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‘I don’t count people on fingers,’ Ilyas said, ‘for I will one day be king.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I have shoulders.’
‘So there are separate rules for you?’ Maggie asked, and her question was slightly mocking.
‘Of course there are,’ he said, and then moved the subject back to what they had been discussing. ‘Maggie, you are far from disposable. I would imagine your friends miss you very much and are looking forward to you coming home.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘I am sure that others find your company very pleasing.’
It was an odd thing to say and it begged a question. ‘You don’t?’
‘I find it disconcerting,’ Ilyas said. ‘But pleasing too, though disconcerting would be my first choice of word.’
‘And mine,’ Maggie admitted. ‘I mean, if I had to describe you.’
They were looking right at each other and their mouths were so close she could feel his warmth.
‘But pleasing?’ Ilyas checked.
‘For the most part,’ Maggie agreed.
‘What about this part?’
She knew what his question meant and that he was about to kiss her.
It was odd, but on the very few dates she had been on, the whole time had been spent wondering if it was time for the kiss. And then being disappointed when it was.
None of that applied to Ilyas.
She had known he would kiss her.
Not just in the moment before he did but for perhaps a thousand moments before he had.
It was as if their kiss had been born when his hand had gone behind her head and he had forced her to drink, or even a little before then, for that kiss had felt inevitable.
Necessary.
Yes, his kiss had been waiting for her since then.
And it didn’t disappoint, for Ilyas knew her wants better than she.
Until his hand held her face and his lips found hers, Maggie hadn’t known that it was not a tentative kiss she required, but one that was planned.
And plan he did, for Ilyas cupped her cheeks and looked at her mouth till the flesh there tingled with both want and anticipation. The kiss he gave was not to a closed mouth, for he waited for her lips to part and, when they did, he gave her hungry mouth the firm weight of his.
His mouth moved with hers and the scent of him was enticing. She found that her hands moved to his chest and then upwards so that her arms linked around his neck as she accepted the sensual bliss of his tongue.
Thiswas a kiss, Maggie thought, for it was exactly as it should be. The caress of his tongue was welcomed by hers and the taste of them together was divine.
There was no wandering of his hands; they stayed soft on her cheeks. The only contact he gave was the scratch of his jaw and the full attention of his mouth.
Maggie found herself aching to be held more fiercely, to know completely his embrace, yet he kissed her as if they had all the time in the world.
Theyhadall the time he required, Maggie suddenly thought, for she was, after all, his prisoner and at that crude realisation she pulled back.
