It certainly wasn’t planned. All his adult life he’d assumed he’d walk his path alone and he’d been okay with that. After the rigid childhood he’d had where his father’s word was law he had made sure that he had plenty of choices in life that had all been about taking care of himself. It was a selfish existence for sure but it was also safe because he didn’t need anyone and no one needed him in return.
But that had changed now. Now he had a child and a woman he was responsible for and he was determined that they would make a better family unit than his had been. Nothing would make him turn away from them.
Careful not to wake either female, he carefully lifted Nadeena into his arms and marvelled at how small and how fragile she was. He nuzzled her downy dark hair and breathed in her sweet baby smell.
A smile curved his lips as he recalled how Imogen had tried to put him off marrying her by telling him that babies were smelly. They were but in a good way.
They were also a lot cuter than he’d ever noticed before and he grinned when he placed Nadeena into the cot and she promptly sprawled onto her back with her arms flung out to the sides, her tiny mouth moving as she resettled into sleep.
Feeling comfortable that she wasn’t about to wake up, he turned towards Imogen. She had shifted more onto her stomach, her leg hitched high on the bed. If he’d been lying beside her that leg would have been draped over his hips and his groin hardened predictably. He wanted her and he didn’t mind admitting it. Sex was normal. Healthy. But deep down he knew what he felt for her went beyond sex. For once he didn’t try and stop his mind from drifting back to the way things had been between them in Paris. Carefree and passionate. Relaxed and somehow contented. Contented?
His mind processed the thought. Had he really been contented when he’d been with her in Paris? When they’d been strolling together arm in arm around the city just like any other couple in the world? He remembered ignoring those feelings at the time and putting them down to sex. Lust. Passion. But, looking back, he could see that he’d felt completely at ease in her company. Relaxed and, yes, contented. And then another startling thought gripped him. He didn’t want her to endure their marriage. He wanted her to want it. He wanted her to want to make it work as much as he did. He wanted her to want him.
He rubbed his eyes and for the first time he wondered if he was doing the right thing by forcing this marriage onto her. But what else could he do?
She made a sound, almost as if she was having a bad dream, and called out his name. Nadir stilled. In his mind’s eye he saw her rising from the bed, her short T-shirt riding high on those shapely legs before she reached him and wound her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers as she had done so many times in the past.
Naturally enough, she didn’t do that but she did call out again and Nadir found himself crossing the floor to her side.
‘Imogen?’ He reached down and placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. ‘You’re dreaming, habibi.’
He thought he’d spoken softly enough not to really disturb her but her eyes flew open and she blinked and the little frown line appeared as she stared up at him.
‘Where am I?’
Despite the warning in his head telling him she was tired and needed sleep, he didn’t stop himself from reaching down and placing his finger against the frown line. ‘It’s okay. You’re in Bakaan.’
She made a small sound and pushed up into a sitting position. She wasn’t wearing a bra and he couldn’t keep his eyes off the gentle sway of her breasts. ‘Imogen.’ Her name was more like a groan on his lips when he caught her staring at his mouth.
By Allah, he wanted her. Wanted her more than he’d wanted any other woman in his life. More than he’d wanted anything at all for a long time and, as if in slow motion, he reached out and took hold of her hand and tugged her up onto her knees.
She rose to him, all sleepy and pliant, and his mouth swooped down to capture hers in a sweet, lingering kiss. He felt her hands flutter close to his jaw and snag on the stubble of his beard growth. He’d need a shave if he was going to stop himself from marring her pale skin but more than that he needed her and for the first time ever he didn’t feel concerned by that driving need.
Something had been slowly changing within him since he’d found her again. He didn’t know what it was but it was almost as if a piece of his life had slotted into place. Impossible really, given how out of synch his life was right now but still...the feeling persisted.
Not wanting to disturb Nadeena, he broke their kiss and tugged her towards him. When she clung to his shoulders he swept her into his arms and strode out of the bedroom.
‘Nadir?’ She wriggled and he let her slide down the length of his body until she found her feet. But he didn’t immediately let her go.
‘I want to make love to you, Imogen. I want to take you to my bed and show you how well this can work between us. How good it can be again.’
The words were raw, his voice almost hoarse with need. Her eyes widened and even in the low-lit hallway he could see colour rising high on her lovely cheekbones.
She swallowed and pushed the tumble of her hair back from her face and he just wanted to bury his hands in it. He just wanted to kiss her. So he did.
* * *
As soon as his mouth touched hers, Imogen felt her body catch fire and soften against him and all thoughts of the past and the future dissolved. How was it possible to feel so much for one person? To want so much from one person? And then she couldn’t think any more. Just feel—her heart ruling her actions.
Moaning, she gripped his hair in her hands, letting her body melt against his. This was what she had craved for so long. This aching pleasure only he could give her. And like this they were equals with no past and no future. Just the present.
Pressing closer, she felt Nadir fall against the wall, his laugh husky as his hungry mouth worked its way down her throat. Imogen arched and rose onto tiptoe, her lower body aching to join with his.
