Prince Nadir's Secret Heir(61)

                ‘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?’