On a frustrated, furious cry, I struggled.
This surprisingly worked. I managed to push him back, slide out from under him and nearly gain the side of the bed before I was caught at the waist and pulled back.
I whirled and fought.
I managed to use my nails to score his skin, opening up two thin, short streaks that beaded instantly with blood just under his shoulder and that shoulder rocked back as I froze in shock that I’d managed to wound him. Then he gave me his full weight, tipped his head down to look at the scratches and, f**k me, when he looked back at me there was something in his eyes I did not like and whatever that something was made him grin like he was supremely pleased.
Shit!
I unfroze and again gave it my all, just like that heinous night, grunting with the effort.
The problem was, even with the bastard knowing he was bigger than me, stronger than me, he gave it his all too and it became clear that if I wasn’t smart, and fast, he’d break bones if he had to.
God, I hated him.
And when he’d maneuvered me to my knees, my back to him, my wrists held in one of his fists pinned unmoving to my chest and I knew what was next, I reared back my head and shouted it.
“God, I hate you!”
His free hand slid along the silk at my belly and his mouth went to my neck.
“Kah Lahnahsahna,” he muttered.
I jerked (to no avail) in his arms, and screamed, “Stop calling me that!”
His fingers curled in, fisting the material at my belly, bunching it up and when he had it all up, his hand moved down.
I froze.
“Kah Dahksahna,” he whispered against my neck.
“Fuck you! I’m not your queen!” I snapped, my h*ps finally moving to avoid the path of his hand.
“Kah rahna Dahksahna,” he murmured and his hand slid into my panties.
My h*ps stopped moving.
“God,” I whispered on a jerk of my arms that did nothing to loosen his hold, “I freaking hate you.”
His fingers glided between my legs.
And that was when it hit me his touch wasn’t clinical. It wasn’t removed. He wasn’t shoving me face first into the bed and taking me from behind like I was nothing but a warm vessel to receive his seed.
His touch was gentle, light, soft.
Oh shit.
His finger glided light as a whisper over my clit.
Oh shit!
“Lahn,” I whispered.
“Lahn,” he repeated, pushing his h*ps into my back as his finger started to circle in what was very clearly a caress. And dear God, I couldn’t believe it but it was a nice one. It was a sweet one. And my body, damn it all, recognized it as such.
What on earth was happening?
“Please.” I kept whispering.