too gently … just stopping short of causing harm.
A vicious blow caught his shin and Armaan growled in rage. The blow didn’t have the effect that Zara was hoping for. It only resulted in stoking the leashed aggression as Armaan kissed her again.
The fury that she felt was volcanic. Without thinking of the repercussions, Zara was kissing him back, finding it to be the best method of defense. Even as she turned into the aggressor, she realized the folly of her action when his hands curved around her hips to hold her closer to his arousal. She had no way of recovering from the shot of pleasure that slid through her veins. She was melting against him, against her will, with the kiss binding them together.
Armaan was astonished by the kiss. Zara had stopped pounding on his chest. He wished she hadn’t! The kiss was far more effective in unsettling him than her violent reaction. Sheer pleasure hit him when she sank her hands into his hair with her arms around his neck. Zara couldn’t stop kissing him once the floodgates had opened, slaking a deep thirst that seemed endless. Armaan finally took charge, twisting her around and tumbled with her on the bed. He landed effortlessly on top of her, enveloping her in his arms.
Zara was immobile from head to toe. Jolted out of her bubble of excitement, she could not fathom what had suddenly changed between them. His tall muscled body connected with her from chest to thigh. What had she done! Kissing him like it was a lifeline for her! She couldn’t face him. Her eyes squeezed shut, terrified that Armaan would see the hot desire in them. One look would be enough toelicit a mocking comment. Her heart pounded like a crazy drum. She wanted to cry out, scream at him that she … wanted him desperately! No! She wanted to escape this torture! She was tangled with him, limbs, sheets and all, in such a manner that she could not move an inch. Both were motionless in silent awareness.
For Armaan, the effort of just holding on to his reeling senses was too great. The kiss had left him shaken. Zara’s eyes were squeezed shut when he kissed her again hungrily. She moaned for the first time, wanting to wrap her arms around him, even as her eyes filled with tears.
The warm tears were worse than the slap he had received a few minutes ago. The droplets dripped through his fingers that were tangled in her hair, framing her face. He lifted his mouth off her reddened lips, suddenly contrite. Zara lay still, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her eyes still closed with tears flowing freely now.
“Zara? Sweetheart … talk to me!” Armaan whispered, cupping her face, his voice bordering on a flimsy apology. His tone gentled for the first time since the senseless frenzy had begun. He smoothed her tangled hair away from her face.
Zara didn’t know what to say. The gentle query and the very first endearment from Armaan broke her resolve not to cry. Her face crumpled without words in a soft sob. Zara felt the need to scream and scream, but she would not let herself have that relief yet. Not while he was watching her. Stoically she swallowed the next sob and waited for him to get off her … waited with eyes still closed.
Slowly, the sensations burned every resistance in her body. Her limbs grew heavy and languorous as they acknowledged the hard sinewy, muscles on her. She kept still, not wanting to give away how she felt.
A slow steady fire burned its way between her thighs where his muscled leg had fitted in. Patience, she told herself. Now that he did not seem so angry, he might just leave her. That would effectively douse the fire that was now licking all the way to her breasts, cushioned against his bare chest. Seconds ticked by, but he did not move. She knew he must be watching her, those dark brown eyes without mercy, his face only inches from hers.
If she opened her eyes now would he mock her again? Laugh at her vulnerability? She did not want him to see the hopeless desire in her eyes.
A vicious blow caught his shin and Armaan growled in rage. The blow didn’t have the effect that Zara was hoping for. It only resulted in stoking the leashed aggression as Armaan kissed her again.
The fury that she felt was volcanic. Without thinking of the repercussions, Zara was kissing him back, finding it to be the best method of defense. Even as she turned into the aggressor, she realized the folly of her action when his hands curved around her hips to hold her closer to his arousal. She had no way of recovering from the shot of pleasure that slid through her veins. She was melting against him, against her will, with the kiss binding them together.
Armaan was astonished by the kiss. Zara had stopped pounding on his chest. He wished she hadn’t! The kiss was far more effective in unsettling him than her violent reaction. Sheer pleasure hit him when she sank her hands into his hair with her arms around his neck. Zara couldn’t stop kissing him once the floodgates had opened, slaking a deep thirst that seemed endless. Armaan finally took charge, twisting her around and tumbled with her on the bed. He landed effortlessly on top of her, enveloping her in his arms.
Zara was immobile from head to toe. Jolted out of her bubble of excitement, she could not fathom what had suddenly changed between them. His tall muscled body connected with her from chest to thigh. What had she done! Kissing him like it was a lifeline for her! She couldn’t face him. Her eyes squeezed shut, terrified that Armaan would see the hot desire in them. One look would be enough toelicit a mocking comment. Her heart pounded like a crazy drum. She wanted to cry out, scream at him that she … wanted him desperately! No! She wanted to escape this torture! She was tangled with him, limbs, sheets and all, in such a manner that she could not move an inch. Both were motionless in silent awareness.
For Armaan, the effort of just holding on to his reeling senses was too great. The kiss had left him shaken. Zara’s eyes were squeezed shut when he kissed her again hungrily. She moaned for the first time, wanting to wrap her arms around him, even as her eyes filled with tears.
The warm tears were worse than the slap he had received a few minutes ago. The droplets dripped through his fingers that were tangled in her hair, framing her face. He lifted his mouth off her reddened lips, suddenly contrite. Zara lay still, her breath coming in shallow gasps, her eyes still closed with tears flowing freely now.
“Zara? Sweetheart … talk to me!” Armaan whispered, cupping her face, his voice bordering on a flimsy apology. His tone gentled for the first time since the senseless frenzy had begun. He smoothed her tangled hair away from her face.
Zara didn’t know what to say. The gentle query and the very first endearment from Armaan broke her resolve not to cry. Her face crumpled without words in a soft sob. Zara felt the need to scream and scream, but she would not let herself have that relief yet. Not while he was watching her. Stoically she swallowed the next sob and waited for him to get off her … waited with eyes still closed.
Slowly, the sensations burned every resistance in her body. Her limbs grew heavy and languorous as they acknowledged the hard sinewy, muscles on her. She kept still, not wanting to give away how she felt.
A slow steady fire burned its way between her thighs where his muscled leg had fitted in. Patience, she told herself. Now that he did not seem so angry, he might just leave her. That would effectively douse the fire that was now licking all the way to her breasts, cushioned against his bare chest. Seconds ticked by, but he did not move. She knew he must be watching her, those dark brown eyes without mercy, his face only inches from hers.
If she opened her eyes now would he mock her again? Laugh at her vulnerability? She did not want him to see the hopeless desire in her eyes.
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