Hidden In the Sheikh's Harem Read Online Free PDF

something about this insolent prince that rubbed her up the wrong way. Plus, she’d dealt with dusty, stubborn camels her whole life so one dirty, scruffy male would be no different. Involuntarily her eyes dropped to his body. It was difficult to see the full extent of his physique in his current position but there was no doubt he emanated a masculine power she hadn’t come across before. Or had never noticed.
    She glanced at his hands and the rope around his waist that kept him tethered to the post. The sense of menace and danger that cloaked him made her think twice about her next actions while the wicked glint in his eyes goaded her on. But it wasn’t as if he could actually do anything to her, tied as he was.
    A shiver went through her anyway and she lifted her chin. ‘If I feed you, will you eat?’
    One dark eyebrow lifted lazily and dense ebony lashes lowered slowly to shield his eyes. ‘You’ll need to get closer to find out.’
    Farah ignored the sudden leap of her pulse at his words. Better just to get this over and done with and she’d have one thing accomplished. And wasn’t it true that a man with a full stomach had a better disposition than one with an empty one? Maybe then he’d be more amenable to seeing reason.
    Besides, she had something to prove. This was nothing more than a classic power play and she would not let him see that he intimidated her. Not that he did, exactly; it was just that any animal handler knew that you approached an unknown beast with caution. Particularly a large, predatory one.
    Deciding that, like cleaning the privy, thinking about the deed was worse than actually doing it, Farah clenched her jaw and dug the tips of her fingers into the fragrant meat dish. She had to shuffle even closer to him and his male scent rose to mingle with the food. Logically he should have smelt like a pair of damp old socks. He didn’t. He smelt of man and sweat and heat.
    Heat?
    What did heat even smell like?
    That was about as relevant to her current objective as the shape of his mouth. Quickly, before she could change her mind, she scooped out a portion of meat and rice, careful to keep the bowl close to catch any drips, and leaned forward onto the balls of her feet before raising her fingers to his mouth.
    In this position she was almost straddling him and she flushed hotly as unexpected images of the two of them naked and entwined came into her head. A year ago she’d seen a sexy magazine spread of a man and a woman pretending to make love. She’d felt a momentary jolt of curiosity at seeing them but it was nothing compared to the jolt she was feeling now. She’d always viewed sex as a means of procreation, not pleasure. So why had her mind transplanted the skimpily clad models in the magazine with the two of them? It was so clear she could almost picture the prince’s powerful body lying beneath her own; she could almost see herself sitting astride him; could almost feel the press of his ribs against her inner thighs. She squeezed them together unconsciously and heat bloomed there, catching her off guard.
    The walls of the tent seemed to draw in around her as she fought to contain her body’s visceral reaction to her thoughts and she frowned as the prince’s firm lips remained resolutely closed. Exasperated, she lifted her eyes to his, the angry tirade she was about to unleash on him dying on her tongue as he chose that moment to lean forward and draw the rice and meat—and her fingers—inside his warm mouth.
    As soon as her fingers slipped inside his lips, his tongue curled around them to claim the food. She felt its warm, thick moistness and shuddered at the rush of liquid heat between her legs and the tingling sensation that caused her nipples to tighten. She’d never experienced anything like this and she couldn’t tear her eyes from his.
    Dimly aware that she was all but panting, she was completely mesmerised by