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Said like that, it sounded churlish. “You’re not dead,” she pointed out quietly, her voice husky. “And I highly doubt you’ll be able to forgive yourself for what you’ve just done.”
His face paled. “Out of interest, why do you hate me?”
“Because you loved him. Because you think poorly of me for hating him.” She pushed away from Hakim, a sense of nausea rising inside of her. She stood shakily, and winced, as her body experienced a brief stab of discomfort from newly stretched muscles.
“Are you okay?” Hakim demanded, regretting that he had not been more gentle.
“I’m fine,” she gritted, thrusting her hands on her hips.
Hakim couldn’t help but stare at her naked body, so beautiful, with patches of pink on her soft skin from where his stubble had rubbed her body.
“I do not like the idea that you used me, Phoebe,” he said stonily. “Particularly because your actions have had consequences you do not yet appreciate.”
“Really? What consequences?” She demanded.
“Marriage.”
“Marriage?” Phoebe shook her head, her blonde hair moving like a curtain of disbelief. “There is no way I am marrying you.”
“Ah, there you are very, very mistaken, habibte.”
“No.” The full extent of her situation began to punctuate her brain. She backed away from the bed, her face a mask of fear.
Hakim stood and followed, pacing across the floor with a silent expression of command. His body was so much larger than hers, his strength undoubtedly enormous.
“No is not an option. Think about it. You are in my country. My palace. If you try to leave, I will have you arrested. You have no fortune without my approval. And you have just shown me exactly why you need to remain as my ward, for the time being.”
“No.” She repeated, her body numb, her mind heavy.
“Yes. You are reckless, shallow and vindictive. But you are also the daughter of my Godfather. Having taken your virginity – the virginity you offered to me on a platter, might I add – I owe it to Etienne’s memory to marry you.”
Phoebe lifted a hand to her neck. “I won’t marry you.”
His smile was sardonic. “What other option do you see for yourself, young Phoebe?”
A sob escaped her as she backed herself right up against a wall. “I … You… I know you won’t keep me here against my will. You might be an arrogant bastard, but you’re not a kidnapper.”
“It’s not kidnapping.” He pressed his body against hers, trapping her with his firm, muscular legs straddling her. “You want to be here, don’t you?” He lowered his head and kissed her neck, flicking his tongue against the pulse point that was going wild.
“No,” she denied, but her body was already reigniting with passion. “No,” she pleaded with herself, willing herself to push him away, to deny that she wanted him.
“If I have to keep you in bed until you agree to marry me, I will.”
He lowered his head, taking a nipple into his mouth and torturing it with his mouth and his hands. She let her head drop as a long, slow breath of release escaped her. “You don’t want to marry me,” she murmured, as his hands moved lower, to pin her hips against the wall.
“No,” he said, his mouth grim as he lifted his head to look at her. “But I have no choice.”
He lifted her easily and took swift, determined possession of her body against the wall. Phoebe cried out as pleasure rippled through her. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist, hooking her ankles behind his back.
His hands felt so good against her body, his mouth a balm to what her soul cried out for. “We all have choices.”
“I choose this,” he said darkly, moving within her and sweeping her along with him. Phoebe tore her nails down his back, uncaring that she might be hurting him, uncaring that she would leave marks. She cried out, into the thick, warm, air, with no idea who could hear her, no thoughts beyond that very real, very soul-enlivening moment.
She collapsed against his shoulder as a fierce fulfillment shuddere
d through her, tearing to shreds the last vestiges of who she had believed herself to be.
For, in that moment, Phoebe became a woman who would do just about anything for sex like that. Even contemplate marriage to a man she couldn’t stand, simply because his body could drive hers to such lengths of desperate pleasure.
