Page 54 of The Pakhan's Secret Baby

If I say yes I'm giving myself to a man who just admitted he sees me as a transaction.

Every part of me wants to tell him to go to hell, to grab my son and run.

But I can't outrun him and I can't outspend him and I can't even leave this house without a guard on my back.

Rashid reaches out and cups my cheek, then tilts my face up so I have to look at him.

"Imagine a life ruling beside me," he says. "Not hiding in a freezing apartment, or running from men who want to kill you. Our son will have everything he needs. Your father will have his chance. And you'll never have to be afraid again."

All I can think about is Batya in that hostel room drinking himself to death, and Lex down the hall crying for me. I don't want this man and I don't want this life, but I don't have another one to go back to.

I can't say no to him.

All I can do is agree long enough to buy us time, and pray Batya can help me find a way out.

"I'll do what you want," I tell him. "I'll stay and I'll give you what you're asking for. But you give me your word right now that no harm comes to my father. Not from you and not from your men. He doesn't just get to speak his piece. You promise me you won't harm him in any way." I feel my lip quiver and his eyes drop to it, watching me speak like he's waiting to devour me.

His thumb moves against the side of my neck. "You have my word," he says. "As long as you keep yours."

Rashid’s thumb strokes along my jaw like he’s already claiming ownership. His dark eyes burn into mine with that unnerving intensity. “Good girl,” he grumbles, “but words are cheap in my world, Emory. Prove you can keep your word.”

My stomach twists. “Prove it how?”

A dangerous smile ghosts across his lips. He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he slides his hand to the back of my neck and pulls me forward, crushing his mouth to mine as he tightens his grip into a fist of hair.

There’s nothing gentle about the kiss.

His lips devour me like he’s been starving for years.

I gasp and he uses it to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping in to tangle with mine.

The familiar taste of whiskey and dark power floods my senses.

My hands come up instinctively, pushing at his chest, but he doesn't relent.

Heat surges through my body, unwanted but undeniable.

Memories crash over me and my knees weaken.

He notices, backing me against the desk until I’m trapped between the cold wood and his hard body.

Rashid breaks the kiss just enough to bite my lower lip, then soothes it with his tongue. “That’s a start,” he rasps against my mouth. But one large hand slides down my side, gripping my waist possessively, pulling me flush against the lump growing in his pants.

I’m trembling, caught between fear and a treacherous spark of arousal I hate myself for feeling. “Rashid…” His name comes out shaky, half protest, half plea.

Rashid’s control snaps.

With a low, feral sound, he grips the front of my sweater and yanks hard.

The fabric tears down the middle and I gasp as cool air kisses my skin, but he doesn’t stop.

His hands are rough, almost violent with need, shoving the ruined sweater off my shoulders and tossing it aside.

Next come my jeans.

He spins me around, pinning my hips against the desk, and jerks them down my thighs along with my panties in one brutal tug.

The denim catches at my knees before he rips them the rest of the way off, leaving me completely bare from the waist down.