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She should’ve burned, or melted, or ignited with him this close to her after all these years, and yet, the moment seemed to spring out of her deepest, wildest dreams, and suddenly, she didn’t know how to be, how to act, in this reality. Did she run or did she stay and see this through? Did she dare steal this moment and live it with all she had, or did she bind herself and back away from a lifetime’s temptation?
Something hard dug into the small of her back, and she pressed herself into it even more, hoping the sharp pain would be an anchor tying her to the ground when all she felt like was flying away. And then he was within touching distance, and she stared helplessly like the naive, inexperienced virgin that she was.
All the roles she’d played in her life at being a brazen seductress who lured men to make bad decisions and led them to their doom hadn’t taught her any tricks or tools to get through this. She hadn’t let any man get this close to her at all, because she hadn’t wanted any man like she wanted Nasir.
If he’d grabbed her and kissed her to prove his point—as so many men had done before, thinking her volatile temper and confident words meant that she would welcome their crude attempts at seduction, if he’d touched her and smiled that infuriating, winning smirk of his as if this was nothing but a game they’d been playing for years, if he’d taunted her with one more word—Yana would have been able to resist him. Could have told herself that after all these years, after all the pining and longing that had become an intrinsic part of her, she was better than he was; she was better than this moment.
His palms on the dark wood on either side of her head, he leaned closer and pinned her like a splayed butterfly with his gaze. And said the one thing that was her Achilles’ heel, that shattered all of her defenses.
“I see you, Yana, the real you.” His breath feathered the side of her cheek in a warm caress, his amber eyes gleaming with a feral glitter. “Finally, I see all of you. And the things I want to do to you...” A self-deprecating sigh fell from his lips. “We’ve come full circle, no?”
So long, for so many years, with so many people in her life, she’d longed to be seen, to be accepted, even as she’d hidden the greedy, needy parts of her away. All her struggles, all her pain, all her victories, all her defeats—had they led her to this moment with this man? Was life worth living, worth beginning at all, if she backed off now?
She braced herself as if one could brace oneself for drowning in a tsunami. Leaning closer, she pressed her mouth to the corner of his. “Test your theory, then.” Then she took that lush lower lip of his between her teeth and bit down and said, “This, however, isn’t surrender.”
Tingles of shock and tendrils of sensation swooped when he returned her favor with a matching nip of his white teeth over her own lower lip. “Ah,habibi, I’ve finally learned my lesson. I’ll never underestimate you again.”
He smiled then and it was a roguish, hungry smile and it built into something more possessive and molten as his hands started moving over her willing flesh and she swallowed all of that, too, along with the heat and hunger of his lips, because he was kissing her and kissing her and kissing her. As if he, too, had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime.
She was spinning stories yet again but even her lies tasted sweeter when he kissed her like that. He tasted of cigars and chocolate and like the darkest decadence she could ever imagine. They went at each other like horny teenagers—nipping and licking and sucking and fighting for dominance, and it was exactly like she thought it would be. But also somehow better.
There was magic in the very air between them and she let it seep into every pore. His jacket was discarded, necklines were tugged aside for better access, for more. His mouth seemed to stamp his possession all over—her lips, her temple, her pulse, her neck, the spot below her ear, and still, he wasn’t done kissing her.
She groaned as he sucked at her pulse, arrows of sensation skittering straight down to her pelvis.
“Who knew such a prickly thing could taste so sweet?” he groaned.
She grabbed the lapels of his collar and pulled in opposite directions until buttons were flying and she could palm the taut planes of his chest and then slide down to explore the ridges of his muscled abdomen. He was warm and hard, with a silky coating of hair that she loved running her fingers through already. She kept petting and stroking every inch of flesh she discovered as he buried his mouth at the crook of her neck and shoulder.
Within seconds he already seemed to know where to hit her the hardest. When he dragged his teeth against the pulse fluttering already at her neck, she groaned and wrapped her leg around his hip.
They stopped then, tuned in to each other on a level that terrified her. He was so deliciously hard against her, and she instinctively rocked herself into him, the need for completion a much more primal drive than fear or sensibility.
Somehow, he’d shuffled them across the marble floor, the cold tiles on her now bare feet a welcome relief against the heat pouring through her. She wasn’t laughing anymore as her back hit the plush padding of the chaise longue that was tucked against the far wall.
Nasir was on his knees on either side of her hips, gazing down at her.
It was a new angle to find herself in, a new angle from which to look at him. Except for the sizzling sparks from the fireplace and the fast, erratic whistling of their own breaths, everything was dark and still and silent.
Reaching her hand up, she clasped his cheek, rubbing the pad of her thumb over that scar. Allowing herself one,only one, moment of tenderness. She wasn’t sure if she would get another chance like this. And she wasn’t sure if she would survive another one anyway.
His nostrils flared when she dragged her thumb to the center of his lower lip and pressed. His teeth dug into the pad before he closed his lips over it and sucked, and she felt the strong pull of his lips somewhere else.
She arched her body, chasing the pleasure, and he granted it. Heavy and warm, the heel of his palm rested against the sweet center of her entire being. She writhed under that warm weight, begging him with her hips to make it more. His fingers snuck under the fabric of her dress, caressing the silky skin of her thighs, and then they were pushing away her thong and tracing the outer lips of her sex.
Sensations and need forked through her, winding her tighter and tighter. Finally, finally, his clever fingers found her most sensitive place, and slowly, softly, rubbed the bundle of nerves up and down.
Her language became gasps and groans and filthy expletives as she chased the tantalizing caress of his all-knowing fingers. “What else do you need, sweetheart? Ask me. Tell me.”
His gaze pinned her in place, a dark need glittering there, when her body itself seemed to be spinning away from her. She rubbed a hand over her breasts, the tight corset covering them adding to her torment and pleasure in turns. “Touch me here, please.”
Bending low, he plucked at the beaded corset and when it didn’t budge, he cut it open with that damned knife he kept on himself all the time. Her entire torso arched up like a bridge rising out of stormy waters as he rubbed one taut nipple between his fingers. “Every inch of you is perfection,” he said, almost to himself.
Then his mouth was at her breast and he was doing some swirly thing with his tongue. His teeth were there, too, and his thumb kept drawing those mindless circles around her nub, and suddenly, she was right there at the edge of the world.
And when she fell, splintering into so many different parts, he held her and kissed her and soothed her and he put her back together again. Yana thought she might already be addicted to those strong, knowing hands, those wicked, wanton fingers and those sweet, taunting lips. And she wondered if she might ever do this with another man, even though she already knew the answer.
But right then, tremors of aftershock still quaking through her in soft ripples, with his scent lodged deep in every pore, with his arms enveloping her in a perfect cradle as if she was precious and fragile, she didn’t care. She couldn’t care about the future or that she didn’t have one with him.
