In the Shadow of the Selkie
Page 9
Allard lifted his head to see her eyes clamped tightly shut and her hand knotted into a fist at her throat. He knew she wanted, he could smell the sweet desire that drifted from her flesh, but she was unwilling to admit it, too afraid to let herself go.
With a sigh of regret, Allard tucked her so soft breast back into the gown. This was a deal he would not keep. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest as he untangled his fingers from Jo’s hair and bent to pick up the flimsy shawl and wrap it around her shoulders again.
Jane Seville would be proud of him, he thought, wanting to kick her lovely ass. He had learned. Coercion almost amounted to force, especially since he knew how much Jo was willing to give for her cause.
Jo blinked one eye open in confusion. “Did I do something wrong?” Her words were half muffled, quiet and concerned.
Allard traced a finger down her cheek. “I will not trade my services for sex.”
She grabbed his hand and placed it again on her breast. Her own fingers were as cold as ice. “I need you to take this case. Please, whatever you want.”
“Princess—”
“Why on earth do you call me by that silly title?” A spark of defiance blazed in her eyes.
Much better, Allard thought. “Princess? You are my most fascinating princess of thieves.” He chuckled when her mouth opened and instantly shut again.
She frowned and pressed his hand harder against her still turgid nipple. Allard wanted to scream in frustration. And then he wanted to mouth that tender flesh again, dragging his lips lower and lower until he could feel her golden curls wet against his cheek as he slipped his tongue into the heat and need of her. Then he wanted her to return the favor in full and greater measure.
“You will come to my bed, make no mistake about that,” he assured her, allowing his thumb to rasp over her breast. Her breath caught in her throat and he knew he was making progress, so he let his other hand drop to rest at the top of her thigh. Her hips jerked to meet his touch. This time the cry escaped her. “So, you want as much as I do.” His fingers slipped between her legs and he rubbed them slowly against her, feeling for the outline of her body beneath the heavy folds of cloth.
His own breath caught when she shifted her legs apart, ever so slightly pushing back against his hand. “My princess,” he whispered as he finally let his lips take hers.
Peppermint candy. She still tasted of peppermint, clean and fresh. Allard drank deep of her, thrusting his tongue hard into her mouth as his hand slid faster against her sex. He fumbled at the material, searching eagerly for the knot of her clit, rumbling his satisfaction into her mouth when his fingers finally found the spot he sought.
An answering sound whispered from her throat, as her arms twined around his neck and she opened freely to his embrace. Her tongue answered the demand of his as he continued the kiss. His cock roared to brand new life, his balls tightening in expectation, warring with his conscience as they never had before. But it was a glorious war. He felt more alive than he had in months, aroused and intrigued and amazingly happy.
Then his mind turned to more important matters as he felt Jo’s body begin to shake.
“Say my name,” he demanded, pulling his mouth away. “And do not dare say Dunmore.” His hand stilled. She buried her face in his neck.
“Allard,” he urged again, giving her a bit of the touch she needed. “Say it.”
“Ah—” she whispered, letting her teeth scrape his skin. “Allard.” So soft he could barely hear it.
“Louder,” he commanded, increasing the pressure on her clit again.
An ancient prophecy. A sheikh's passion. One woman will ignite the flame that fulfills them both.
Mirage
© 2007 Monica Burns
A man without a country…
Half Bedouin, half English, the Viscount Blakeney has always been Sheikh Altair Mazir in his heart. A victim of prejudice from both cultures, he’s learned to trust no one. But a feisty American archeologist and the heat she ignites in him is about to change all that. And more.
An independent woman hunting for a Pharaoh’s treasure…
Alexandra Talbot is used to men questioning her intelligence simply because of her sex. But the mysterious Viscount isn’t like other men. He never questions her ability to find the lost city of Ramesses II, only her resistance to the sinful pleasure of his touch.
An ancient prophecy…
Bound by a Pharaoh’s prophecy, desire flares between them beneath the desert stars. But murder and betrayal turn their quest into a deadly game, pushing their fragile trust to the breaking point.
Their survival hinges on rebuilding that trust.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Mirage:
His tall figure filled the doorway as she flung the door open. She fought to keep breathing. There was only one word to describe him. Magnificent. Unable to take her eyes off him, she struggled to calm her erratic heartbeat. Somewhere in the back of her mind, curiosity made her question why he was dressed like one of the natives. The thought was a fleeting one as she fought to keep her senses from responding to his commanding presence.
Dressed in the dark blue, flowing garment of the Mazir, he looked as if he had been born to wear the desert clothing. No longer the English lord, he was as lean and predatory as a leopard. A utility belt filled with rifle cartridges crossed his chest, while a pistol was tucked into a belt around his waist.
