Page 44 of Trapped By the Maharaja

The temple pond shimmered under the bright sun.

Sanjana saw Ram standing just a few paces away from her, tall and broad, his maroon sherwani glinting faintly under the light of the oil lamps that floated on the water.

He turned to her, his eyes catching hers, something soft flickering there, an intimacy she hadn’t seen in years.

She stepped toward him, her lips parting to call his name.

That’s when the shadow appeared from behind the trees.

An attacker lunged with steel flashing. A knife. It arced through the air with deadly precision.

“Ram!” Sanjana screamed, her voice tearing from her throat as the blade plunged into his back.

She saw his body jolt, saw his knees buckle. His dark eyes glazed with pain, then dimmed as his weight crumpled to the ground.

There was blood. A lot of blood spilled across the stone steps, pooling toward her bare feet. Sanjana dropped to her knees, grabbing him, shaking him, but his body was heavy, limp, lifeless.

“No, no, please!” Her voice broke as she pressed her hands against the wound, her fingers wet with red. “Don’t leave me, Ram, please!”

But his eyes were already closed. His lips, parted only moments ago, were still.

A scream ripped out of her chest.

Elara woke up with a jolt as her heart thudded hard inside her. It was dark inside the room, except for the moonlight that fell through the gaps in the thick curtains.

She felt the mattress dip, and the scent of citrus and sandalwood cutting through the terror of her nightmare. She realized Ram had just returned. She felt the slightly damp heat of his freshly showered body on her back as his muscled arm wrapped around her waist.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, the image of his lifeless body seared behind her lids. With a desperate need to erase the image of him dying and to see for herself he was fine, she turned in his arms.

“Ram...” she whispered.

She saw his darkly handsome face. Before she could think rationally and before her pride or anger stopped her, she kissed him.

Her lips crashed against his, frantic and hungry.

He froze for a moment, and then his hand came up, fingers tangling roughly in her hair, and he kissed her back with equal ferocity.

She kissed him back harder, the terror from the nightmare driving her.

Her hands slid down the hard planes of his chest, feeling the powerful ridge of muscle beneath smooth skin.

Pulling her mouth away from his, she continued to kiss. Her lips moved over the hard line of his stubbled jaw and then the powerful column of his throat.

She kissed the pulse hammering at the base of his throat and the thin scar on his collarbone.

Her mouth traced a path down his torso, kissing and locking each defined ridge of muscle.

His breathing roughened when she nipped lightly at the sensitive skin just below his navel.

His hands tangled in her hair as she moved lower.

She reached the thick, heavy length of him.

The scent of him, clean soap mixed with his own dark musk, filled her senses.

She paused, pressing her lips to the pulsing vein along the underside, feeling the heat radiating from him.

Then, taking him fully into her mouth, she heard his sharp intake of breath followed by her name.

She tasted him and pleasured him until his fingers tightened in her hair.

She lifted her head, meeting his hooded gaze in the dim light.

His dark eyes burned with raw intensity.

“I want you,” he growled. “Now.”

She released his throbbing hardness. And then, without breaking eye contact, she straddled him.

She took off her thin nightgown and slowly lowered herself, taking him deep inside her.

Her gasp mingled with his guttural groan.

When she was fully seated on him, she began to move.

Her hands braced on his chest, fingers splayed over the hard muscle, anchoring herself as she rode him.

He watched, his dark, hooded gaze locked on her face.

The intensity of his focus was its own kind of possession, pushing her higher, faster.

The tension built, coiled tight in her belly until it snapped.

He watched her fall apart, his expression fierce, hungry. Then, with a growl that vibrated deep in his chest, he flipped her beneath him in one fluid motion.

He drove into her. His gaze held hers, dark eyes blazing with possession and something that felt like a reflection of her own desperate need.

His thrusts were deep, relentless, stealing her breath, building the heat again until she shattered a second time, biting into his shoulder.

His roar followed, rough and primal, as he buried himself deep inside her.

She felt the hot pulse deep inside her, the shuddering tension in his muscles locking them together. For a long moment, he stayed collapsed atop her, his forehead pressed to hers, breathing harshly against her lips.

Then he kissed her. It was a kiss that spoke of something far more complex than anger or lust. It was soft and tender, and she felt the remnants of her nightmare leaving her mind completely.

He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling hotly in the charged silence.

He rolled away, his muscled weight shifting off her.

The sudden loss of contact, the cool air on her damp skin, made her shiver involuntarily.

But before the chill could settle, his arm hooked firmly around her waist. He pulled her close until her head found its place on the solid warmth of his chest. Soon, her eyes closed and she fell asleep with her ear pressed directly over the strong, steady thump of his heart.