The Desert Virgin

A room dominated by a bed the size of a stage.

He dumped her on it, walked to the doors and shot the brass bolts.

“Alone at last,” he said coldly.

Leanna scrambled back against the headboard. “Mr. Knight,” she said desperately, “I know what you think…”

He gave a low, dangerous laugh. “I’ll bet you do.”

“But you’re wrong. I’m not… I’m not what the sultan…” Her eyes widened as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Wait. Please. You don’t—you don’t understand.”

His gaze dropped to her breasts, all but spilling from the torn bra she clutched like a lifeline.

“Let go of it.”

“What?”

“Let go of that thing.” He looked up, his smile icy enough to freeze the marrow of her bones. “I like what I saw in the courtyard, Layla. I want to see it again.”

“My name isn’t Layla. It’s—”

“I don’t give a damn what your name is. We’re not going to have wine and exchange phone numbers. We’re going straight to the main event.” His voice roughened. “Let go of the bra.”

“I’m not a—a whore,” she said desperately. “I’m not anything Asaad said I was.”

Knight’s face turned hard. “No games, baby. You think I’m in the mood to play the barbarian and the virgin, I’ll tell you right now that I’m not.”

“I’m not playing anything. I’m just trying to—”

“How do you want to do this?

“I don’t—I don’t follow the…”

“The easy way?” His tone softened, turned to raw silk. “You want, I can make this good for you.”

“I don’t want you to make this anything for me! I keep telling you, I’m an American, just like you.”

“You’re not anything like me.” He bared his teeth in a chilling grin. “If you were, I wouldn’t want you in my bed.”

“Give me a minute. Just one minute. I can explain everything. Asaad said things about me, but—”

“But they aren’t true.”

“Yes!” Her voice rose in excitement. “Oh, thank God! You do understand! You—you… What are you doing?”

It was an unnecessary question. What he was doing was horrifyingly obvious.

He was getting undressed. Toeing off his boots. Shrugging off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor.

Leanna’s heart jammed in her throat.

She’d felt his strength when he carried her but seeing him like this, his chest exposed, his shoulders bare, she knew she had no chance against him. The man who owned her for the night was as sleek as a panther, and just as deadly.

He’d said he wasn’t in the mood for games but he was playing a game of his own, letting her babble and beg for mercy. Maybe it amused him. All she could be certain of was that when he tired of it, he’d overpower her without any effort at all.

“I know you’re angry at me, but—”

“I’m not anything at you, Layla, except tired of hearing you talk.”

“What I said to you down there, what I said to you… I just wanted to get your attention.”

“Yeah. Well, you got it.”

“I had to find a way to be alone with you.”

“I’m touched.”

His hands were at his belt, undoing the buckle. At his fly, opening the button above the zipper, revealing the start of a line of silky hair that arrowed down, down, down…

Terror skittered through her like a small animal clawing for escape but she knew better than to let it show. That might excite him even more.

“I need your help. I swear it! Just hear me out and—”

“You haven’t answered my question.” He started toward her, his gaze moving over her breasts, her belly, her thighs. “I can take you slowly. Or I can take you without any preliminaries. It’s your call.”

Leanna choked back a sob as he reached the bed. She tried to roll away but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her into the center of the mattress.

“The hard way,” he growled. “That’s fine with me.”

“No,” she panted, and gave up any attempt at reason. He was on her now and she fought for her life, kicking, bucking, kicking again, aiming for his groin, catching him in the gut with her knee instead.

“Okay,” he said grimly, “that’s it.”

His hands were quick and hard as he undid the rope around her wrists, then dragged her arms over her head and bound them to the headboard. When she kicked harder, he whipped the belt from his jeans and wound it around her right ankle, securing it to a footpost before rolling from the bed and returning with a scarf, a tie, something bright and silky that he looped around her left ankle and tied to the other footpost.

Terror swooped down on her, smothering her in feathery black wings. She opened her mouth and her scream, shrill and high, pierced the air.

“Scream,” he said. “That’s fine with me. You can damned well bet we’ve got a crowd listening at the door. You scream, you’ll liven up the show.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, because a whisper was all she was capable of now, “please, don’t, don’t, don’t.”

“Why not?” he said coldly. “Because I haven’t got the price of admission?”

He came down on the bed beside her. “Oh God,” Leanna said. She turned her face away, closed her eyes and let the tears come.

All she could do now was survive.

She was good, Cam thought. He had to give her that.