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“No,” he took a step closer, though. “I am simply making you aware of your situation.”
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Her body was vibrating with desire. Even the specter of Etienne couldn’t remove the needs she felt. “My situation,” she responded, stepping closer and bravely lifting a hand to his chest, “Is that you and I will never agree on the kind of man my stepfather was.”
“That is not correct,” he grunted, putting a hand around her back and propelling her back in the direction from which they’d come. “You will not only agree with me, but you will apologize to me for slandering a man I held in such high esteem.”
“You’re dreaming,” she laughed, her heart racing.
He didn’t respond verbally, but he quickened their pace, so that it was only a minute or so before they reached her door. He opened it and none too gently pushed her inside. “Stay here, Phoebe, and think about what that man sacrificed to raise you.”
Oh, Phoebe hated Etienne with a passion, and in that moment, she hated Hakim too. Wanting him, lusting after him, and hating him, were not mutually exclusive she discovered. She wanted to hurt him, and she wanted to hurt Etienne, and Hakim had given her the perfect idea for how to do both. The desire for revenge had come to her out of nowhere. Hakim would never forgive himself for taking the virginity of Etienne’s step-daughter, and if Etienne knew that she had seduced Hakim, he would have been furious. It was the perfect, perfect plan.
“Oh, I won’t be thinking about Etienne, Hakim,” she promised thickly, reaching for the top button of her caftan. She undid it, her eyes unwavering from his. In the back of her mind, she wondered where she’d got the courage up to be so brazen. It must have been adrenalin, she rationalized, as she moved lower, to the next button. “I’ll be thinking of you.”
The third button opened the top wide enough so that she could slide the sleeves down her arms, and let the garment pool at her feet. Beneath it, she wore only a skimpy black lace g-string.
Hakim swore and stepped into the room, slamming the door shut behind himself. “Get dressed, Phoebe.”
“First I have to finish getting undressed,” she pointed out throatily, sliding her fingers into the band of her underwear.
Hakim watched, his eyes hooded, as she slowly eased the tiny scrap of fabric from her body and stepped out of them.
Beneath his flowing pants, he was as hard as a rock. “You expect me to believe you are innocent?” He demanded.
“I can think of a way to prove it to you.” Slowly, she walked towards him, her eyes fixed on his face. She had to look at him, or she knew she would lose courage. Inside, she was a mess of nerves.
“You are too forward, Phoebe,” he grunted, knowing he needed to leave. That if he didn’t leave he would succumb to his body’s deep, dark desires.
Her sense of purpose almost deserted her, but she focused on all the reasons for going through with this. Proving her innocence to this man, for one. Avenging herself of the two men who had controlled her life for another. And the satisfaction she knew this man would deliver, third.
“Don’t you want to touch me?” She asked, grabbing hold of his wrist. Her fingers shook as she lifted his hand and placed it on one of her breasts.
Hakim sucked in a deep breath, as his fingers connected with the warm, smooth skin of her body. Her breasts were heavy and perfectly round, and he had no option but to lift his other hand and take their weight in his palms, feeling their details, rubbing his thumbs over her hardened nipples.
“You do not know what you are getting yourself into,” he promised darkly, enjoying the way her head had tilted back in pleasure already. Yes, she would be a very responsive lover.
“Tell me, then,” she was on a wave of sensation as his thumbs moved across her sensitized breasts.
Hakim pressed his hips forward, so that his straining arousal was firm against her body. She gasped. “I am a very, very possessive lover, Phoebe. I am demanding and I am insatiable. If we cross this line, you will be mine for as long as it pleases me. Do you understand?”
Her body was quivering; she was too aroused to speak. Hakim put just enough pressure on her swollen nipples to make her arch her back, the strange mix of pain and pleasure sending arrows of delight darting through her body.
“Do you understand?” He demanded.
She shook her head, clouds of lust making thought difficult.
“I will expect to have you any time it suits me,” he continued, running his hands down her back and cupping her small buttocks firmly. “When I select a lover, I make sure she is content to meet my needs. I have only one lover at a time, and if you are to be it, I need to know you are up for the challenge.”
Phoebe had the strangest sensation that she had bitten off more than she could chew. But there was no way she would end things now. Her body was screaming at her for satiation.
“I understand,” she agreed, daringly lifting his shirt and touching her palms to his warm, hair-roughened chest.
Relief burst in his chest. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he wanted her to agree. How much he needed to have her, after all.
“Undress me.” It was unmistakably a command. A frisson of excitement ran down Phoebe’s spine. “Now.”
CHAPTER FIVE
