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

the way he licked and sucked on her fingers, some deep part of her consciousness trying to tell her that her fingers were now well and truly clean. Still she allowed him to linger, another part of her consciousness urging her to replace her fingers with her mouth. It was so overpowering it was all she could do not to lean in and...
    Realising she was about to topple into him, she felt a fire rise up to consume her face and jerked back. Before she could remove her fingers, however, he gripped her wrist and stroked his tongue in between the webbing.
    â€˜I think I missed a bit,’ he murmured in a rough voice that worked like a sanding tool over her sensitive skin. His tongue flicked back and forth, back and forth, in a purely sensual exploration, before gently biting down on her sensitive palm.
    A small whimper escaped her lips and her fingers curled against his beard-roughened face, her body swaying toward his. Almost absently she was aware that a warning voice had started clanging inside her brain but his hand was pressing hers closer. His hand that was...that was...
    By Allah! Farah’s eyes flew to his as it finally registered that his hands were free, only to find him staring into hers with a knowing gleam. Immediately she tried to wrench herself free and the small metal bowl hit the dirt as she valiantly pushed against him. Unfortunately he was on her quicker than lightning could fork into the ground and she was on her back before she had time to blink.
    Slightly winded from the way he tossed her onto the ground, Farah twisted away from him to scream, but the back of her head hit the dirt as his large hand clamped over her mouth. ‘Oh, no, you don’t. There will be no calling the cavalry just yet, sweetheart.’
    Farah squirmed beneath the weight of his upper body and knew it was futile to push against him. He was too strong. And it wasn’t just from lean, hard-packed muscle either. One look into his furious face and she could see that he’d leashed his rage so successfully she hadn’t realised how deep it ran. Although she
should
have, and perhaps she
would
have, if she hadn’t been stupidly distracted by his masculinity and her own rioting hormones.
    Knowing she could never throw him from this angle, she tried desperately to get her hands beneath her tunic to her hidden dagger that had saved her skin a few times in the past. Admittedly those times had been from snakes and scorpions, but hadn’t she already noted that this man was just as dangerous as any predator? Having learnt how to use a dagger and to fight with a sword when she was younger, Farah knew just where to threaten him with it so that he’d let her go. But it was as if he could read her mind because he caught her wandering hand in his and brought it over her head.
    Frantic at the ease with which he contained her, she desperately curled her fingers towards his skin in the hope of causing some damage but he pressed the hand against her mouth more firmly and brought her eyes to his.
    â€˜Scratch me, little cat, and I’ll scratch you back,’ he growled close to her ear.
    Farah paused at the menace in those words but then she realised that he would have to let her go to scratch her so she didn’t care. She kicked out, catching his shin with the solid point of one boot, and scratched at his wrists at the same time.
    â€˜Damn it to hell!’ He cursed softly and stretched her arms high to breaking point, pinning her legs down with one of his. Farah moaned behind his hand. She was struggling to draw oxygen into her lungs and was thankful when he adjusted his palm a little to ease her growing dizziness.
    â€˜Follow my instructions and I won’t hurt you,’ he promised.
    Ha! As if she believed that. His family had been hurting the people of Bakaan for centuries and tyranny ran in his veins as surely as the blood she’d just drawn on his wrist.
    The weight of him felt like an anvil slowly