Completely powerless, Farah leaned her hot face against the rough cool wood and listened to her heart hammering inside her chest.
* * *
Zach steadied his uneven breathing as he held the little wild cat hard against the door, his eyes shifting to the cut on his arm. It stung but he knew it wasn’t deep because he’d felt her pull back at the last second. Really he should have disarmed her straight away but he’d been enjoying sparring with her too much. She was good—no match for his strength, but she was nimble and he’d felt that same exhilarating spark he had felt riding with her in the desert. It had been a long time since he’d felt this energised, this alive, and he wondered how much of it was the sense of danger or the woman before him.
As if sensing his distracted thoughts, she suddenly bucked against him to try and dislodge him and Zach pressed her harder against the wood. It occurred to him that she might have more weapons on her and that he’d need to pat her down before he released her. The thought brought an image of his hands drifting over her lithe body, shedding her of her clothes as he went, and he hardened in anticipation. He cursed silently. For some reason her body acted like a lure for his and he was fast running out of plausible explanations to justify it. As far as sex went, he usually had to like a woman to want her.
He eased back slightly and barely fought the urge to shift his stance so that his erection could nestle against her rounded backside. By Allah, that would feel good, soft and warm, and if he bent his knees a little he could push himself against the apex of her thighs. With his attention so acutely consumed by her femininity, he thickened even more, aching with a need he was hard-pressed to remember feeling before.
He unconsciously breathed in her sweet scent from the oils used in her bath and he felt a sharp sting against his shin for his efforts. The little wild cat had kicked him and even managed to get a hand free as his hold had unconsciously slackened. By Allah, he needed to get a grip.
Restraining her once more, he leaned in close. ‘You would have done better if you’d used that agile little body against me for pleasure, Farah, rather than trying to fight me,’ he goaded.
Cocoa-brown eyes rounded, sparking with a mixture of fear and anger. And something else. Hunger? Need? He drew in a sharp breath. What would she do if he just said to hell with it and kissed her until she was moaning in submission as he’d wanted to do earlier in the harem, moaning for him to take her and pleasure her as no man ever had before?
‘I would rather boil myself in oil than try and entice you,’ she spat.
Normally Zach had no trouble controlling his libido—his emotions—but this woman could incite a monk to forget his vows. ‘Liar,’ he said against her skin. He wanted to turn her so that he could feel her curved into him and before he could think of all the reasons why that wasn’t a good idea he had her in his arms and his mouth slanted over hers.
He kissed her hard and mercilessly and he didn’t stop when she hissed a noise against his lips and thumped his shoulders. He didn’t stop as she squirmed to get away from him and he didn’t stop when the voice of reason rang out a warning inside his head.
This thing between them had started the minute she’d put those slender fingers in his mouth, maybe even before, and he was uncaring that this was something he would normally never do—uncaring about anything but having her surrender to him. Of having her wind those long legs around his hips so he could satisfy the primal need that owned him and made him want to own her.
When she moaned as if he was hurting her, it penetrated the fog of surging testosterone and he raised his head to look down at her. Her cheeks were flushed bright pink and strands of her silky hair clung to her neck. Her eyes looked too large for her face and her lips were moist and swollen from where he had ravished them. She looked wild and wanton and with every panting breath she took her breasts rose temptingly against his chest.
Shaken by the strength of his reaction to her, Zach thought about releasing her right up until the moment her pink tongue stole out of her mouth and swiped his taste from her lips. It was then he realised she was no longer struggling against him and that her eyes were trained on his mouth in a way that said she wanted more. And, by Allah, so did he.
With a pained groan he lowered his head and once more touched his lips to hers, only gently this time. He wanted to take his time to savour her lips, to feel their texture and taste their unique flavour. He wanted to feel her meet him halfway and he made a guttural sound deep in his chest when she tentatively rose against him in an innocent quest for more. Zach couldn’t remember a kiss ever feeling so intimate, so good, and he fell against her, pressing her back into the door.