Prince Nadir's Secret Heir(72)

                ‘Unfortunately, I don’t cry.’

                ‘What a surprise. But, seriously, Nadir. I hate to think that you still blame yourself for something that really wasn’t your fault.’

                ‘And I hate to think that we’re going to waste a whole evening while Nadeena is asleep rehashing an event that is best forgotten.’

                Deciding to ignore that, she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Tell me this,’ she began quietly. ‘If this was Nadeena and she had made a mistake like the one you feel you made would you want her to punish herself for it for ever?’

                He pushed himself up from the sofa and paced away from her, holding himself rigid. ‘That’s unfair.’

                The fact that he’d even shared this side of himself with her made Imogen glow. It meant that he trusted her. And maybe it was time for her to start trusting him a little as well. ‘Maybe you’re the one who is being unfair. To yourself.’

                Without thinking too much about it, she went to him and wrapped her arms around his broad back.

                He stiffened but didn’t move away from her and she could feel the heat of his body through the thin cotton of his dish-dasha. ‘I think your mother and sister want you to be happy, don’t you?’

                He made a low sound in his throat that sounded like it came from a wounded animal and her heart felt as if it had been squeezed by a giant fist.

                Acting purely on instinct, she ran her hands across his broad shoulders and pressed herself closer. He didn’t move a muscle but she knew she’d got to him because his breathing quickened just a little. Circling around, she stopped directly in front of him and smoothed her hands over his chest.

                Emboldened by the fierce glitter in his eyes, she reached up and pulled his head down to hers. He yielded but she knew his mind was still in another place. A bad place.

                About to pull back and give him time, she groaned with pleasure as he plunged his hands into her hair and took her mouth in a hungry kiss that completely immobilised her. Dazed at the swift rise of arousal, she pulled at his robe and moaned in frustration when she could find no way into it. ‘These things are not fashioned for easy access, are they?’ she complained.

                Nadir growled and reefed the garment over his head and she heard one of the seams give in his haste to get it off.

                Trembling with excitement, Imogen dug her fingers into the waistband of the cotton pants he habitually wore beneath the dish-dasha but his hands shoved hers out of the way so he could pull at her own clothing.

                Hampered by the delicate khaleeji abaya she had chosen, he cursed in Arabic and she gasped when he grabbed hold of the neckline and ripped it clean down the middle. With her breasts bared to his gaze and his hands, Imogen felt her nipples peak as he bent his head to take one into his mouth. She threaded her fingers through his hair to hold him tight and felt his own skim down over her quivering belly, sucking in a deep breath as he ran the tips of his fingers around the lace between her legs.

                ‘So wet,’ he murmured. Imogen moved against him but his hands drifted to her thighs, gripping her hips as he dropped to his knees and kissed a line down her belly.

                ‘Nadir, I—’

                She didn’t finish her sentence because he hooked his fingers inside her panties to remove them and widened her stance with one hand while he delved between her legs with the other. Almost sobbing with need, Imogen placed her hands on his shoulders and watched as he pressed his face between her legs and stroked her with his tongue. She cried out as he pleasured her, her long hair swinging around them like a curtain as she almost bent double when her orgasm hit.