sister had decided it would be amusing to give her to him as a gift.
In other words, none of the usual rules applied.
The woman was his. He could do as he wanted with her. And if what she thought he wanted was some rough sex, he could oblige. He could play along until it was time to toss her out.
A little rough treatment, maybe even a scare, was exactly what Amanda Benning deserved. She was a creature of no morals, willing to offer her body for information she could sell to the highest bidder.
Oh, yes. A little scare would do Amanda Benning just fine.
She was struggling in earnest now, not just trying to drag her mouth from his but fighting him, shoving her fists against his chest, doing her best to free herself from his arms.
Nick laughed against her mouth, spun her around, pressed her back against the silk-covered wall. He caught her wrists, entwined his fingers with hers and flattened her hands against the wall on either side of her.
She tried to scream. He caught her bottom lip in his teeth, moved closer, brushed his body against her.
God, she was so warm. Heat seemed to radiate from her skin. And she was soft. Her breasts. Her belly. Her mouth. Her hot, luscious mouth. He could taste it now, not only the fear but what lay beyond it, the sweet taste of the woman herself.
His body hardened, became steel. There was a roaring in his ears. Nick wanted to carry her to the bed, strip her of her clothes, bury himself deep inside her. Need for her sang in his blood, raced through every muscle.
The part of his brain that still functioned told him he was insane. He was kissing a woman his sister had bought as a joke, a woman with a bag filled with professional tricks. She was pretending she didn’t want him, and he was, what?
He was getting turned on.
It was just that she fitted his arms so well. That her hair felt so silken against his cheek. That she smelled sweet, the way he’d assumed she would taste. The way he wanted her to taste, he thought. The hell with it. She wanted to give a performance? All right. He would comply, but he was changing the rules.
He wasn’t going to take her. He was going to seduce her.
“Amanda,” he said softly.
Her lashes flew up. Her eyes met his.
“Don’t fight me,” he whispered, and kissed her. Gently. Tenderly. His mouth moved against hers, over and over; his teeth nipped lightly at her bottom lip. And, gradually, her mouth began to soften. She made a little sound, a whimper, and her body melted against his.
Nick groaned at the stunning sweetness of her surrender. He wanted to let go of her wrists and slide his hands down her spine, stroke the satin that was her skin, cup her bottom and lift her up into the urgency of his erection. When her hands tugged at his, seeking freedom, pleasure rocketed through him. He understood what she wanted, that she sought the freedom to touch him, explore him. It was what he wanted, too. He’d forgotten everything except that he was on fire for the woman in his arms.
He touched the tip of his tongue to the seam of her lips as he let go of her wrists and took her face in his hands. His palms cupped her cheeks; he tilted her head back so that her golden hair feathered like silk over the tips of his fingers, so that he could slant his mouth hungrily over hers—
—so that her knee could catch him right where he lived and drive every last breath of air from his lungs.
A strangled gasp of agony burst from his lips. Nick doubled over and clutched his groin.
“Amanda?” he croaked, and got his chin up just in time to see her coming at him again.
“You no-good bastard!”
He was hurting. The pain was gut-deep, but he fought it, jumped out of her path, caught her as she flew by and flung her on the bed. She landed hard, rolled to her side, sat up and almost got her feet on the floor, but by then he’d recovered enough to come down on top of her.
She called him a name he’d only heard a couple of times in his life and pummeled him with her fists.
“Get off me!”
It was like wrestling with a wildcat. She was small and slender but she moved fast, and it didn’t help that it still felt as if his scrotum was seeking shelter halfway up his belly.
Nick took a blow on his chin, another in the corner of his eye. He grabbed for her hands, captured them and pinned them high over her head.
“You little bitch,” he said, straddling her hips.
Amanda bucked like an unbroken mare, her hips arcing up, then down.
“Stop it.” He leaned toward her, his eyes hot with anger. “Damn you, woman, did you hear what I said? Stop!”
She didn’t. She bucked again, her body moving against his, her breasts heaving, her golden hair disheveled against the blue silk pillows. Her eyes were wild, the pupils huge and black and encircled by rims of gold. She was panting through parted lips; he could see the flash of her small white teeth, the pink of her tongue. Her excuse of a dress was ruined; one thin red silk strap hung off her shoulder, exposing the upper curve of a creamy breast. The skirt had ridden up her hips. He could see the strip of black lace that hid the feminine delta between her thighs.
And all at once, he felt fine. No more pain, just the realization that he was hard, swollen and aroused, separated from the woman beneath him by nothing but his trousers and that scrap of sexy lace.
The air in the room crackled with electricity.
He became still. She did, too. Her eyes met his, and for the first time, what he saw in them took his breath away.
“No,” she whispered, but his mouth was already coming down on hers.
She held back; he could feel her tremble.
“Yes,” he said softly, and kissed her again. “Amanda…”
She moaned. Her lashes fell to her cheeks and she opened her mouth to his. Her surrender was real. Her need was, too. He could feel it in the pliancy of her body, taste it in the silken heat of her kiss.
Nick let go of her hands and gathered her against him. She moaned again and dug her hands into his hair, clutching the dark curling strands with greedy fists.
Greedy. Yes, that was the way she felt. Greedy for his mouth, for his touch. For the feel of Nicholas al Rashid deep inside her.
It was crazy. She didn’t know this man, and what little she did know, she didn’t like. Moments ago, she’d been fighting him off….
Her breath caught as he rolled onto his side and took her with him. He stroked his hand down her spine, then up again. All the way up, so that his thumbs brushed lightly over her breasts.
“Tell me you want me,” he said.
His voice was as soft as velvet, as rough as gravel. His breath whispered against her throat as he licked the flesh where her neck joined her shoulder, and she moaned.
“Tell me,” he
