The Innocent Carrying His Legacy

by Jackie Ashenden

  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.

  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

  NAZIR GLANCED AT Ivy 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.

  He was careful not to allow himself to think about why her happiness mattered to him. It was a redundant question anyway. It mattered because she would be his wife and, besides, the well-being of any soldier should be a commander’s top priority. How else could they perform at their best?

  But she isn’t one of your soldiers.

  Nazir thrust that particular thought away as her scent wrapped around him, soft jasmine and a delicate, muskier perfume that made his mouth water, that made him remember what it was like to have her beneath him, twisting and writhing, her small hands pulling at his T-shirt, trying to touch his skin.

  He was no stranger to power and yet the particular power he’d felt as he’d pushed inside her had felt new to him. She’d looked up at him, her eyes widening in shock and a flicker of pain that had gradually given way to pleasure...and wonder and awe and fascination.

  Awe he got from people frequently, along with fear. But never wonder or fascination. As if he were a delicious secret, or a captivating mystery she was impatient to get to the bottom of. And she hadn’t seemed to care about how controlled he’d had to be so he wasn’t rough with her. In fact, she’d seemed more than keen to incite him further, to push him, to test his control...

  Anticipation gathered in his gut, thick and hot, along with a dark, primitive kind of need. He wanted very much to chase her, to take her down as a lion took down a gazelle, bite the back of her neck as he drove himself into her, hard and rough and—

  But no. He wasn’t going to surrender to those needs. He’d beaten the hungry part of himself into submission and he would never allow it off the leash again.

  The helicopter soared over the mountains, some capped with snow. The hot spring and the mountain valley in which it lay were in a beautiful place, gentler than the desert and a much kinder place for her than the harsh sun, intense heat, and a medieval fortress full of soldiers.

  ‘Oh,’ Ivy exclaimed softly, her gaze out of the window. ‘There’s snow.’

  With an effort, Nazir brought his attention back to the scenery. ‘Yes. The mountains are at a high enough altitude. It’s particularly lovely in winter.’

  She gave him a fleeting glance. ‘Explain why we’re going there again?’

  ‘I did,’ he said patiently. ‘Were you not listening?’

  ‘No.’

  There was a tart edge to her voice, which pleased him. Clearly his little fury had come out of her subdued mood. He hoped so. He preferred her fiery, because that at least he knew what to do with.

  ‘So we can have some privacy to discuss a few things in more pleasant surroundings,’ he said.

  ‘The courtyard and the salon were perfectly pleasant.’

  He watched her face and the guarded lines of it while she stared out of the window instead, retreating back into her no-nonsense armour, and he had the sudden, wicked urge to crack that armour. To shatter it entirely so the warm, vital woman inside it could breathe.

  ‘You know what was perfectly pleasant?’ He kept his tone deliberately neutral. ‘You screaming my name as you came.’

  A fiery blush swept over her cheeks. ‘That was a mistake.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ he disagreed. ‘It was most pleasant indeed.’

  Ivy flicked him a disdainful glance before looking once more out of the window. ‘For you, perhaps.’

  Stubborn woman. When was she going to drop that armour and surrender? What was the key that would unlock her?

  Ah, but he knew that already. He’d unlocked her in the salon, as she’d lain beneath him panting and desperate. She hadn’t been fighting him then. Then, she’d surrendered.

  ‘Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy it?’ Again, he kept the question neutral, all the while watching her like a hawk. ‘Or perhaps you let me believe something that wasn’t true?’

  Her blush deepened. She let out a soft breath and this time when she turned to look at him, she met his gaze squarely. ‘No. I didn’t let you believe something that wasn’t true.’

  ‘So you enjoyed it, then?’ He would have that from her. He would.

  ‘I...’ The soft shape of her mouth hardened a second, then relaxed. ‘Yes,’ she said with all the reluctance of a woman admitting to a painful truth. ‘I did enjoy it.’

  Intense satisfaction spread out inside him, as if that admission had been everything he’d been waiting for.

  ‘Good.’ He held her gaze, letting her see how pleased that had made him. ‘Because I intend to do it again...and often.’

  Her cheeks had gone a very deep red, but she didn’t look away from him this time. ‘And if I don’t want you to?’

  Well, she wouldn’t be Ivy if she agreed to everything he said.

  ‘You don’t have to keep fighting, little fury,’ he murmured. ‘Sometimes you can rest.’

>   ‘Don’t call me that.’

  ‘I’ll stop calling you that when you stop being so furious.’

  ‘I’m not furious.’ Yet her hand had clenched in a little fist where it rested on her thigh.

  He was filled with the strangest urge to put his hand over hers to soothe her. His mother had done that once, when he’d been young and his father had come to take him away, the brief, stolen moment he’d had with her at an end. He’d protested, too young to heed his father’s warning to be quiet, and so his mother had said softly, taking his hand in hers and holding it, ‘Don’t cry, my darling boy. I’ll see you again very soon. Until the next time, hmm?’ Then she’d given him a little squeeze, as if transferring some of her warmth into him.

  He’d forgotten that. Forgotten how that had comforted him. Perhaps that would also help Ivy. So he lifted his hand and enclosed her small fist in his. She jolted as he touched her, her eyes widening.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Nazir said quietly. ‘I like it when you fight me. But fighting without purpose will only tire you out and it achieves nothing. Save your energy for the battles that matter.’

  She stared at him and for a second the helicopter was full of a tense, electric energy. ‘Does sex not matter, then?’

  The question hit him strangely, like a gut punch he hadn’t seen coming. Because no, sex had never mattered to him before. It was like eating and sleeping, essential to his physical well-being, but ultimately just a bodily function. And it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that. Yet somewhere deep inside him, he knew that was a lie.

  Sex had never mattered before. But it did now. It mattered with her. And why that was, he had no idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie and tell her it didn’t.

  ‘I always thought it didn’t,’ he said, ‘up until just a few hours ago.’

  She frowned. ‘Just a few hours ago? But just a few hours ago...’ She stopped, realisation dawning. The guarded, almost defiant expression dropped from her face entirely. ‘You mean it matters because of...’ She trailed off again, as if she couldn’t bring herself to complete the sentence.