Then maybe he wouldn’t feel so guilty.
Surely she had a dark side. Everyone did.
He took a step forward, pulled her into his arms and crushed his mouth over hers.
For a second Lani froze, and he half braced for her reaction.
Then her arms stretched around his back and her slim body molded to his. Her mouth softened, opened to welcome his kiss. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his back and drew him closer, until her breasts crushed against his chest.
Surprise and sharp lust flashed through AJ. Lani was kissing him back—hard. Her breath came in unsteady gasps. Heat pulsed between them, urging their heartbeats into a fevered dance. A tiny moan quivered in Lani’s throat as he thickened against her, his desire provoking a fierce arousal. This was not the response he’d expected.
Two
He pulled away first. Lani’s hand flew to her lips, left suddenly cold and bare. She didn’t want to open her eyes but she forced herself. AJ’s dark gaze fixed on hers, wide with—shock.
What just happened?
He’d initiated the kiss, his action deliberate, forceful even. But she couldn’t shake the impression that he hadn’t wanted to kiss her.
Her lips still stung and tingled with stray pulses of energy. Her nipples pressed against the crisp fabric of her dress, above her pounding heart. The hand now pressed against her mouth—hot with her own unsteady breaths—had just a moment ago been fisted into his shirt, clutching at his thick muscles.
Shame flushed through her in a hot wave. He must have kissed her out of a sense of responsibility, to prove he could step into the role everyone expected of him, whether he liked it or not.
And she’d responded in a way that was anything but dutiful.
Was she going mad? She gulped. Her body felt hot, thick with unfamiliar sensation. She couldn’t bring herself to glance at AJ again. He hadn’t moved an inch since he’d pushed her away.
He’d had to push her away, to stop her clinging closer and tighter, pressing his body to hers with a fierce grip. At her own husband’s funeral.
Or whatever you called a funeral without a body.
She must be mad. There was no other explanation. Should she apologize? Anger flashed inside her. He’d taken the kiss—stolen it—so anything it led to was his fault.
Still, no one would have expected her to respond with…desperation.
He’d thought she was too nice. Now he knew she was anything but.
Her face heated and she glanced up. AJ shoved a hand through his thick, black hair. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak.
I’m sorry. The words hovered on her tongue for a single instant—automatic, a learned response—before she swallowed them, bitter and tasteless. She didn’t owe him an apology. She didn’t owe her late husband one, either, for that matter. These powerful men took what they wanted, without a thought for those they took them from. Which is why she didn’t want to marry again—especially not another Rahia.
Her treacherous thoughts pounded in her brain like a headache. If he knew what she was thinking he’d…
Lani gathered her skirt and rushed for the door.
AJ stared after Lani as her gold dress disappeared through the carved archway. He hadn’t said anything to stop her, since he couldn’t think of what to say. He had no idea what to even think. If his mom knew they’d shared such a steamy kiss, she’d probably be over the moon. Or would she be scandalized that it had happened before the funeral feasts were even finished?
He blew out a hard blast of air. He’d expected her to squeal and slap him. To defend her virtue and hurl angry words in his face. To hate him.
Which was his intention. Then she wouldn’t want him to do his duty and marry her. He’d be off the hook.
Instead she’d seemed to…enjoy the kiss.
He shook his head, trying to shake loose a sensible thought. Maybe she’d faked it. As a royal wife—especially his brother’s wife—she must have had plenty of practice faking pleasure when she didn’t feel it.
Still…
The way her fingers had clawed at his back. How her mouth had opened to welcome his, her sweet breath hot on his tongue. He'd even heard a tiny moan, like the cry of a bird, newly uncaged, escape her throat before he came to his senses and pulled back.
His stiff suit barely hid the reaction she'd provoked in his body. His blood seemed ten degrees hotter and his fingertips prickled with stray urges. Probably the urge to rip off that expensive gold dress and sink into the soft flesh beneath.
He hurled a curse. How could he think such a thing about his brother's wife? He hadn't wanted to come back here, and this was a perfect example of why. He lived a nice, sensible life in L.A.—well, by L.A. standards—where things like this just didn't happen.