My skin, my entire body, breaks into goosebumps. Anticipation runs through me, but Zaid doesn’t move. He doesn’t say or do anything else.
I exhale, almost panting, almost begging for more of his touch.
The edge of the dresser presses into the backs of my thighs as I steady myself, chastising my mouth for not opening and answering him. I must look like an idiot.
His dark eyes lock onto mine just as his fingers pull down the zipper of my pants. My breath catches and I can feel the tension in my stomach coiling tighter.
I’m on fire at this point.
“Alina,” he mutters. “Tell me.”
I groan. “Why?”
He lifts an eyebrow and takes his hands away from me. My body almost shrivels up from
the loss of contact.
“Do you have any idea how many reasons there were for why we didn’t get along before?” I say, my voice uneven, trying to steady myself with words when my body feels like it’s spiraling out of control.
He narrows his eyes and shrugs. “No, that’s why I’m asking.”
His hands move to the hem of my shirt.
Before I can think to stop him, he pulls it over my head and tosses it aside, leaving me sitting there in my bra and unzipped pants. His gaze roams over me and I swear I forget how to breathe.
I struggle to find my voice, my words stumbling over the heat pooling low in my belly. “You were arrogant.”
A slow smile spreads on his lips. “Were?”
I lick my lips, noting the way his eyes turn dark as he looks over me. “The way you spoke
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to me when we first met, I didn’t like it.”
He lifts his eyes from where he’s observing my cleavage and tilts his head. “You didn’t?”
I shake my head.
“What else, love?”
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