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‘Answer me,’ he demanded. ‘Do you still want me?’
Her breathing was ragged, her features tense, but he could already see the truth in her eyes, and the rush of arousal surged.
‘I…I do still want you,’ she said at last, her tone anxious but not unsure.
It was enough.
‘Good,’ he murmured in the Kholadi dialect as he bent to scoop her into his arms.
He marched through the suite’s living area and into the palatial bedroom—the light from streetlamps outside flickering over her dark skin. He didn’t turn on the bedroom light before stripping off her clothes then tearing off his own. He watched her watch him as he rolled a condom on the massive erection.
He would have her now and he would find a way to keep her, for as long as it took to feed this hunger and take this inexplicable yearning away.
And then they would part, and he would never have to feel so unsettled or desperate again.
He cupped her breasts, licked the areolas, then sucked the swollen peaks into his mouth as he tested her readiness with his fingers. She sobbed and arched into his hand, the feel of her slick folds, the swollen nub enough to drive him a little crazy as he grasped her thighs, positioned her hips. He sank to the hilt in one thrust. Her muscles contracted around him in spontaneous orgasm. He set up a deep driving rhythm, wanting her to come again, to come apart in his arms.
He wasn’t that little boy any more, alone and afraid, marked and then discarded by his own father and made to feel he was nothing.
He was a man, a chief, a prince, a business tycoon and everything he wanted he could have—if he fought hard enough for it—until he didn’t want it any more.
He picked up the pace, going deeper, taking more. He wanted all of her. All her pleasure, all her desire, all her passion. Her moans turned to frantic sobs as she clung to his shoulders. Her nails raked over the slight scar from the wound she’d caused, but he welcomed the sting as he held onto the edge and ruthlessly worked the spot he knew would drive her wild.
The madness—to own her, to possess her—overtook him as the climax gripped the base of his spine. She massaged his length, the spasms of her second orgasm forcing him over the edge. The titanic climax exploded along his nerve-endings as he buried himself deep one last time and let himself tumble.
But as he rolled off her, his body shaky, his mind dazed from the intensity of the orgasm, he could hear the cry of that forgotten child clearly inside his head begging…
Don’t leave me.
Before he managed to smother it again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KASIA TREMBLED, feeling dazed and disorientated and exposed as she watched Raif stand up.
He didn’t speak to her, didn’t even look at her, as he strolled to the door of the bathroom then disappeared inside. She heard the toilet flush, could see his reflection in the wall of mirrors as he washed his hands, having discarded the condom.
The sudden rush of insecurity she’d thought she had conquered a lifetime ago made her shiver.
Maybe you are not as unlike your mother as you want to believe?
How could she have given in to the rampant desire—again—when so much between them was in turmoil?
Not so much. Everything. Everything between them was in turmoil.
He hadn’t wanted her apology for the wound she had caused—and genuinely didn’t appear to blame her for all the pain and suffering he had endured after his ride to follow her, even though she was finding it hard not to blame herself—and he hadn’t repeated his demand that they marry.
But what would happen when she told him about the pregnancy?
He wasn’t the same man he had been when she’d left Narabia five and a half years ago. In many ways this man was even more of a stranger than the man to whom she’d given her virginity.
Why hadn’t he told her about the drastic change in his circumstances while they were in the desert? She sat up and wrapped the bed sheet around her naked body, taking in the luxury suite, the magnificent views of London’s landmarks across the Thames.
She lifted her dress off the floor with shaking fingers. She really ought to leave. She needed more time to consider how she was going to break the news to Raif about his impending fatherhood and shore up her own defences.
‘What are you doing?’
She whipped around, her dress slipping through her fingers. He stood silhouetted in the bathroom doorway, his broad shoulders cutting out the light, completely unconcerned by his nakedness. She noticed the livid scar above his right hip from the emergency operation he had required and shuddered.
