Special Deliveries: Heir To His Legacy: Heir to a Desert Legacy. Elizabeth Lane

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Special Deliveries: Heir To His Legacy: Heir to a Desert Legacy - Elizabeth Lane


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as I am.”

      She tried to swallow, but couldn’t, her heart thundering so fast she was afraid it would beat out of her chest.

      “There is something I’m regretting,” he said.

      “What’s that?” she asked.

      “That the Attari wedding tradition does not require the bride and groom to kiss.”

      “I don’t regret it,” she said, knowing she was challenging him again. Knowing there would be consequences.

      “You don’t sound very convincing,” he said.

      “Because I’m lying,” she said.

      He chuckled and then she felt the hot press of his mouth on her neck. “I thought you might be.” His fingertip traced a line from her shoulder, up her neck, and along her jaw, then around her lips. “Yes, I was certain you were.”

      He moved then, his lips brushing against hers. “Tell me you want this,” he said, his voice rough.

      He was going to make her ask. Was going to make her drop her defenses, lay her pride down. Was going to force her to be weak before him.

      But she already was. Too weak to stop herself from complying.

      “I want it.”

      That was all it took. His lips were hard on hers, his kiss devouring, insatiable, proving she wasn’t the only hungry one.

      She’d wondered about kissing. More than once she’d wondered if it would be wet, or warm. If it would be awkward. If having someone’s tongue in your mouth would be more gross than sexy.

      She had her answer now. Warm, wet in the best possible way, not awkward in the least and… his tongue swept against the seam of her lips, requesting entry, and she gave it. And sexy. The answer to the last question was: sexy.

      She returned the kiss, fully aware that her movements weren’t anywhere near as smooth as his. That when she slipped her tongue between his lips, it wasn’t with the kind of practiced confidence he possessed. But his hands curved around her back, pulling her tightly against him, she didn’t care. Not at all.

      She slipped her arms around his neck, fingers curling into his hair, holding him tightly to her mouth as she continued to taste, and to be tasted. Being tasted was her favorite part, she was pretty sure.

      Then he growled. A rough, masculine sound that radiated from his body and through hers. Her back connected to the wall again, hard and cold behind her, Sayid hard and hot in front of her. Pinning her. Trapping her. And she didn’t care.

      As long as he kept touching her, as long as he kept kissing her, he could do whatever he wanted. As long as she could have this feeling.

      An alarm went off in the back of her mind, the sane, rational voice that had dominated for so many years screaming at her to listen to her last thought. And a memory intruded, one that she should never have let fade. One she should have kept closer.

       Why do you stay with him, Mom?

       Because as bad as he makes me feel sometimes… when he makes it feel good, he makes it feel like heaven.

      No.

      She broke the kiss, gasping for air, shoving at his chest, blinding panic moving through her, taking over the pleasure that had made her behave so foolishly. So much like her mother.

      “Stop,” she said, her chest rising and falling quickly, her voice shaking. She was going to cry. She could feel it in the sting of her eyes, the ache in her throat, the sick feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want him to see her tears.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “What’s wrong?” she asked, choosing to embrace anger. Anger was so much better than weakness. So much better than acceptance. “You… you’re trying to dominate me by making me feel good. Trying to exert power over me with sex, but it isn’t going to work.”

      “Funny, I thought I was kissing you. I thought I even gave you the chance to leave.”

      “You said it, but you were holding me there. You know that.”

      “And you could have broken away, like you did just now. You know that. Don’t change it to suit you just because you’re having regrets.”

      “Hopefully that’s our marriage confirmed then, because that was quite enough for me,” she said, breezing past him and heading for the stairs.

      “Oh, no, habibti, that is not how a marriage is confirmed here. It will not be official until I’m inside of you.”

      She whirled around, her heart beating erratically. “Don’t say things like that to me.”

      “Why? Because it makes you want it?”

      “Because it’s disgusting,” she hissed, a tear escaping now, sliding down her cheek. “You have all the power here, and I won’t let you have this, too.” She turned away from him and went up the stairs, stalking down the hall and to her room. It was empty. Aden had been moved to the nursery for the night.

      And she couldn’t go and get him. Not if she hoped to keep up the pretense of being a true wife to Sayid. In reality, she wouldn’t be able to sleep in her room, either. She sat in a chair in front of an ornate vanity.

      She wouldn’t sleep, then.

      But she wasn’t going to Sayid’s room.

      Sayid felt as if a rock had settled in his stomach. He didn’t know what had prompted her reaction to him, but he knew it came from somewhere deep. A place she kept hidden from the world. A place that had been created by pain.

      He knew it because he recognized it. In his case, the pain had been so great that every nerve ending had been killed and cauterized. Leaving him healed, but not feeling. Never again.

      With Chloe… her wounds were raw. Not enough to stop the pain. Not for the first time, he was grateful that he’d been spared that. That his wounds had been too grave to heal right.

      He stood in the corridor for a long time, weighing what he would do.

      He would follow her. Because she was in pain. Because she was his wife. And because for the first time in a very long time, he felt the desire to do the right thing, not the right thing in terms of honor or the greater good, but the right thing for a person.

      Sayid followed the path Chloe had taken and knocked on her bedroom door. He heard nothing and he realized that she might be afraid he was a palace employee.

      “It’s me,” he said.

      “Why?” she asked, her voice a long whine.

      “Because we have to talk.”

      “Well, come in. You don’t want anyone to catch you in the hall.”

      He pushed the door open and felt a strange tightening in his chest when he saw her there, sitting at the vanity, her knees pulled up to her chest, her white dress flowing out around her.

      “What happened down there?”

      “I told you,” she said.

      “You gave me that same line you’ve been giving me. It always turns in to what a neanderthal I am. To how I’m trying to dominate you. Let me tell you something, Chloe, if I were trying to dominate you, you would know it. There would be no mistaking it.”

      Her cheeks turned red. “It’s just that… you could, Sayid. You have… so much power. I can’t give you any more.”

      “Attraction,” he said, not sure why he was doing this, reaching out, but knowing he had to now, “is two sided. And it means you have power over me, as well. The power to make me lose my mind, like I did a few moments ago.”

      “I didn’t… I don’t…”

      He crossed the room and knelt


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