Prince Nadir's Secret Heir(62)

                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 body 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.