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He gave a low, dangerous laugh. “I’ll bet you do.”
“But you’re wrong. I’m not… I’m not what the sultan…” Her eyes widened as he began unbuttoning his s
hirt. “Wait. Please. You don’t—you don’t understand.”
His gaze dropped to her breasts, all but spilling from the torn bra she clutched like a lifeline.
“Let go of it.”
“What?”
“Let go of that thing.” He looked up, his smile icy enough to freeze the marrow of her bones. “I like what I saw in the courtyard, Layla. I want to see it again.”
“My name isn’t Layla. It’s—”
“I don’t give a damn what your name is. We’re not going to have wine and exchange phone numbers. We’re going straight to the main event.” His voice roughened. “Let go of the bra.”
“I’m not a—a whore,” she said desperately. “I’m not anything Asaad said I was.”
Knight’s face turned hard. “No games, baby. You think I’m in the mood to play the barbarian and the virgin, I’ll tell you right now that I’m not.”
“I’m not playing anything. I’m just trying to—”
“How do you want to do this?
“I don’t—I don’t follow the…”
“The easy way?” His tone softened, turned to raw silk. “You want, I can make this good for you.”
“I don’t want you to make this anything for me! I keep telling you, I’m an American, just like you.”
“You’re not anything like me.” He bared his teeth in a chilling grin. “If you were, I wouldn’t want you in my bed.”
“Give me a minute. Just one minute. I can explain everything. Asaad said things about me, but—”
“But they aren’t true.”
“Yes!” Her voice rose in excitement. “Oh, thank God! You do understand! You—you… What are you doing?”
It was an unnecessary question. What he was doing was horrifyingly obvious.
He was getting undressed. Toeing off his boots. Shrugging off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.
Leanna’s heart jammed in her throat.
She’d felt his strength when he carried her but seeing him like this, his chest exposed, his shoulders bare, she knew she had no chance against him. The man who owned her for the night was as sleek as a panther, and just as deadly.
He’d said he wasn’t in the mood for games but he was playing a game of his own, letting her babble and beg for mercy. Maybe it amused him. All she could be certain of was that when he tired of it, he’d overpower her without any effort at all.
“I know you’re angry at me, but—”
“I’m not anything at you, Layla, except tired of hearing you talk.”
“What I said to you down there, what I said to you… I just wanted to get your attention.”
“Yeah. Well, you got it.”
“I had to find a way to be alone with you.”