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"But in the meantime, my little vixen..."
I'm starting to feel really feverish and restless again, and it's making me question my hearing. Did he really say 'my little vixen'? Or maybe I heard it wrong, and the sheikh actually said 'my littlevillain'?
"I'd like a taste of you."
That's it.Something is definitely wrong with my ears, since he can't possibly have said—-
"Now."
That one word tells me two things.
Firstly: I did hear him right.
The sheikh actually said what he said—-
I'd like a taste of you.
And secondly: this royal son of a bitch is out of his fucking head if he thinks I'll let give him what he wants.
I turn around to make a run for it, but I've barely taken a step when the sheikh comes for me—-
Aaaaaah!
All I can do is scream as his big hard body slams into me, and I suddenly end up with my wrists behind my back, and my heaving breasts squashed up against the door.
God, no!
His hand clamps down over my mouth before I can scream, and as his powerful form presses harder against mine, all I can do is cry out against his palm as a sensory overload of intangibles bombard me from every direction.
There's the heat of his breath tickling my hair. The invincible wall of muscles weighing down on my spine and the sinfully earthy scent of his skin. Every one of these things are dizzyingly new to me, and the weight of it all threatens to swallow me whole.
I don't understand.
Is this fear I'm feeling or something even more terrifying?
"Here are your choices, Seven."
The sheikh croons into my ear like he has all the time in the world to torture and play with me, and the thought makes me shudder and burn.
God, oh God, what the hell is happening to my body?
My skin should be crawling by now, but the sound of his voice only makes me inexplicably sensitive to the blatant rawness of his masculinity.
"If you look at each corner of this room—-"
My gaze is already darting to the corners as he speaks, and I feel sick to my stomach at what I see. There are security cameraseverywhere.
Everywhere, dammit!
"You understand, don't you?"
I wish I didn't, but I do.
"I have the necessary evidence to get you arrested...if that is what you choose."
A thrumming silence follows, and even though I hate myself for taking the bait, I hear myself ask stiltedly in the end—-
"What's my other choice?"
