Page 31 of The Innocent Carrying His Legacy

She shouldn’t have exposed herself by asking him why he’d ever want someone like her, as if it mattered, as if she cared in any way what he thought of her.

As if you want him to want you.

Well, she couldn’t lie to herself, not now. She did want him to want her, and it was perfectly obvious that he did. She could feel the evidence of that pressing against the tender flesh between her legs, where he’d touched and stroked and brought her to the most incredible climax.

She could feel the echo of it through her body now, in the flashes of pleasure that made her shiver and shake. God, she’d never felt anything like it. All she’d wanted was to get as close to him as she possibly could, have him relieve the intense, maddening ache, and he had. His kiss had blinded her, his touch overwhelming her. Sex had always seemed vaguely messy and a little distasteful to her, certainly nothing worth bothering about, and yet the way the Sheikh—no, Nazir—had run his hands over her, touched her... Well, suffice to say her views on it had changed.

But she didn’t like how emotional it had made her, how the simple feel of his fingers twined in her hair, his gaze searching hers as he told her things that couldn’t possibly be true, made her eyes fill with tears.

Stubborn and aggravating, he’d called her, and yet those things hadn’t sounded like flaws. Passionate didn’t sound like a flaw either. No, he’d said them as if they were things he liked, things he thought were desirable, and then looked surprised when she’d accused him of lying. She should never have said that. Because telling him the truth, that no one had ever wanted her, no one had ever found anything remotely desirable in her so why would he, felt as if it was stripping all the protections from her soul and opening it up for his perusal. And his judgment.

She didn’t know why she cared. She didn’t know why she cared that he wanted her. None of this should affect her emotionally and yet it did, and she didn’t want it to. What she wanted was more of that heat, more of that intense, incredible pleasure, not more discussion.

I’m going to take you... And once I do, you’ll be mine. And it will be for ever...

That had scared her; she couldn’t deny it. And not because she didn’t want to be his, but because she had a terrible feeling that she did. That she might tell herself she’d been quite happy no one had ever adopted her, but the truth was that, in her heart of hearts, she’d always wanted to belong to someone. And it was a constant wound in her soul that no one had ever chosen her.

Except he had. And a part of her wanted to surrender to him, wanted to be his. Yet she knew it wasn’t really her that he wanted, but the baby she carried. He didn’t feel anything for her but protectiveness because she was pregnant, possessiveness because he was territorial, and lust because he was a man.

None of it was about her.

Did you really think it was?

No, but she didn’t want to think about that and she didn’t want to compound her error by answering his question. She didn’t want to talk at all.

‘No, I don’t think you would.’ She arched her back, lifting her hips and pressing herself against the long, hard ridge that nudged between her thighs.

He let out a hissing breath, fire catching in his eyes. ‘What are you doing?’

The pressure and heat of his hard-muscled body pinning hers down was insanely distracting, and it didn’t escape her notice that, while she was half naked, he was still fully dressed. She wanted to touch him the way he’d touched her, explore the contours of that broad chest she’d caught glimpses of the first day she’d met him when he’d turned up in a robe.

‘You wanted to take me, so take me.’ She twisted in his arms, trying to pull his T-shirt up. ‘I don’t want to have a discussion about it.’

The fire in his eyes leapt higher, giving her the most delicious thrill. She’d never thought that desire could be powerful, that she could use that power, and that she had it over him. Yet it was clear that she did. The flames burning in his eyes gave it away, as did the tension in his body, and she was suddenly filled with the strangest urge to push him, to exert her power and see what his breaking point would be.

‘Little fury,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘If you don’t stop doing that, I will not be responsible for what might happen.’

‘Stop doing what?’ She tugged on the cotton, her fingers grazing the hard plane of his stomach. His skin felt smooth and velvety, like oiled silk. ‘And you’ve already told me what’s going to happen and I’m fine with it.’

He muttered something that sounded like a curse then grabbed her hands, taking her wrists in an iron grip and pinning them down on either side of her head.

The restraint was strangely exciting, making her want to pull against it and try to escape, but the weight of his body on hers was impossible to shift. And that was exciting too.

‘No.’ His voice had deepened, an avalanche of jagged rocks. ‘Keep still.’

‘Why?’ She arched her hips, the hard length of his sex rubbing against her soft, damp flesh and striking the most intense sparks of pleasure through her entire body. She couldn’t believe that she was feeling hungry for more, not after that last climax, but it seemed as if she was. He was hard everywhere that she was soft and the contrast intrigued and delighted her. She wanted to be overwhelmed by sensation again, to lose herself in heat and the rich, dark spice of his scent. She wanted to lose herself in him.

‘Because you’re a virgin,’ he growled, clearly at the end of his patience. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

Well, sex did hurt the first time—or so Connie had told her, and she’d heard that from other people too. But then afterwards it didn’t, so what was the big deal?

‘You won’t hurt me,’ she said impatiently, rocking against him again. ‘And I don’t care anyway. It’s just a first-time thing.’

‘As if you would know.’ He made another exasperated sound deep in his throat. ‘Stop moving, Ivy.’

But the sharp order only excited her further, because she could see how close to the edge he was and it was thrilling. It was she who’d done that to him, wasn’t it? Ivy Dean, the girl nobody had wanted, the girl nobody had chosen, was turning this powerful man inside out. And she loved it.

‘Make me,’ she whispered.

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