LITMIR.BIZ

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recall what I said earlier. I’ve had a long day, and I am—”

      “Tired.” Asaad winked. “But we are both warriors, and a warrior knows the best way to renew his strength. Unless… Is she not to your liking? She has the morals of a desert viper but you have nothing to fear. My men will stand guard outside your door.”

      Cam almost laughed. He’d just bet they would.

      “She will give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams.”

      “I’m certain she would, Excellency. Still—”

      “Take a better look, Mr. Knight.”

      Asaad cupped the woman’s breast and pinched the nipple through the gold fabric. She flinched but made no sound. Cam jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from grabbing the sultan by the throat. So what if Asaad manhandled her? She was his to do with as he pleased.

      He’d seen worse in his years undercover. Black ops wasn’t for the faint of heart.

      Still, something about what was happening made his belly knot.

      “Touch her yourself, Mr. Knight. See how smooth her skin is.”

      Asaad ran his hand over the woman, from her breasts to her belly. She swallowed hard, her throat visibly constricting, and drew a breath that made her nipples press against the gold cloth that contained them.

      The sultan laughed.

      And Cam felt his body respond.

      He wanted to touch her. Shove Asaad out of the way and put his hands on Layla instead. He despised himself for it but the need burned in his belly, hot as flame.

      He wanted to bare her breasts, see if her nipples were the pink of rose petals or the pale rust of apricots. Taste them, roll them on his tongue while he slid his hand between her thighs, under the thong to the hot, wet center of her.

      He told himself there was a logical reason for this insanity. All the adrenaline he’d burned these last hours, anticipating danger, meeting it, being on constant guard…

      Any man would be more than ready for the release you found in sex. Never mind that the woman was a whore, a thief and worse. That she’d sold herself to God only knew how many men.

      She was beautiful, and he wanted her…but he wouldn’t take her. She was a golden trap.

      Cam stepped back, drove every X-rated image from his head.

      “Do what you want with her,” he said coldly. “I’m not interested.”

      There was a silence. Then the woman’s head came up. Her lips curved in an insolent smile as her eyes swept over him, lingered on the taut fabric at his groin, then rose to his face.

      “What he means, Lord Asaad,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving Cam’s, “is that he’s not man enough to use me properly.”

      She spoke in English but the insult was clear. A collective roar went up from the assembled men. After a shocked moment, the sultan threw back his head and shouted with laughter.

      The world went black, narrowed down to only the woman’s taunting smile and the contempt on the face of the sultan.

      Cam growled an obscenity, pushed past him, curled his hand around the narrow band that joined the golden cups of the woman’s bra and ripped it in half.

      Her face went white. She threw up her bound hands in a frantic attempt to cover herself but Cam grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands down.

      Now, the only sound in the vast courtyard was the rasp of his breath.

      “You like to play rough?” he said softly. His mouth twisted in a cold smile. Slowly, purposefully, he let his eyes sweep over her.

      Her breasts were perfect. Round and high, just the size to fill his palms. The tips, beaded by the rapidly chilling night breeze, were the shade of ripe apricots.

      “Very nice,” he said in a voice he barely recognized as his own.

      Eyes locked to hers, he lifted his hand, ran his knuckles lightly over her breasts. When she tried to jerk away, her guards grabbed her arms and forced her to stand still as Cam stroked her nipples, warm silk against his fingertips.

      “I’ve changed my mind,” he said thickly. “I’ll take her.”

      Her scream was lost in the delighted howl of the crowd as he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the palace.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THE laughing crowd of barbarians parted like the Red Sea as the American strode through it.

      Leanna had come up with a plan, but it had all gone wrong.

      A hand reached out, fondled her bottom. She shrieked. The pig who’d touched her said something that made the others laugh even harder.

      “Please,” she gasped to her captor, “please, you’ve got this all wrong.”

      He grunted and shifted her weight. For all she knew, he couldn’t even hear her. She was hanging over his shoulder like a bag of laundry, bound hands clutching desperately at the ragged ends of her bra.

      As if modesty mattered at a time like this.

      As if anything mattered, except forcing this man to listen.

      A couple of hours back, it had all seemed so clear. What she’d do, how she’d do it. The giants had brought her to the sultan who’d looked her over and smiled as if she were a mouse in the paws of a cat.

      “Very nice,” he’d said softly.

      Then he’d told her that he’d have to put off their first time together, as if, dear God, as if being raped by him was something to look forward to.

      “I have a guest,” he’d said, “an American business associate. Take him to bed, keep him occupied so that he hears and sees only you. I will reward you by having you taken to the airport and sent home.”

      And Santa and the Easter Bunny were kissing cousins.

      Asaad would never set her free, but Leanna had decided that seeming to go along with things was her best bet.

      She’d be brought to the American’s room like a gift-wrapped package. The door would shut, he’d smile at his luck and she’d say, very softly because the walls surely had ears, Thank God you’ve come. I’m an American, I was kidnapped. I’m supposed to keep you busy so that you’re deaf and blind to whatever the sultan is planning to do to you. We have to get out of this horrible place before that happens.

      Instead she’d been delivered like a package, in front of the sultan. Okay, she’d thought. She’d wait until she and the American were alone.

      It had never occurred to her he’d refuse Asaad’s gift.

      The man’s eyes had glinted with desire when he saw her. His body had quickened. It had been impossible not to notice.

      And then his hot stare had turned to ice. She had no idea why. She’d had to do something, and fast.

      The way he looked—the hard face and muscled body, the stubble on his jaw, the faded jeans and leather boots—were almost overtly masculine. This was a man who wouldn’t take an insult lightly.

      So she’d deliberately taunted him. That was the good news.

      The bad was that it had worked too well. He’d ripped her bra in half, handled her with an icy lust that terrified her more than anything that had happened yet…

      But it wasn’t too late. He was her countryman.

      That had to count for something.

      The guards at the palace doors snickered as he marched past them. The doors swung shut and she and the American were alone.

      Now, she told herself, and took a breath. Despite everything,

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