Driven by a deep yearning, she clawed at the yards of fabric that made up his robe and felt him turn them both and press her against the wall, his hands pushing up the hem of her T-shirt and hastily dragging her panties down her legs and then finally, blissfully she felt him cup her and she almost dissolved as he parted her slick flesh and delved between her legs, his fingers and thumb gliding over her and into her and stroking her in all the right places.
‘Nadir, you—’
‘Imogen, habibi, you drive me—’
She shifted and he grunted, wedging his knee between her thighs to hold her upright while he parted his robes singlehandedly.
Imogen tried to bring her hands down to help him but he effortlessly held her high against the wall, his upper body powerfully hard beneath her fingertips and then he brought her down over the top of him and she heard a loud keening sound as his smooth, thick hardness opened her up and penetrated deep inside her body.
He swore. Maybe she did too and for a minute they were both completely still, suspended between two worlds, both adjusting to the exquisite sensation of being joined together.
Then he tangled one hand in her hair and tugged until her dazed eyes met his. The skin on his face was pulled tight, his eyes glittering with a hunger that sent shivers racing down her spine. Those eyes said that this time together would not be gentle or slow. That it would be fierce and urgent and uncontrolled. That she would feel him plunge into her with every fibre of her being and her body pulsed in anticipation.
‘Is this okay?’ His question was a panting growl and tinged with desperation as if he was having trouble holding himself back. ‘I mean you had a baby not long ago and—’
Imogen wound her legs around his waist and hugged him tight. Now that she had given herself over to this it was all she could do not to let the fire inside burn her up. ‘It’s fine. Please, Nadir—’
He crashed his mouth down over hers again, his tongue thrusting deep as he gave her what she craved and moved powerfully inside her. In no time at all Imogen felt her orgasm building and writhed against him, forcing him to press one hand against the wall to hold them both upright and then she was there, on the pinnacle of that exquisite release she had only ever experienced in his arms, their mouths fused together as if their lives depended on it. Imogen opened her eyes at that moment to find him watching her and the connection was so elemental it hurtled her over the edge into a place filled with bright lights and dizzying heights. And then it was all too much and she threw her head back and let her release rush through her on long exquisite pulses. Seconds later Nadir’s grip on her hips tightened to the point of pain and his thrusts grew brutal just before he threw his own head back and bellowed her name into the still night air.
The comedown from the desperate rush to orgasm was slow and noisy, both of them panting hard to catch their breaths.
Nadir raised his head from where it was now buried against her neck. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes. Out of shape, but good.’
Nadir gripped the underside of her thighs and hoisted her legs higher around his waist while he remained buried deep inside her. ‘You’re not out of shape, habibi. You’re perfect.’
‘Where are we going?’ she asked quickly as he carried her down the hall.
‘My bed.’
‘What about Nadeena?’
‘I’ll leave the door open.’ He strode inside the room and didn’t even bother with the light as he collapsed with her onto the bed.
Imogen tilted her head back and felt the silky fabric of the comforter against the sensitised skin of her back. Part of her knew that she should get up but her body felt as if it was on fire, renewed desire coiling through every cell, and all she wanted to do was wrap herself around Nadir and not think about anything right now. Not the future that seemed so insurmountable and not the past which was tinged with the bittersweet memories of first love and then the utter despair of rejection. Right now her body just wanted his, needed his, and she was powerless to resist.
Not that Nadir was exactly giving her time to question his demands as he kissed and licked his way down over her collarbone towards her breasts.
Before she could object, he raised her T-shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor.
‘This time we do it a little slower,’ he said gruffly. ‘And I might even throw in a little finesse for good measure.’
Imogen laughed at his playful words and then suddenly felt self-conscious as she realised where his mouth was headed. ‘Nadir, stop. My breasts aren’t the same any more and I’m feeding.’
He batted her hands away and rose up on one powerful arm to peer down at her, his other hand drawing lazy circles around the outer swells of each breast before cupping each one in turn. She felt her nipples peak and rise up eagerly for his touch. ‘I don’t care. You’re beautiful, Imogen.’ He lowered his head and laved one nipple lightly with his tongue, making her gasp with pleasure. Nadir grinned. ‘I love that you can feed our child. I love that your nipples are slightly darker than before.’ His head bent again and he blew across one straining tip. ‘I love your taste. The way you feel.’
Lost in his words and his touch, Imogen’s arms rose up again to mould his sinewy shoulders and cling to the taut wall of muscle at his back. It was that untamed, unrefined side of him, encapsulated within sleek, sophisticated masculinity that had always drawn her to him. Had always drawn every woman to him.
Forgetting about the past, she inhaled, pulling the wonderful scent of sweat and man deep into her body. ‘I love the way you taste too. Take off your robe. I want to feel you against me.’
Nadir didn’t need any further urging and within seconds he had come down over the top of her again. Naked. A gloriously prowling male in his prime. Imogen’s breath caught at the sight of his thick length jutting hard up against his ridged abdomen. He was so potently virile. So unselfconsciously male he took her breath away.
