One Night Of Consequences Collection. Annie West

over hers again, his tongue thrusting deep as he gave her what she craved and moved powerfully inside her. In no time at all Imogen felt her orgasm building and writhed against him, forcing him to press one hand against the wall to hold them both upright and then she was there, on the pinnacle of that exquisite release she had only ever experienced in his arms, their mouths fused together as if their lives depended on it. Imogen opened her eyes at that moment to find him watching her and the connection was so elemental it hurtled her over the edge into a place filled with bright lights and dizzying heights. And then it was all too much and she threw her head back and let her release rush through her on long exquisite pulses. Seconds later Nadir’s grip on her hips tightened to the point of pain and his thrusts grew brutal just before he threw his own head back and bellowed her name into the still night air.

      The comedown from the desperate rush to orgasm was slow and noisy, both of them panting hard to catch their breaths.

      Nadir raised his head from where it was now buried against her neck. ‘Are you okay?’

      ‘Yes. Out of shape, but good.’

      Nadir gripped the underside of her thighs and hoisted her legs higher around his waist while he remained buried deep inside her. ‘You’re not out of shape, habibi. You’re perfect.’

      ‘Where are we going?’ she asked quickly as he carried her down the hall.

      ‘My bed.’

      ‘What about Nadeena?’

      ‘I’ll leave the door open.’ He strode inside the room and didn’t even bother with the light as he collapsed with her onto the bed.

      Imogen tilted her head back and felt the silky fabric of the comforter against the sensitised skin of her back. Part of her knew that she should get up but her body felt as if it was on fire, renewed desire coiling through every cell, and all she wanted to do was wrap herself around Nadir and not think about anything right now. Not the future that seemed so insurmountable and not the past which was tinged with the bittersweet memories of first love and then the utter despair of rejection. Right now her body just wanted his, needed his, and she was powerless to resist.

      Not that Nadir was exactly giving her time to question his demands as he kissed and licked his way down over her collarbone towards her breasts.

      Before she could object, he raised her T-shirt over her head and tossed it onto the floor.

      ‘This time we do it a little slower,’ he said gruffly. ‘And I might even throw in a little finesse for good measure.’

      Imogen laughed at his playful words and then suddenly felt self-conscious as she realised where his mouth was headed. ‘Nadir, stop. My breasts aren’t the same any more and I’m feeding.’

      He batted her hands away and rose up on one powerful arm to peer down at her, his other hand drawing lazy circles around the outer swells of each breast before cupping each one in turn. She felt her nipples peak and rise up eagerly for his touch. ‘I don’t care. You’re beautiful, Imogen.’ He lowered his head and laved one nipple lightly with his tongue, making her gasp with pleasure. Nadir grinned. ‘I love that you can feed our child. I love that your nipples are slightly darker than before.’ His head bent again and he blew across one straining tip. ‘I love your taste. The way you feel.’

      Lost in his words and his touch, Imogen’s arms rose up again to mould his sinewy shoulders and cling to the taut wall of muscle at his back. It was that untamed, unrefined side of him, encapsulated within sleek, sophisticated masculinity that had always drawn her to him. Had always drawn every woman to him.

      Forgetting about the past, she inhaled, pulling the wonderful scent of sweat and man deep into her body. ‘I love the way you taste too. Take off your robe. I want to feel you against me.’

      Nadir didn’t need any further urging and within seconds he had come down over the top of her again. Naked. A gloriously prowling male in his prime. Imogen’s breath caught at the sight of his thick length jutting hard up against his ridged abdomen. He was so potently virile. So unselfconsciously male he took her breath away.

      ‘Like what you see, habibi?’ he drawled lazily.

      ‘Comme ci, comme ça.’ She pretended to yawn.

      He growled at her cheekiness and pushed her thighs wider with his knees. ‘I’ll give you comme ci, comme ça,’ he whispered roughly, reaching beneath her to angle her bottom up better for his penetration.

      He groaned as he sank into her warm, willing flesh. ‘I was going to take this slow but now...’ he thrust forward and Imogen clung to his arms, her fingernails digging into his hard biceps to anchor herself against him ‘...now I just want to plough into you and make you scream. How’s that for finesse?’

      ‘Finesse is so terribly overrated.’ She gasped out each word as he did exactly what he said.

      He grunted his pleasure, his gaze hungry as it raked over her face. ‘Tell me if I’m too rough?’

      Imogen shook her head and brought her hands up to cup the hard planes of his face, her fingers stroking over the rough bristle on his jaw. ‘No. Give me more. I want more.’

      ‘Ah, hell, Imogen. Habibi.’ His words of praise became more urgent and mixed with Arabic as he drove into her over and over and over until they both fell apart with the extent of another mind-blowing orgasm.

      Finally sated, Nadir bent down and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. Then he rolled onto his back and took her with him, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder and it was as if no time had passed at all. She could almost hear the sounds of Parisians dining and chatting and going about their business from the open window of his apartment. But time had passed and it had created a chasm and her chest tightened as she thought about getting up and going back to her own room. If only she wasn’t feeling so weak, ripples of her release still coursing through her lax body.

      ‘What?’ he asked as if he sensed her tension.

      ‘I should go back to Nadeena.’

      He gently tugged her still damp hair out from under his arm and stroked it back against the pillow. ‘Stay. I’ve missed holding you like this.’

      His admission startled her and set off a warm glow as if a cluster of fireflies had set up house inside her chest. ‘Me too.’

      She felt him place a light kiss against her hair and turned her face into his throat.

      ‘Then sleep. I’ll check on Nadeena in a minute.’

      She wanted to protest, she wanted to say that she needed to do it because she always had and Nadeena’s safety was her responsibility but Nadir rolled her onto her side and spooned her, his big body swamping hers and cocooning her in the most delicious warmth and a deep lassitude invaded her already weakened limbs and turned her limp. It was blissful, this feeling of being utterly taken care of, and no doubt—if she let it—highly addictive.

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      OR IT COULD have been highly addictive if it had continued. But of course it had not, Imogen thought glumly as she stretched to place her nose against her knee, her groin muscles protesting the once effortless stretch.

      They had made love twice more during the night, once fast and another time slow and indulgent, his fingers drifting and stroking over every inch of her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her and then in the morning she’d woken up to find him gone.

      At first she’d not minded, stretching her overused muscles and indulging in sensual recall. Then she’d realised that she couldn’t hear anything and that she’d overslept for the first time since she’d become pregnant and had raced out of bed, pulling on her T-shirt that had been wedged half under his giant bed and set off down the hallway to find Nadeena’s cot empty.

      Slightly panicked, she’d then rushed into