Page 27 of The Innocent Carrying His Legacy

‘And you could have chosen not to argue with me.’ Nazir took another step, closing what little distance there was between them. ‘And you definitely could have chosen not to let me touch you.’ He reached for her, settling casual hands on her hips and pulling her close, watching as her gaze widened, her mouth opening in surprise. ‘And you probably could have chosen not to let me kiss you, but, since you’re not moving, I’m going to assume that you’ve made your choice, Ivy Dean.’

‘Oh, but I—’

He didn’t let her finish. He bent his head and took her mouth with his.

Ivy wasn’t sure what was happening. Her feet should have been moving and her hands most certainly should have been pressed to his hard chest and pushing hard. Yet her feet remained rooted to the spot and though her hands were on his chest, they weren’t pushing.

She wasn’t trying to get away from him at all. She was simply standing there, frozen, while his mouth explored hers with a possessive firmness yet gentle delicacy that had her trembling.

She’d never been kissed before, not once. She’d never had a man’s hands on her hips, holding her still. Never been so close to him that his heat surrounded her and his scent clouded her senses. But she was now and it was...astonishing.

His lips were hot as a brand and yet softer than she’d thought they’d be, moving on hers lazily, as if he had all the time in the world, tracing her bottom lip with his tongue then nipping gently on her top lip. Sensitising her entire mouth.

She couldn’t quite comprehend all the sensations that were pouring through her, so much heat and gentle pressure, and a burgeoning ache that stole her breath. The smell of the desert surrounded her, along with its intense heat, and then there was a spicier, muskier scent too that she found inexplicably delicious.

His body was so big and so powerful, the muscles beneath her hands like granite.

He was kissing her. The Sheikh, the Commander, was kissing her.

Her heartbeat thundered, her breath long gone.

His hands slid from her hips, up and up to cup her face between his palms, tilting her head back and then his tongue was pushing inside her mouth in a long, hot, possessive glide.

A flood of heat rooted her where she stood, electricity arcing through her entire body. He tasted...like hot chocolate and brandy, two things she’d always secretly loved, and it shocked her that a kiss could taste like that. That a man could taste like that.

What are you doing? Why are you letting him kiss you?

Both good questions, but ones she didn’t have the answer to, because her brain didn’t seem to be functioning. It kept circling around to the feel of his mouth on hers, the pressure of it, the glide of his tongue as he explored and the burning heat of his palms against her cheeks.

What had she been doing before? She couldn’t remember. Talking to someone about something. She’d been angry too, but the reasons for that were vague.

Everything was vague except for his hands on her, his mouth on hers, sharp, bright, hot points of contact that felt more real than anything else had in her entire life.

A little sound escaped her and before she knew what she was doing, her fingers had curled into the black cotton of his T-shirt, and she was rising on her toes, pushing against him, wanting more of his taste and his heat, wanting more of his touch, because she felt starving, as if she’d been hungry for days, weeks, no...years. She’d been starving for years, never knowing what it was that she was hungry for, and now here was this man, this unbelievably arrogant, annoying man, showing her exactly what her hunger was for.

Him. She’d been hungry for him.

She touched her tongue to his hesitantly, experimenting, and was rewarded by a deep growling sound that seemed to come from him. His fingers on her cheeks firmed, the kiss becoming deeper, hotter. There was demand in it now, and a possessive edge that thrilled her down to the bone.

He wanted her, didn’t he? This powerful Sheikh, with a whole army at his back, wanted her.

The thrill became deeper, wilder. She wanted more of it, more of his taste, more of his touch, and she felt as though she might die if she didn’t get it. She pressed herself to him, intoxicated by the feel of his rock-hard body against hers, the iron plane of his chest crushed to her sensitive breasts, something long and thick and hard pressed against the softness between her thighs, where she ached so intensely.

Oh, he wanted her, yes, he did, and she liked that so much. It gave her a power she’d never experienced before in her entire life.

His hands dropped from her cheeks to her hips once more, then curved down over her rear, squeezing her gently, fitting her more closely against the hard ridge of his desire. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down with care, sending white-hot sparks of sensation cascading through her. She shuddered, gripping onto his T-shirt, pushing herself harder against that tantalising ridge because it felt so good. She’d never known pleasure like it.

Are you insane? You barely know him and yet you’re letting him kiss you senseless!

Her common sense stirred at the thought, but Ivy ignored it. Common sense seemed so far away and boring right now. She felt cold, as if she’d been shut outside a house in the rain and could see through the windows and catch glimpses of a warm fire in a cosy room. He was that fire. He was that warm room. And she’d been outside all her life. Just once she wanted to go inside and be in the heat.

Except then he pulled away from her, leaving her clutching onto nothing, her mouth feeling full and sensitised, her heartbeat raging, her body aching and her skin tight. And she was cold. Cold again.

‘No,’ she whispered, barely even conscious of speaking. She reached automatically for him, but he’d stepped back, out of her reach.

There was a fierce, hungry look on his face, the brilliant turquoise of his eyes no longer so icy but blazing with heat.

‘Stay where you are,’ he ordered, the deep, rough sound of his voice sending yet another thrill echoing through her. ‘Unless of course you want to find yourself on your back on that couch in the salon.’

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