Rachel’s body went rigid, every nerve on high alert.
“I… I don’t want to.”
“But I do.”
“Why… why me?”
Athan’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her tightly against him, pressing her soft curves against his solid frame.
Rachel pushed against his chest, but it was useless. His presence surrounded her, his crisp, masculine scent filling the space between them.
“I told you,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “We fit together perfectly. Or maybe… I just like your body.”
Rachel instinctively tensed, her legs pressing together. “That time… it was an accident.”
Athan’s dark gaze traced her face—the gentle arch of her brows, the delicate slope of her nose, the soft pink of her lips. His eyes darkened further.
“But didn’t you say you wanted to be my woman?”
Rachel’s breath hitched
