With two long strides, he had her pressed against the wall, his hold still tight in her hair and around her waist, his body hard and hot against hers. His breathing was ragged, the look in his eyes that of a hunted animal. Desperate. Intense.
Her hands were trapped between their bodies, her palms against his chest. And she could feel his heart raging out of control.
He wasn’t unreachable now. Not untouchable or protected. It was terrifying. And it was everything she’d been craving.
He lowered his head slowly, his nose brushing hers, the movement deliberate, unpracticed. She let her eyes flutter closed, waiting. The moment stretched on forever, a small taste of eternity dropped into the middle of time.
Then, finally, he ended it.
When his mouth met hers it was rough, deep and hard. His lips were unforgiving, his tongue boldly pushing between her lips, sliding against hers. This was so far outside her experience. So different from kisses exchanged with careful aristocrats and playboys.
This was not a seduction. This was what it meant to be taken.
And this was where any semblance of stability he had carried with him tonight ended. He was not a man now but a beast. His muscular chest pressed tightly against her breasts, the solid length of his arousal resting against her thigh.
The kiss was bruising, almost painful. The movement of it strange, uneven. It carried with it the desperate quality of a man finding an oasis in the desert, drinking water he’d been deprived of. Absent of skill and social concern. Just the long, frantic satisfaction of a drought that had gone on for too long.
She was being conquered in a fashion that bordered on violence, and the neglected, hollow places inside her allowed themselves to be filled by it.
She was at his mercy, trapped between his body and the wall, held fast to his grip. And she loved it. There was no fear of seeming needy now, because he was holding nothing back. Because he needed her, it wasn’t half so terrifying to prove that she needed this, too. To expose her neediness. How could it be when he was demonstrating that he needed her, too?
She flexed her hips, shifting her position slightly to bring herself in line with his arousal. His grip on her hair tightened when she did, but he didn’t push her away. Her hands were still pressed against his chest, and she used that position to take hold of his tie, to wrench it free of the knot and cast it to the floor. Then she moved on to the buttons on his dress shirt, undoing the top two before sliding her hand beneath the fabric. She’d touched his chest before, and every single time it was a revelation.
Even better now that he was kissing her while she touched him.
His teeth grazed her swollen mouth and she retaliated, closing her teeth over his bottom lip, earning another growl that shook his entire being.
No one had ever touched her like this. No one had ever kissed her like this. And she had never realized how much she needed it.
But she needed more already. Needed that perfectly tailored suit of his on the floor, needed to discard her beautiful gown so that there was nothing at all between them.
She was about to make a move to do just that when she found herself completely bereft of his presence. He had released his hold on her, moving away from her, pacing back and forth.
“Tarek...”
“This is unacceptable,” he said.
The words hit her like an arrow to her heart. “No. It’s perfectly acceptable. We are going to be married. It is not acceptable for you to be with anyone else,” she said, stating a possessiveness she had never once spoken aloud to Marcus, unsure why she was doing it now. “So if not with me, then who is this acceptable with?” Her voice was trembling now, and she despised it. “And when?”
“You test my control,” he said. “That is what I find unacceptable.”
“What do you need control here for?”
“Control is nonnegotiable.”
“In this room?” She gestured around them. “With me?” She pressed her hands against her chest.
“In every room. Always.”
“I’m going to be your wife. You have never been married before, and I assume you’ve been with other women, so I can’t imagine what the issue is.”
“You are not my wife yet.” His words were insistent. Maddeningly opaque.
“But I will be.”
“And when we consummate, it will be then. And it will be in the proper order.”
“Am I to understand that you object to the spontaneity of this?” She was just peeved now.
“Yes. Because I refuse to allow my body to dictate my actions.”