Mistress Of The Sheikh. Sandra Marton
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discretion was not the better part of valor.
“All right.” Amanda stood straighter, even though her heart was still trying to fight its way out of her chest. “I’ll tell you the truth.”
“An excellent decision, Ms. Benning.”
She licked her lips. “I’m—I’m your surprise.”
Nick frowned. “I beg your pardon?”
“My services. They’re your gift. What Dawn talked about, on the phone.”
His gift? Nick’s brows lifted. His little sister had a strange sense of humor, but how far would she go for a joke? It could be that Amanda Benning was willing to tell one gigantic whopper as a cover story.
“Indeed,” he purred.
Amanda didn’t like the tone in his voice.
“I’ll have you know that I’m much sought after.” Oh, Amanda, what a lie. “And expensive.” Well, why not? She would be, one day.
“Yes,” Nick said softly. “That, at least, must be the truth.”
And then, before she could take a breath, Nick reached for the blonde with the golden eyes and the endless legs, pulled her into his arms, and crushed her mouth under his.
CHAPTER THREE
IF THERE was one thing Nick understood, it was the art of diplomacy.
He was the heir to the throne of an ancient kingdom. He represented his people, his flag, his heritage. And he never forgot that.
It was his responsibility to behave in a way that gave the least offense to anyone, even when he was saying or doing something others might not like. He understood that obligation and accepted it.
But when the spotlight was off and Nick could be himself, the truth was that he often had trouble being diplomatic. There were instances when diplomacy was about as useful as offering condolences to a corpse. Sometimes, being polite could distract from the truth and confuse things.
He wanted no confusion in Amanda Benning’s mind when it came to him. She was sophisticated and beautiful, a woman who lived by her wits as well as her more obvious charms, but he was on to her game.
And he wanted to be sure she knew it.
That was the reason he’d taken her in his arms. He was very clear about the purpose, even as he gathered her close against him, bent her back over his arm and kissed her.
He’d caught her by surprise. He’d intended that. She gasped, which gave him the chance to slip his tongue between her lips. Then she began to fight him.
Good.
She’d planned everything so carefully. The tiny camera that he should never have noticed. The sexy dress. The soft scent of her perfume. The strappy black silk shoes with the high, take-me heels…
Seduction first, conveniently made simple by his foolish sister, whose penchant for silly jokes had finally gotten out of hand. And then, having bedded the Lion of the Desert, the Benning woman would sell her photographs and a breathless first-person account of what it was like to sleep with him.
Nick caught Amanda’s wrist as she struggled to shove a hand between them. What a fool Dawn had been to hire a woman like this and bring her into their midst. But he’d have been a greater fool not to at least taste her.
He wouldn’t take her to bed. He was too fastidious to take the leavings of other men, but he’d give her just enough of an encounter to remember. Kiss her with harsh demand. Cup her high, lush breasts with the easy certainty that spoke of royal possession.
When she responded, not out of desire but because that was her job, he’d shove her from him, let her watch him grind her camera under his heel. After that, he’d call for Abdul and direct him to hustle the lady straight out the door.
Then he’d go in search of his sister. Dawn needed to be reminded how dangerous it was to consort with scum. A few months in Quidar, under the watchful eye of their father, would work wonders.
That was Nick’s plan anyway.
The kiss, the reality of it, changed everything.
Amanda had stopped struggling. That was good. She’d been paid to accept his kisses, welcome his hands as they caressed her pliant body…except, he suddenly realized, she wasn’t pliant.
She was rigid with what seemed to be fear.
Fear?
She’d cried out as his mouth covered hers. A nice touch, he’d thought coldly, that little intake of breath, that high, feminine cry. Righteous indignation didn’t go with the dress or the heels, certainly not with the face or the body, but he could see where she might try it, just to heighten the tension and his arousal before her ultimate surrender.
There were games men and women played, and a woman like this would know them all. Either Amanda Benning was an excellent actress or he’d started the game before she was ready.
Was she the kind who wanted to direct the performance and the pace? Or was her imagination running wild? Innocent maiden. Savage sheikh. The story wasn’t new. Nick had come across women who hungered for it and would accept nothing else, but he never obliged. It was a stereotype, a fantasy that offended him deeply, and he refused to play it out.
Sex between a man and a woman involved as much giving as taking or it brought neither of them pleasure.
But this was different.
He had neither wooed the Benning woman nor won her. She hadn’t seduced him with a smile, a glance, a touch. She was here because his sister had decided it would be amusing to give her to him as a gift.
In other words, none of the usual rules applied.
The woman was his. He could do as he wanted with her. And if what she thought he wanted was some rough sex, he could oblige. He could play along until it was time to toss her out.
A little rough treatment, maybe even a scare, was exactly what Amanda Benning deserved. She was a creature of no morals, willing to offer her body for information she could sell to the highest bidder.
Oh, yes. A little scare would do Amanda Benning just fine.
She was struggling in earnest now, not just trying to drag her mouth from his but fighting him, shoving her fists against his chest, doing her best to free herself from his arms.
Nick laughed against her mouth, spun her around, pressed her back against the silk-covered wall. He caught her wrists, entwined his fingers with hers and flattened her hands against the wall on either side of her.
She tried to scream. He caught her bottom lip in his teeth, moved closer, brushed his body against her.
God, she was so warm. Heat seemed to radiate from her skin. And she was soft. Her breasts. Her belly. Her mouth. Her hot, luscious mouth. He could taste it now, not only the fear but what lay beyond it, the sweet taste of the woman herself.
His body hardened, became steel. There was a roaring in his ears. Nick wanted to carry her to the bed, strip her of her clothes, bury himself deep inside her. Need for her sang in his blood, raced through every muscle.
The part of his brain that still functioned told him he was insane. He was kissing a woman his sister had bought as a joke, a woman with a bag filled with professional tricks. She was pretending she didn’t want him, and he was, what?
He was getting turned on.
It was just that she fitted his arms so well. That her hair felt so silken against his cheek. That she smelled sweet, the way he’d assumed she would taste. The way he wanted her to taste, he thought. The hell with it. She wanted to give a performance? All right. He would comply, but he was changing the rules.
He wasn’t going to take her. He was going to seduce her.
“Amanda,” he said softly.