Page 180 of Claimed By the Maharaja
The firelight flickered gold across his handsome face and body. She hated how stunning he looked with sweat glistening on his broad chest, the muscles on his shoulders flexing with each punishing thrust. She hated how her body pulsed around him, greedy for more.
“You are a controlling bastard,” she hissed, digging her nails harder into his skin until she drew blood. “I still hate you.”
His thrusts didn’t slow, and his golden-brown eyes burned into hers.
“I’m not a bastard,” he said. “My parents were married when I was born.”
The absurdity of the statement punched a startled laugh from her lips.
It quickly turned into a moan when his mouth captured hers in a searing kiss.
The world beyond the cabin walls didn't exist anymore.
If this was manipulation, it was becoming dangerously difficult to tell where the manipulation ended and her own feelings began.
CHAPTER 42
Morning settled over the mountains.
Snow beyond the cabin window glowed faintly gold. The world outside looked untouched and quiet, as if nothing reckless had happened the night before.
Yamini woke slowly.
Warmth surrounded her.
For a moment, she didn't move. A muscled arm lay across her waist, a calloused palm curved low against her abdomen.
The wool blanket had slipped sometime during the night. Cool air brushed her bare shoulder, but the muscled chest was solid and warm against her back.
She realized that it was the first time she had woken up beside him.
They had been married for over two months. He had come to her nearly every night through the connecting door, but he left before dawn.
Now, he hadn’t left.
She wasn't sure why that realization unsettled her more than finding his arm around her waist.
Her body ached faintly while memories of the night rushed in.
Last night, she had forgotten that he was the man she had accused of orchestrating her divorce. The same man who had agreed to her proposal as if the answer hadn’t already been decided long before she asked.
But now, in the light of day, those things mattered again.
She shifted slightly, intending to slip free before he woke.
His arm tightened immediately, drawing her back before she had moved more than an inch.
“Stay.”
His voice was low and rough with sleep.
Her breath caught.
Outside, the wind moved faintly across the frozen lake below. Inside, the air felt warmer than it should have.
She turned in his arms until she faced him.
In the morning light, he looked different. His sharp, masculine features were softened by sleep, making him look less like the cold, untouchable maharaja the world saw.
