Exposed: The Sheikh's Mistress

He seemed to read her thoughts—for he laughed as he moved his hand, teasingly drifting his fingers across her aching mound. She moaned in sweet response. He murmured something in a tongue which was foreign to her, but the mocking and triumphant tone of his words spilled over her heated senses like icy water and Sienna froze in disbelief.

What the hell was she doing?

With a wrenching effort she tore herself away, staring at him wide-eyed. Her breathing was ragged and her pulse was racing like a piston as she struggled to calm herself, smoothing down her dress frantically. Her face was on fire, and so, too—surely—was her heart. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

His smile was arrogant, though his eyes were cold. ‘Exactly what you wanted me to do.’

‘No!’

‘Yes. You are hungry for me,’ he taunted. ‘I could do it to you right now and you would not stop me.’

Too angry and uncaring to think of the consequences, Sienna raised her hand as if to strike him, but he reacted instantly—quicker and more deadly than a cobra as he caught her wrist in his hand.

‘You dare to strike the Sheikh?’ he thundered.

‘You dare to foist yourself on me?’

‘Foist?’ Giving a cruel laugh, he dropped her hand. He had demonstrated his superior speed and dexterity—she would not be fool enough to try that again. ‘I can think of many different words to describe a woman grinding her hips against a man in silent plea to have him enter her—but foist is not one which springs to mind.’

She felt the flush of mortification. ‘You…you…’

‘Oh, spare me your empty insults, Sienna. They count for absolutely nothing when we both know that what I say is true. You want me,’ he stated flatly.

‘Don’t flatter yourself!’

‘Ah! Denial is such a powerful force, is it not?’ he mused. ‘Especially in women.’

As well as weaving subtle mazes with his clever words, was he telling the truth? Did she want him still? Maybe physically, yes. But emotionally—never! Just because you know which buttons to press, and all the ways to seduce a woman—’

‘Now you are flattering me,’ he interposed cruelly.

‘It doesn’t mean she necessarily wants you,’ she stormed. ‘It just means that her body is reacting as it has been conditioned to do by nature—there’s a world of difference.’

‘And do you turn on so easily for all men?’

‘You’re disgusting!’

‘You have grown fiery,’ he observed, noticing that she had chosen not to answer the question—though his arrogant pride would not allow him to believe that she would melt for another man in quite the way she did for him. ‘Very fiery. Yes. I like that in a woman.’

‘But I’m not looking for your approval. I have grown up, Hashim—I’m no longer the docile young girl who thought you were the greatest thing since sliced bread!’

It was both the right thing and the wrong thing to say, for while it burst the strangely seductive bubble of thwarted desire, it reminded him of her lying and cheating and duplicity.

‘Yes, so docile,’ he hissed like a rattlesnake. ‘So young and so innocent! Like hell you were.’

She stared at the stark condemnation which was sparking from his eyes. He had judged her, and found her wanting. And, damn him, he was right—she was still wanting. Wanting him. ‘Oh, Hashim, I was innocent in so many ways,’ she said, her voice sad now. ‘Why don’t we forget the whole thing? Let me just walk out of this door right now and out of your life for ever.’

Was she mad? Did she not recognise his intent, nor realise that when he desired something it was always his for the taking? His mouth hardened. No, of course she hadn’t recognised it—how could she when she had never seen it before? Her experience with him had been bizarre—and unique. Five years ago he had found himself bewitched by her and he had tempered his usual autocratic wishes—except that it had seemed to happen without any conscious effort on his part.

Now let her see the real Hashim! Who treated women as they liked to be treated! If you were cold and disdainful it seemed to make them want you more—never was a woman more giving in the bedroom than to a man who had treated her with contempt.

‘I think you forget yourself,’ he said icily. ‘I have hired your services and therefore you will behave as such. You will show me respect and listen to my wishes.’

‘Respect?’ she echoed. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

‘Yes, respect,’ he ground out. ‘That is if you know the meaning of the word.’