Breathless in a Bedouin tent
With the future of the Skavanga diamond mine in jeopardy, heiress Britt Skavanga needs an injection of cash-fast. She finds it in the mysterious Arabian investor known only as Emir...
Britt travels to the desert kingdom of Kareshi to confront her arrogant benefactor. If diamonds are in Britt's blood, then the scorching desert sand runs through Sheikh Sharif al Kareshi's. He's determined to show arctic beauty Britt how things are really done in Kareshi, including how hot nights in the desert can be...
‘Ms Skavanga –’
Emir’s touch on her skin was an incendiary device.
His hand on her arm, preventing her from leaving, was an outrage.
‘Britt,’ he murmured in a voice that held her still. 'It seems we have a timing problem.’
In that he was correct. There was no time. She needed the consortium’s money now.
‘There is a solution, if you will allow me to take it?’
She turned to look at him and sucked in a shocked breath. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Emir was not talking about business. The rumours about Kareshi came flooding back to her... the sultry air, the heat and passion of the people... the erotic expertise said to prevail in the country. Surely no civilised businessman would hint at such a thing within an hour of meeting her?
Emir promised pleasure. He promised forgetfulness, and for however short a time the prospect of that seemed preferable to doing battle endlessly on every front. How would it feel to have this big man hold her and have those strong hands bring her pleasure?
She must have swayed towards him, for the next thing she knew he was holding her in front of him. ‘Why, Britt. If I’d known how you felt we could have arranged something before the meeting.’
He was blunter than she had ever been, blunter than she was prepared for. A shocked breath shot out of her lungs as he dipped his head to brush her lips with his. She was instantly hungry for him , instantly frantic... for more pressure, more intimacy, and for everything to happen fast.
He disappointed her. Emir stare was experienced in every way and he took the greatest pleasure in subjecting her to what turned into an agonising delay. The clock ticked. The tension built. He held her stare as if he knew all about her arousal. When she was finally certain she couldn’t stand any more, he cupped her face in his warm, slightly roughened hands and kissed her deeply.
By mimicking the act her body longed for, he controlled her, and with a throaty growl she urged him on. This was in no way subjugation. This was a fierce coupling between two people who knew exactly what they wanted from each other.
Pressing her back against the boardroom table, Emir set about removing her clothes. He tossed her jacket aside and ripped her blouse open. She exclaimed with anticipation when he lifted her, stripping off her tights and briefs. From that moment on it was a contest between them for who could rid themselves of any barriers first. She was all mindless sensation; hot flesh brushing, touching, cleaving, in a tangle of limbs and hectic breathing, while Emir remained calm and strong and certain.
He felt so good…so very good.
And now there was only her inner voice trying to spoil things for her, screaming a warning, but she shut it off by sheer force of will. She wanted this...needed it. This was every fantasy come true. She watched as Emir protected them both, and saw no reason not to follow her instinct. She was highly sexed and highly resourceful when it came to feeding her appetite.
But was she ready for this?
She forgot everything the moment his hands caressed her breasts. She wanted this – wanted him. Just for once in her life she didn’t want to be the leader, the fighter–
And I wonder what he thinks about you.
To hell with what he thinks about me, she raged against her conscience.
To hell with you, don’t you mean?
Mills & Boon Modern
Harlequin Presents (US)