His entire appearance emanated a sense of danger and excitement. Beneath his eyes, Mazir tribal symbols stained his brown cheeks. His wavy brown hair, no longer restrained by a ribbon, tumbled down over his shoulders. The image of spiking her fingers through the dark, glossy curls sent a stream of liquid fire through her.
Good lord, she barely knew the man, and yet here she was ready to offer herself to him. She drew in a sharp breath, as she looked up into the warmth of his brown eyes.
“Good morning,” he murmured. Alarm bells went off in her head at the sound of his husky greeting. If she were to open her mouth, she was certain more than a dozen butterflies would flee their captivity in her stomach.
“Good…morning.” The breathless quality of her voice dismayed her. Oh God, she sounded as flustered as she felt. The sudden glint of satisfaction in his eyes made the fluttering wings in her stomach stir restlessly. Her voice had revealed far too much about the effect he had on her. Desperate to regain control of her senses, she swallowed the sensual urges threatening to take control.
“I…you…you look so different. Not like yourself at all.”
“And how do you think I should look, Alex?” His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her intently.
The dark, disturbing expression in his gaze sent her heart slamming into her chest. Tiny frissons caressed her skin as his gaze slid over her. Aroused by the mysteriously hungry look in his eyes, she shook her head as if doing so would help clear her thoughts as well as the desire curling inside her.
“It’s just that you surprised me. I wasn’t expecting to see you dressed like a Mazir.”
“I find the gambaz cooler and more comfortable than my English clothes.”
She nodded at his explanation. Oddly enough, he did look comfortable. Far more so than when he was wearing the starched shirt and tie he usually wore. The gambaz enhanced the dangerous edge of his darkly handsome features.
Did the man have any idea how devastating he was dressed like a Bedouin? There was a wicked savagery about him that tantalized her senses and made her breath hitch. Trying to suppress the urge to reach out and touch him, she inhaled a deep breath.
“Is something wrong, Alex?” The gleam in his eye made the palms of her hands damp.
“No, not at all.” She forced the words past her lips, alarmed by the need building inside her.
A brown finger traced the outline of her lips as he leaned toward her. Cedarwood and sweet fennel tempted her senses. “Liar,” he whispered, as a smile of satisfaction curved his mouth. “Your heart is beating as if you were a jerb
oa caught in the claws of a leopard.”
His analogy was ironic given she’d likened him to a leopard earlier. Especially when she really did feel just like a mouse trapped beneath his masterful gaze. The dark brown eyes holding her gaze hostage glittered with a dangerous light. Drinking in the masculine scent of him, her lungs tugged in a sharp breath of need. She wanted him to kiss her. Appalled, she tried to find a footing on the slippery path she was treading. Diversion. That’s what was called for—a diversion.
“I…I…why do you wear the Mazir marks on your cheeks?” She almost blew out a whoosh of air as she asked the question with great relief. That would help lessen this tension between them.
“They reflect the sunlight and protect my eyes. But they’re also a sign of my respect for the Mazir.” He arched an eyebrow at her as his finger trailed along the edge of her jaw in a slow, seductive stroke. The touch singed every nerve in his path. “But that’s not what you really wanted to ask me, is it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She took a quick step back from him.
“Ah, so you didn’t want to ask when we were to visit the Pyramids. As you wish.” As he turned away from her, she sprang forward. The man was tormenting her by making her think he wouldn’t take her to the Pyramids. Determined to halt his departure, she clutched at his arm. How soft the material of his robe was beneath her fingers.
“Don’t you dare tease me like that!”
A quick flame came to life in his dark eyes as he turned and looked down into her face. The slight smile curving his lips made her heart race. The man was far too attractive for his own good.
“How would you like me tease you, Alex?”
She took a quick step backward at the surprising question. With an abrupt shake of her head, she pressed her hand against his chest as he followed her.
“I don’t…I meant…I want to visit the Pyramids.”
“I see. So you weren’t hoping I’d find some other way to tease you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spluttered.
His dark hand reached out to caress her cheek. No. If he kissed her again, she wouldn’t be able to control the desire shooting through every part of her body. She took another step back. Once again, he followed her. Now the space between them was almost nonexistent. He lowered his head. Dear Lord, he smelled wonderful. He had an earthy male scent that tormented her senses. A shiver pulsed through her as the warmth of his breath stirred the wisps of hair at her ear.
“Don’t you? That’s disappointing because I’m finding it increasingly difficult to get the image of your luscious body out of my head.”
She gasped at the seductive heat of his words. He nipped at her ear lobe and reason slipped out of her head.
“Do you know what I dreamed about last night, Alex? I dreamed I was sucking on those beautiful, dusky nipples of yours.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered, unable to say anything else.
“Can you imagine what else I dreamed about? Shall I tell you?”
Don’t moan, Alex. Whatever you do, don’t moan. She swayed into him, her fingers splayed across the upper part of his chest.
No.
No. This wasn’t good at all.
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