Page 32 of The Innocent Carrying His Legacy

Nazir moved. Pinning her wrists to the cushion above her head, he held them in one hand while, with the other, he reached down and pulled open his trousers. Then she felt the blunt head of his sex slide against the slick folds of hers.

She gasped, twisting in his grip as he teased her with it, leaving her in no doubt about who held the power now. Yet the fact that he had it was no less exciting to her, no less thrilling, because she knew who’d pushed him to this point: she had.

Without any hesitation he pushed inside her, the intensity of his gaze holding hers as she felt her sensitive flesh stretch around him. It hurt, making her catch her breath and shudder in discomfort, but he didn’t stop and she didn’t ask him to. Then the pain was gone and there was only a feeling of fullness, of completion, and a deep ache that made her tremble.

He said nothing, his relentless gaze pinning her as surely as the press of his sex inside her. The lines of his face were drawn tight, the tension in his body making it obvious that he was holding himself back.

She didn’t want him to and the urge to push him harder, further, filled her again. It was either that or she let herself get overwhelmed by his closeness, by the sheer vulnerability of lying here helpless beneath him. And it wasn’t so much about being physically helpless as it was about being emotionally helpless. Because she liked being this close to someone, liked how his heat and strength surrounded her, making her feel safe and protected from all harm. She liked it too much, wanted it too much. And she knew what happened when she wanted things too much...

Ivy tore her gaze from his so he wouldn’t see, but then he said, ‘Ivy,’ in that deep, commanding way, that meant she had no choice but to obey. She glanced back to stare up at him.

He drew his hips back slowly, dragging the long length of him out of her before pushing back in, in a deep lazy glide.

A helpless moan gathered in her throat, the movement sending luscious pleasure spiralling through her veins. She tried to move, wanting more, wanting harder, but he kept her pinned with the weight of his body and a rhythm of deep, slow thrusts with long, lazy withdrawals, making the ache inside her get more and more intense. More and more demanding.

She writhed beneath him, helpless in his grip, helpless against the slowly building pleasure, leaving her with no choice but to surrender to it. So she did, letting it move through her, letting him fill the deep emptiness inside her that she’d always known was there, and yet hadn’t fully accepted until now. And she had to accept it. Because now he was here, she could feel how deep that emptiness was, an aching void that he filled up completely with the hard pressure of his body and the hot, dry spice of his scent, the low rumble of his voice, and the relentless push of his sex inside her. It filled her up with pleasure too and cancelled out the loneliness that had settled in her soul, which she thought would never leave her.

Nazir moved faster and harder, yet still with control, and she felt the seams of herself begin to come apart, but she fought it, because she didn’t want it to end. She wanted to stay here like this for ever, joined and connected to him, surrounded by him, the loneliness of her life nothing but a faint memory.

But then he adjusted the angle of his thrusts, his shaft rubbing deliciously against the sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs, making her shudder, and her grip on herself began to slip. She couldn’t stay like this; the pleasure was too intense, and the knowledge hurt even at the same time as she knew the end of it would be ecstasy.

Then even that thought fractured and disappeared as he shifted again, the movement of his hips turning everything into flame. She shuddered and cried out as the climax hit, the ecstasy of it breaking her into shimmering pieces and tossing her about like glitter thrown into the path of a hurricane She was so lost she wasn’t aware as he moved even harder and faster, chasing his own release until the growl of it vibrated deep in his throat and he joined her in the storm.

CHAPTER EIGHT

NAZIRGLANCEDATIvy as the helicopter flew over the last rocky stretch of desert to the mountains in the north of Inaris. She hadn’t said anything since they’d left the fortress, not even when he’d announced that they would be leaving for one of his private residences located at a famous hot spring in the mountains.

Some time away from the fortress to get to know one another was needed, away from all distractions, and he’d already made arrangements. He hadn’t expected their sexual encounter in the salon only hours earlier, but that hadn’t changed his plans. If anything, it only made them more vital.

Ivy had been subdued afterwards, not saying a word, not even when he’d told her they would be going away for a few days. He’d expected her to make some kind of fiery protest or insist on staying put, but she didn’t. She’d simply nodded her head and let him bundle her into the helicopter without speaking.

It concerned him. The sex had been unplanned, which he would have worried about more if it hadn’t been expected at some point, certainly given their chemistry. And she’d been a willing participant. No, more than that. She’d been desperate.

If I weren’t pregnant with your child, you wouldn’t even have looked twice at me...

Something twisted around him and tightened.

She was gazing out of the window at the landscape rolling beneath them, the late afternoon light hitting the curve of her cheek, making her fine-grained skin look as if it were glowing.

He couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

She’d been so frantic in his arms, so hungry. A passionate woman who’d been starved of affection. Starved of happiness too, he’d bet. And perhaps that was understandable given her background. He didn’t imagine children’s homes were easy places to grow up in, no matter how well run they were.

She wanted to be wanted, that was clear, even as she fought her own desires.

You can give that to her.

He was a commander and a hard one at that, and he gave no quarter, not to anyone. After he and his father had been banished from the palace, his father had made it his mission to cut the softness right out of him, and he’d succeeded.

Nazir no longer felt the intense urges of his younger days, the desperate need for his mother’s smile. The soft touch of her hand in his hair. The look of love that had crossed her face in the brief moments when he was permitted to have time with her, the only sign of affection she allowed herself to give him.

They had been all too few, those moments. Instances of shining happiness and joy. But that was the problem with happiness. Once you’d known it, all that mattered was getting more of it. More and more, like an addict with a drug, until you weren’t sure how you could exist without it.

Better never to have never known it at all, his father had often told him bitterly.

But Nazir had known it. And he’d known softness too, and, though he no longer allowed either of those things in his life these days, he could allow some space for Ivy to have some. It wasn’t her fault she’d been brought up in a children’s home. It wasn’t her fault her friend had died. It wasn’t her fault that a trip to the desert to honour her friend’s last wish had ended up with her being held in a fortress by the father of the baby she carried.

Certainty settled down inside him. Yes, he would give her what he could; he would give her the affection and passion she so obviously craved. He had no dregs of softness left in him, but he remembered it well enough that he could pretend. And if that failed, then at least they had the passion that had burned bright between them in the salon.

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