‘Like what you see, habibi?’ he drawled lazily.
‘Comme ci, comme ça.’ She pretended to yawn.
He growled at her cheekiness and pushed her thighs wider with his knees. ‘I’ll give you comme ci, comme ça,’ he whispered roughly, reaching beneath her to angle her bottom up better for his penetration.
He groaned as he sank into her warm, willing flesh. ‘I was going to take this slow but now...’ he thrust forward and Imogen clung to his arms, her fingernails digging into his hard biceps to anchor herself against him ‘...now I just want to plough into you and make you scream. How’s that for finesse?’
‘Finesse is so terribly overrated.’ She gasped out each word as he did exactly what he said.
He grunted his pleasure, his gaze hungry as it raked over her face. ‘Tell me if I’m too rough?’
Imogen shook her head and brought her hands up to cup the hard planes of his face, her fingers stroking over the rough bristle on his jaw. ‘No. Give me more. I want more.’
‘Ah, hell, Imogen. Habibi.’ His words of praise became more urgent and mixed with Arabic as he drove into her over and over and over until they both fell apart with the extent of another mind-blowing orgasm.
Finally sated, Nadir bent down and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. Then he rolled onto his back and took her with him, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder and it was as if no time had passed at all. She could almost hear the sounds of Parisians dining and chatting and going about their business from the open window of his apartment. But time had passed and it had created a chasm and her chest tightened as she thought about getting up and going back to her own room. If only she wasn’t feeling so weak, ripples of her release still coursing through her lax body.
‘What?’ he asked as if he sensed her tension.
‘I should go back to Nadeena.’
He gently tugged her still damp hair out from under his arm and stroked it back against the pillow. ‘Stay. I’ve missed holding you like this.’
His admission startled her and set off a warm glow as if a cluster of fireflies had set up house inside her chest. ‘Me too.’
She felt him place a light kiss against her hair and turned her face into his throat.
‘Then sleep. I’ll check on Nadeena in a minute.’
She wanted to protest, she wanted to say that she needed to do it because she always had and Nadeena’s safety was her responsibility but Nadir rolled her onto her side and spooned her, his big body swamping hers and cocooning her in the most delicious warmth and a deep lassitude invaded her already weakened limbs and turned her limp. It was blissful, this feeling of being utterly taken care of, and no doubt—if she let it—highly addictive.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
OR IT COULD have been highly addictive if it had continued. But of course it had not, Imogen thought glumly as she stretched to place her nose against her knee, her groin muscles protesting the once effortless stretch.
They had made love twice more during the night, once fast and another time slow and indulgent, his fingers drifting and stroking over every inch of her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her and then in the morning she’d woken up to find him gone.
At first she’d not minded, stretching her overused muscles and indulging in sensual recall. Then she’d realised that she couldn’t hear anything and that she’d overslept for the first time since she’d become pregnant and had raced out of bed, pulling on her T-shirt that had been wedged half under his giant bed and set off down the hallway to find Nadeena’s cot empty.
Slightly panicked, she’d then rushed into the living area to find Tasnim and Maab taking care of Nadeena at the outdoor table. Relieved, she’d pulled up, taken her smiling daughter into her arms and hugged her, the rush of relief bringing with it the subtle aches and pains in her b
ody that brought her awareness back to how well loved she had been the night before. Then she’d glanced around for Nadir. Tasnim said that he had given Nadeena the small amount of milk left over from when Imogen had expressed the night before and told them not to wake her unless it was absolutely necessary.
As if on cue, her breasts had tingled and she’d sat in a shaded lounge chair and fed her daughter. And waited for Nadir to return.
She’d sat there with a secret smile on her face and thought that maybe she’d been wrong to leave Paris so hastily fourteen months ago. That maybe she’d been wrong not to have realised that he would want what was best for her and the baby.
That had been yesterday morning’s thoughts. Now, another day and a half later, Imogen was wishing that she had run further fourteen months ago and that he’d never found her because, apart from a note sent to inform her that he would be in late last night, she hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
It would have been the classical wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am scenario except for the fact that she still had an enormous ring on her finger that she was sure someone would hack off to obtain if she ever ventured out into a public place with it on.
She glanced at it now, wondering why she still wore it.
It wasn’t because she was under any illusion that the man who had given it to her genuinely cared about her. And it definitely wasn’t because she thought he craved her company as much as she stupidly craved his. Not that he’d ever know that was how she felt. No, she might have felt her heart crack open a little when he was touching her, kissing her, making love to her, but his behaviour over the last two days had sealed it back up with more precision than a blowtorch. And to think she’d imagined that she was falling for him all over again. Thank goodness she’d disabused herself of that errant notion.
And yes, on some level she knew she was being unfair to him because of his current issues in Bakaan but she knew he had a reputation for working hard. Working hard and playing hard. So she knew this was just a sign of her life to come and she didn’t like it. He made her feel like an afterthought while she found herself wanting so much more from their relationship. More than he clearly did.
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