“And here I assumed you were an impoverished, deadbeat prince,” she said, laughing through her tears. “I have to remember to be nice to you.”
His mouth curved into a smile, the long sweep of his lashes mesmerizingly beautiful as his gaze widened. “Charming the prince for money? Very disappointing of you, Dr. Zakhari,” he said with mock insult, and she laughed some more.
Giving in to the urge that beat at her relentlessly, she clasped his cheek. Traced his jawline with her thumb, the stubble on it rasping against her skin. She heard his breath hitch as she moved her finger to his mouth, saw the warning flash in his eyes, but she couldn’t stop.
His upper lip had a perfect bow shape to it, while the lower one had an indulgent lushness.
She had wanted to touch him for so long, without shyness, without being consumed by her insecurities. Just for how good it made her feel, just for how right he felt. He clasped her wrist, halting her. “Nikhat? Do not—”
She jerked herself up to a sitting position, traced the seam of his lower lip. His breath hissed out, the cushion of his lip soft and warm against her finger.
Her own breath rushing out of her, she slanted her head and touched her mouth to his.
He became incredibly still. If not for the rough rumbling sound he made in his throat, she would have thought him a block of marble, a hot one. Anchoring her hands on his shoulders, she pressed little kisses along the seam of his lower lip, along every inch of his perfect, bow-shaped upper lip. His lips were soft and rough at the same time, sending sparks of heat careening to every tip of her body.
Impatient for more, she licked his lower lip when he exhaled a jagged breath, and then tugged it with her teeth.
And he exploded like a volcano that had finally reached its erupting point. His hands found her hips and pulled her toward him so hard that her breasts slammed against his chest, and she fell onto him sideways. His fingers crept into her hair, held her tightly as he devoured her mouth with his.
He had kissed her once all those years ago. She had been avoiding him, going out of her way to minimize seeing the dark and blindingly beautiful prince she had foolishly fallen in love with.
And one afternoon, he had cornered her in the library where Amira and she usually studied, locked the door behind him and kissed her.
It had lasted maybe be a few seconds before she had pushed him away, shaken and overwhelmed at the maelstrom of sensations it had stirred within her. If that had been a minor tremor in an earthquake, what he did to her today with his mouth was a hurricane.
The scent of him filled her breath, his muscles digging and shifting against her body.
He nibbled her lower lip with a growl that gave her goose bumps, and a lick of heat swept through her, waking up every nerve ending. With his tongue, he laved her, pushing for entrance, and she let him in with a moan.
He licked at the interior of her mouth, tangled with her tongue with such erotic intent that her breasts felt heavy, and a different kind of ache began in her lower belly. Their teeth clanged and scraped, their tongues tangled. She was awash in such sensations, such mind-bending delirium, that it took her a moment to realize he had ripped open her tunic in the front. Her nipples tightened into needy knots as his gaze, hot and erotic, fell on her breasts clad in a lacy black bra.
Her gaze flew to his, and held, a storm of desire gleaming in his. Never wavering from her, he moved his fingers to the seam of lace. The moment his fingers touched her flesh, everything inside Nikhat shuddered, gathered behind that contact, waiting for more.
Because, God, she wanted more.
Twin bands of color streaked his cheekbones, his breath sounding swift and harsh.
Anticipation coiled in every muscle, a feverish heat broke out on her skin.
His face taut with desire, he slowly set her away from him. Nikhat felt his retreat as sharply as if he had slapped her. “So I take it this…this sexual independence is another by-product of your relationship with your colleague?”
She laughed, hiding her unease at the swift change in conversation, and pulled the mass of her hair away from her neck and tied it up with her scarf. His gaze darkened, the stamp of lust on his face flooded her with utter satisfaction. He might hate her, but he desired her still. Even acknowledging that it was an utterly useless response, Nikhat reveled in it. “I am a doctor, and I am thirty years old, Azeez. I don’t find anything shameful about sexual pleasure.”
His fingers tightened over her arm, he dragged her until she hit the wall of his chest. The savage snarl of his mouth, instead of frightening her, thrilled her. “That’s quite a shame, isn’t it? Because eight years ago, I was on my knees, begging for a single kiss. I didn’t touch another woman for two years because I wanted you.”