Page 80 of The Pakhan’s Hidden Heir

I scoff, lurching off the bed to stomp toward the door. How presumptive of him to think this marriage is real at all, that I’d want to “consummate” anything with him. “

You pig,” I hiss as I pass him, but he snatches my elbow and pulls me back, pinning me against his body.

I forgot how difficult it is to say no to him, how strong he is and how right it feels to be in his arms. But this isn’t right. He shouldn’t think he can treat me like this. My hands lash out, smacking him in the chest until one hand fists in my hair and arches my head back, and his lips crush my mouth in a searing kiss.

I fight it at first, pushing at him, groaning into his mouth. I think of biting his tongue, but the invasion is so bittersweet I can’t pull away. Ingrid said he suffered, that he was miserable while I was gone. But so was I. I was crushed and heartbroken thinking the man I loved hated me.

“No,” I tell him, but inside I’m not sure I want to say no. I’ve wanted this for years, right? Convinced myself I don’t need him, pushed him away in my thoughts so much I stopped dreaming about him. But here he is, and my body still remembers him, still responds to his touch.

“Shut up and kiss me, Raina. We have the rest of our lives to fight about this.”

His lips crash into mine again. I start to melt little by little letting him claim me, because I’m angry, but I don’t hate this. Then the tears start, bittersweet tears of anger over the way things went, how they could’ve gone. And all mixed up with what I want, and why I’ll never have it.

“You could’ve just asked, you know? I wanted to marry you six years ago. I would have…and you were so cold. You made me think you didn’t want me.” I cry harder, until I taste my tears as his lips roam my neck and his hands start to pull at my clothing.

“I’m asking you now to get in my bed and let me have what I’ve been dying for the past five years.” That does it. His words unravel everything I’ve tried to convince myself wasn’t true. I hook my hands around his neck and lift, wrapping my legs around his hips as he hoists me up and walks me to the bed.

My legs stay wrapped around his hips as he settles over me, pressing me into the messy bedding, and I pull him closer, my fingers threading through his hair.

“You think you can just take what you want?” I whisper against his mouth before our lips meet in a deep kiss again. I can’t stop the tears from coming. I love this man too much to just stay angry with him. He’s only reacting like this because of what I did to him.

His hands slide under my sweater, pushing it up inch by inch. “I’m taking what is mine.” He tugs it over my head and drops it aside. His fingers work the button of my jeans. “You’re my wife now, Raina.”

I push at his jacket, helping him shrug it off. “This doesn’t make everything right.” My breath hitches as he peels my jeans and underwear down my legs.

I kick them away while he removes his shirt and pants, keeping his boxers on briefly.

His body returns to mine as hot as I ever remember it being—and swathed with more dark ink.

“It will.” His mouth claims mine again, as his hand slides between my legs, slicking me with my own moisture. “Feel how your body knows me still?”

I rock against his touch, panting as his fingers find my clit. “Bastian,” I moan when he slides a finger into me, then adds a second, curling them and thrusting. I grip his shoulders tight. “I shouldn’t want this.”

“But you do.” He keeps the rhythm steady, his thumb circling the sensitive spot my apex. It steals my breath and makes my body jolt and twitch. I miss this. I miss him.

I reach for him then, sliding my hand into his boxers and wrapping my fingers around his length. He groans against my neck as I stroke him, feeling him grow harder in my grip. “I need you,” I tell him, almost begging. It’s been too long and feeling how much he wants me is too arousing.

He pushes his boxers down and kicks them off, settling between my thighs, where I guide him to my entrance. “Now,” I say, and he pushes in, sliding through my slick moisture easily. He’s right, my body still remembers this and still desperately wants him.

“So tight,” he growls against my neck before he starts to roll his hips, slow thrusts at first that gradually build. I wrap my legs around him, pulling him deeper.

“Harder,” I whisper, meeting each thrust with my hips.

The friction sends sparks through me, building heat between us until I’m panting and moaning.

I strain with my hips to get his angle right, and when it hits it makes me shudder.

His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he drives into me and I run my hands over his back, feeling the muscles shift under my palms every time they flex.

“You feel perfect,” he murmurs between kisses, but I can’t respond. All I can do is moan and tense, hoping climax crests soon. I’m desperate for it.

I tighten around him, drawing a low groan from his throat that makes goosebumps rise all over my flesh.

He quickens his pace, thrusting deeper, and I arch up to take all of him. My fingers dig into his shoulders as the sensations intensify.

I lose myself in the way he moves, the way our bodies fit together. Thoughts of the past and the hurt try to surface, but I push them down, focusing only on this moment, on him. “Don’t stop,” I tell him, breathing raggedly.

He reaches between us, finding my clit as he continues to thrust. The combined feeling pushes me toward the peak, but I hold off, wanting to feel him first. His movements grow more urgent, his hips snapping faster and I meet him thrust for thrust.