Hidden In the Sheikh's Harem Read Online Free PDF Page A

deeply imposing even though he was sitting on the ground. The tightly coiled energy he emanated made her think of a cobra about to strike. Or an eagle about to take flight and rip its prey to shreds. He wore a dusty black shirt that stretched across broad shoulders and jeans that hugged what looked to be powerful thighs, the muscles bunching periodically when he looked at her.
    She’d known he was incredibly good-looking from the magazine pictures she’d seen, but with his aristocratic features, wide mouth and pitch-black, neatly cropped hair, he was something else in the flesh. Not that she cared.
    â€˜I have not come to plead for leniency,’ she assured him.
    â€˜Lucky.’ His eyes trapped hers in a challenging stare. ‘Because when I get out of here I have no intention of giving it.’
    Her mouth twisted. ‘Perhaps you need a little longer to think about your position,’ she suggested, glancing pointedly at his bound hands.
    â€˜Perhaps I do,’ he drawled carelessly.
    Oh, but he was getting under her skin! She stared him down for another few minutes and then gave up. This wasn’t a contest, even though he seemed determined to turn it into one. ‘Nevertheless...’ she began, pausing when his hands clenched in his lap yet again. She made a mental note to check his bindings before she left. The last thing she needed was to return him damaged. It would only fare worse for her father. ‘You are not going to die on my watch.’
    â€˜And there I was thinking that our plans weren’t in alignment.’ He smiled and Farah felt an unfamiliar jolt of heat deep in her belly. His teeth gleamed whitely against his dark stubble and she scowled to cover her unexpected reaction. The man was dangerous; his cavalier attitude in the face of his imprisonment was proof enough of that even before one took in the breadth of those shoulders.
    Determined not to be intimidated, Farah crouched down in front of the high and mighty Prince of Bakaan. She watched as he blatantly worked his gaze over her from head to toe and for a moment she couldn’t move; a horrible urge to arch her spine and thrust her breasts out for his inspection making her nipples pull tight.
    Rocked to her core by the inclination she noticed his eyelids had lowered to half-mast making her feel both hot and cold all over, her sense of danger heightened like never before.
    The silence between them lengthened and Farah became aware that her breathing was shallow and that her clothing felt rough against her skin. She couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from his perfectly proportioned mouth and, as if he sensed her inner turmoil, one corner of it tilted knowingly. More annoyed than ever, she shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, slowly raised the bowl between them and offered it to him.
    He didn’t look at the food. Instead his golden eyes held hers in such a way that made her discomfort levels hit an all-time high. ‘If you’re so interested in getting me to eat, then you feed me, my feral little cat.’
    Feral little cat?
The shock of those soft words had Farah rocking back on her heels as feminine pride kicked in. She might not look her best but she was hardly feral! And as for feeding him... She felt steam rising out of her ears. Even tied up and at her mercy he assumed the superior position. ‘I have no intention of feeding you,’ she snapped.
    He gave a soft, deep chuckle that took up residence in the pit of her stomach. ‘Well, there goes that fantasy.’
    Farah’s mouth tightened at the taunt. He’d already made it clear he thought she was lacking in the female department so his comments could only be to try and throw her off. Though to what end, other than to rile her, she didn’t know.
    It was obvious he didn’t believe she would take him up on his challenge to feed him—and normally she wouldn’t even think of doing so, but there was