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“No. Cam.” She twisted against him, but he didn’t stop. His hands were under her shirt, cupping her backside, lifting her, lifting her… “Stop it,” she said, her voice sharp with panic. “I don’t want to do this!”
At first, she thought he hadn’t heard her, or didn’t want to hear her. Then, after what seemed a long, long time, his arms dropped to his sides.
“You play dangerous games, Salome.”
His eyes were as cold and hard as green glass. For the first time since he’d tossed her out of the Hummer, Leanna felt a curl of fear in her belly, but she knew better than to show it.
If you weren’t strong enough to fight off an eagle’s attack, you needed the courage to face it.
“I made a mistake.”
“Damned right, you did.”
“I realized that—that I didn’t want to do this. I want—”
She cried out as he grasped her wrist and jerked her arm behind her back.
“I know exactly what you want,” he growled. “Me, crawling up the wall because you’ve teased me so long my brain’s turned to mush.”
“You’re wrong!And you’re hurting me.” Desperately, she tried to wrench free. “Let me go! If you don’t—”
“What? You’ll scream?” He laughed. “No matter what Shalla hears coming from this room, she won’t do a thing. Nothing’s changed in this part of the world in a thousand years, Salome. Mention women’s rights around here, you’ll draw a blank look.” His smile faded; he lowered his head until their faces were inches apart. “I’m in charge. You’re disposable. Got that?”
Salome’s face had lost all its color. She was trying her best to stand up to him but she was shaking like a leaf.
Hell, he thought, and let go of her with an exaggerated lifting of his hands, as if he’d just realized he was touching something he’d never intended to touch.
“I’m finished with this crap, Salome. Take your bath, do whatever the hell you want. Just be sure you keep away from me because if you try playing games again, I promise you, I’ll win.”
A sob burst from her throat as she flew past him.
He almost laughed.
Anybody watching this little scene would have thought she was a virgin running for her life. And that he, without question, was the villain.
The bathroom door slammed. The bolt shot home, loud as the crack of a rifle. Who gave a damn? It was a meaningless gesture anyway. Did she really think a lock would protect her if he changed his mind?
Cam folded his arms and glared at the door.
How come he couldn’t hear the water running in the tub? Because, he thought grimly, because she was probably leaning against the wall, laughing now that he’d tumbled for her latest routine.
She’d been turning him on and off like a machine since he’d first set eyes on her.
A muscle knotted in his jaw.
And he’d been idiot enough to let her do it.
He swung away from the locked door, paced the bedroom like a tiger trapped in a cage. Too bad he hadn’t been keeping score. By now, it was probably zero for the home team and one hundred for hers.
Still no sound of running water. She was in there, laughing at her latest victory and he was out here, leaving footprints in the carpet.
But it would get old, after a while. She’d tire of enjoying herself at his expense. She’d turn on the water and take off her tattered clothes. The shirt. Then the thong. She’d pin up that silken mass of hair that tumbled in golden waves over her breasts.
Suddenly the room seemed airless.
If he believed the sultan, he’d saved her pretty neck from the chopping block. He’d gotten her out of Baslaam. And how did she show her thanks?
He glared at the locked door.
