Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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Emir said.
She was less than flattered. A bit of jealousy wouldn’t go amiss—after all, she had just been out with her ex.
‘Am I supposed to take it as a compliment that you trust me so much? For all you know—’
‘You could take a thousand lovers, Amy.’ It was Emir who interrupted now. Emir who walked to where she stood. ‘But each one would leave you empty. Each one would compare poorly to me.’
‘You’re so sure?’
‘Completely,’ Emir said. ‘And you could sit through a hundred dinners and dates and your mind would wander even as the first course was served.’ He stood right in front of her, looked down at her, and spoke the absolute truth. ‘Your mind would wander straight back to me,’ he said.
And, damn him, he was right. Because tonight all she had thought of was Emir, her efforts to concentrate and to listen had been half-hearted at best.
‘And when you were kissed,’ he said, and put his mouth right up to hers, ‘you would crave what another man could not deliver. Because my mouth knows best what to do.’
She closed her eyes, opened her mouth to deny him. For there must be no future for them. She was going to say that she would find love again—except his tongue slid into her protesting mouth and he gave her a taste, and then he drew his head back, warned her again of the life she would lead if she did not say yes.
‘You would miss me for ever.’
‘No,’ she begged, though she knew he spoke the truth.
‘You would regret the decision for the rest of your days.’
‘No,’ Amy insisted, though she knew he was right.
‘We will be married,’ he concluded, through with talking. It had taken what felt like a lifetime to come to his decision, and now that he had he wanted it sealed.
He pulled her tighter to him, so close she could hear his heart—not galloping, but steady, for he knew he was right.
His hand lifted her chin and he looked down at her mouth. ‘There are so many kisses we have not had.’
He lowered his mouth and tender were the lips that met hers in an unhurried kiss that reminded her of nothing—for this side of him she had not met.
‘This is the kiss I wanted to give you one morning when I saw you walking in the gardens.’ His mouth claimed her for another brief moment. He ran his hands down to her waist and his lips tasted of possession and promise for later. Then he he let her go. ‘That was the kiss I wanted to greet you with when you joined the party.’
‘What is this?’ She would not cry in front of him. She had promised herself. Yet she was failing. ‘Guess the kiss?’
‘Yes,’ he said, and she started to cry.
He held her again and his mouth drank her tears. He held her as he had wanted to, comforted her as he had wanted to after the breakfast, when Clemira had said Ummi and her heart had ached for a baby of her own. He held her as had wanted to that day.
‘You will never face it alone again,’ he promised, for he knew his kiss had taken her back to that day.
Then he kissed her again, both hands on her face, and it tasted of regret. She was leaving him again. They were back at the palace and he was letting her go. His arms were around hers and his tongue met hers. He was ferocious as he rewrote that moment—he kissed her back to his world. Then he kissed her hard and with intent, and this was a kiss she recognised. His tongue was lavish in its suggestion and he pulled her into him, to let her feel his want. His hands moved over her body. This was a kiss that could lead only to one thing. Except he stopped.
He looked down to her mouth, which was wet and wanting. He did not believe in negotiation—not when he knew that he was right. He would get his way. ‘You will return to Alzan and we will be married.’
‘You don’t just tell me!’ Amy said. ‘And that’s hardly a proposal. You’re supposed to get down on one knee.’
‘Not where I come from,’ Emir said.
He took her hand and held it over his erection. She kept her palm flat, but that did not deter him. He moved her hand up and down, till her fingers ached from not holding him, till all she wanted was to slide down his zipper and free him.
Free them.
‘You can say yes,’ Emir said, ‘or you can kiss it goodbye if you care to.’
She could not help but smile as his usually excellent English wavered.
‘You mean, kiss it all goodbye.’
‘No,’ Emir said. ‘I mean exactly what I said.’ And he pulled her into him. His mouth found her ear. ‘Either way I bring you to your knees.’
And he would, because she could not be without him.
‘Say yes, Amy.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Then you can’t have me.’
He confused her, because he kissed her again.
He kissed her mouth when still she questioned. He kissed her eyes closed when she tried to look at all that lay ahead. He kissed her until she was in the moment—kissed her all the way to her unmade bed. He did not bring her to her knees; instead he lay her down and removed every piece of her clothing.
First he took off her shoes, and when she sat with her arms by her sides he raised them.
‘Emir …’
‘Tell me to stop and I will.’
Her hands stayed in the air as he took off her top.
‘Tell me we should not be together,’ Emir said as he unhooked her bra, ‘and I will go.’
And she felt his eyes on her breasts and she wanted his mouth to be there, but still she stayed silent, so he unzipped her skirt and pushed her back on the bed. When he pulled at the hem she did not lift her hips to help him. He stared down at her and it did not deter him. Instead he undressed himself.
He took off his jacket and placed it over a chair, took ages with each shoe, and as he pulled off his socks Amy found her toes curling.
‘You do not get me till you say yes.’ With a cruel lack of haste he removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He gave her plenty of time to halt things but still she did not and he slid off his trousers and hipsters and stood over her, naked. ‘I can’t hear you, Amy.’
‘Because I haven’t said anything,’ came her response, but this time when he tugged at her skirt she did lift her hips. How could she not say yes to him? How could she not be his wife? She tried to look to the future, when she would surely regret this decision, but yes waited to spill from her mouth.
He took off her panties so she was naked, and still she would not give in.
Emir kneeled between her legs, kissed up one thigh and then back down, and then he turned his attention to the other one till she writhed beneath him, wanting him there at her centre. He didn’t play fair. He played mean. He lifted his head and focussed instead on himself, and she watched, fascinated, desperate. He stroked himself right there at her entrance and she watched, wanted. He would make her comply.
‘I can’t wait for ever,’ he warned.
And he was right. There would never be a better lover. Always her mind would return to him. She heard his breath quicken. She wanted him more than she wanted her sanity and she hated this game he was playing.
‘You can’t seduce me into saying yes.’
‘I can.’
He could.
He actually could.