Page 107 of Trapped By the Maharaja
But his eyes were already closed. His lips, parted only moments ago, were still.
A scream ripped out of her chest.
Elara woke up with a jolt as her heart thudded hard inside her. It was dark inside the room, except for the moonlight that fell through the gaps in the thick curtains.
She felt the mattress dip, and the scent of citrus and sandalwood cutting through the terror of her nightmare. She realized Ram had just returned. She felt the slightly damp heat of his freshly showered body on her back as his muscled arm wrapped around her waist.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, the image of his lifeless body seared behind her lids. With a desperate need to erase the image of him dying and to see for herself he was fine, she turned in his arms.
“Ram...” she whispered.
She saw his darkly handsome face. Before she could think rationally and before her pride or anger stopped her, she kissed him. Her lips crashed against his, frantic and hungry. He froze for a moment, and then his hand came up, fingers tangling roughly in her hair, and he kissed her back with equal ferocity. She kissed him back harder, the terror from the nightmare driving her. Her hands slid down the hard planes of his chest, feeling the powerful ridge of muscle beneath smooth skin.
Pulling her mouth away from his, she continued to kiss. Her lips moved over the hard line of his stubbled jaw and then the powerful column of his throat.
She kissed the pulse hammering at the base of his throat and the thin scar on his collarbone. Her mouth traced a path down his torso, kissing and locking each defined ridge of muscle. His breathing roughened when she nipped lightly at the sensitive skin just below his navel. His hands tangled in her hair as she moved lower.
She reached the thick, heavy length of him. The scent of him, clean soap mixed with his own dark musk, filled her senses. She paused, pressing her lips to the pulsing vein along the underside, feeling the heat radiating from him. Then, taking him fully into her mouth, she heard his sharp intake of breath followed by her name. She tasted him and pleasured him until his fingerstightened in her hair. She lifted her head, meeting his hooded gaze in the dim light. His dark eyes burned with raw intensity.
“I want you,” he growled. “Now.”
She released his throbbing hardness. And then, without breaking eye contact, she straddled him. She took off her thin nightgown and slowly lowered herself, taking him deep inside her. Her gasp mingled with his guttural groan. When she was fully seated on him, she began to move. Her hands braced on his chest, fingers splayed over the hard muscle, anchoring herself as she rode him. He watched, his dark, hooded gaze locked on her face. The intensity of his focus was its own kind of possession, pushing her higher, faster. The tension built, coiled tight in her belly until it snapped.
He watched her fall apart, his expression fierce, hungry. Then, with a growl that vibrated deep in his chest, he flipped her beneath him in one fluid motion.
He drove into her. His gaze held hers, dark eyes blazing with possession and something that felt like a reflection of her own desperate need. His thrusts were deep, relentless, stealing her breath, building the heat again until she shattered a second time, biting into his shoulder. His roar followed, rough and primal, as he buried himself deep inside her.
She felt the hot pulse deep inside her, the shuddering tension in his muscles locking them together. For a long moment, he stayed collapsed atop her, his forehead pressed to hers, breathing harshly against her lips.
Then he kissed her. It was a kiss that spoke of something far more complex than anger or lust. It was soft and tender, and she felt the remnants of her nightmare leaving her mind completely.
He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling hotly in the charged silence. He rolled away, his muscled weight shifting off her. The sudden loss of contact, the cool air on her damp skin, made her shiver involuntarily.But before the chill could settle, his arm hooked firmly around her waist. He pulled her close until her head found its place on the solid warmth of his chest. Soon, her eyes closed and she fell asleep with her ear pressed directly over the strong, steady thump of his heart.
CHAPTER 45
Ram stirred awake, his body instinctively alert even though the palace was steeped in silence. The faint morning light spilled through the tall windows of the master suite. Sanjana was asleep on his chest.
Her dark lashes rested against her cheeks, the faintest crease marring her brow as though she were in the middle of a bad dream.
He remembered the way she had touched him last night, trembling, shaken by her nightmare. She had made love to him in desperation and fear. Even while she submitted to her need, it had awakened something primal in him, a need to protect and possess her.
Once again, he realized how much power Sanjana had over him. She tormented him, and yet consumed him in a way that he was willing to die for her and kill for her.
His mind returned to the darker truths of the night before.
Ram was in the interrogation room inside a jail in the city.
The attacker had sat in the metal chair, his wrists chained, sweat slicking his brow. He had already withstood hours of questioning from Ram’s men, but his silence was a shield. Until Ram stepped in.
Ram hadn’t spoken at first. He had simply removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and struck—one clean punch to the man’s jaw that sent blood spattering across the floor. Then another, to the ribs, hard enough to make the attacker grunt in agony.
Blood stained Ram’s knuckles, but he hadn’t felt it.
He crouched low, his voice cold, lethal. “You’ll break eventually. Let me save us both the time.”
Still, the man kept silent, his swollen lip trembling but his eyes defiant.
Ram’s jaw clenched. He leaned closer, his voice like steel dragged across stone. “You have a family, don’t you?”
