price, too.
Yes, something inside her roared.
Make him pay for your surrender.
* * *
His obsession with her was becoming dangerous, Zafir realized as he panted hard. The scent of her swirled around him like a net, ensnaring his senses, obliterating rationality.
Swollen and pink, her mouth was tempting enough to give his soul over. Her breasts fell and rose fast, her lithe body bristling with emotion.
She looked like a wild deer, cornered but defiant.
All he’d wanted was to bury himself in her willing body, escape the relentless fury, the powerless grief that continued to ravage him as he sat by his father.
All he’d wanted while the politics and power plays continued around him was her. Only this sensuous creature that pierced the loneliness, the only one who had seen the real him. And wanted him.
“Come back here, Lauren,” he said smoothly. “I want to confirm you’re not hurt,” he said, gritting his jaw when she stepped back again.
Something chased across her angular face. Not need, not fear, but challenge.
He felt like the wild thing in her eyes had electrocuted him.
“You don’t have to chase me, Your Highness,” she said while she grabbed the small opening of her blouse with both hands. The rip of the thin cotton was like a tribal drum in the silence. “I surrender,” she said so softly and yet in a voice that carved through him.
The edges of her blouse fell away, exposing the curves of her plump breasts cupped in white silk, the dainty dip of her waist, flaring into hips he had anchored himself on so many times. The shadow of her dark nipples was barely hidden by the silk. Color streaked her cheeks, and her neck.
Slowly, he brought his gaze to her face, something in her stance dousing cold water on his need.
“You win,” she declared, and his ire rose slowly.
He didn’t want her like this, like spoils of a war he’d won. “What the hell are you talking about?” he said cornering her.
But this time, she didn’t step back. Stubborn chin held high, she stood her ground.
She pushed the blouse off her shoulders and reached for the hem of her skirt. “Should I shower and ready myself for you or do you need instant gratification? You want to have me here or on the bed?”
The breath knocked out of him as if someone had jammed a fist in his throat.
“Enough, Lauren.”
“No. This is what you are turning me into. Tucked away in this palace, cut off from the world, waiting on tenterhooks, wondering if you’ll see me again...wondering what my child’s place is going to be in your world...”
“I would love her or him more than anything in the world.” He heard the words after he spoke them, realizing the truth.