The Sheikh's Captive Mistress Read Free Page B

how he was nothing but a kidnapper and a damn coward, even hiding his plans from his father. Anything she could do or say to keep herself from kissing him.
    She shouldn’t have worked so hard.
    Munir leaned in the rest of the way and grabbed her neck. His lips were on hers then, hungry and demanding. Emma yielded to his power and felt his tongue invade her mouth, soon stroking her own. One of his hands reached lower, grabbing onto her ass and squeezing her ample hip. She moaned despite everything and felt a part of her revel in the way his tongue danced with her own.
    The kiss only lasted a few moments, and he was the one to break it off.
    When he did, there was a knowing smirk on his face.
    “ Habbibi , you are not as recalcitrant as you think.”
    Emma blinked back at him and her mind snapped back to itself. No, I’m not easy like this, won’t be won over by lines and a damn kiss. She reached back and slapped him.
    “Go to hell.”
    He laughed and rubbed at his cheek. “Feisty, everything I hoped for. I can play this game far longer than you can, Emma. Now off to your quarters.
    ***
     
    Munir paced across the expanse of his bedroom. While he was able to keep up the façade of confidence and unrestrained sexuality with Emma for a time, it was easier to relax when she was gone. He burned for the feisty American, wanted her to feel the same fires in her soul that he felt for her. From the moment he’d seen her on press footage about her father and his family, he’d been attracted to her. How could one not be? Those soft curves, that gorgeous blonde hair, so light it was almost white, and big blue eyes he could stare into for days. But it was deeper than that. The biggest problem was that, truly, he meant it when he said he wanted her to be his sheikha, his queen. If she refused him forever, actually did hate him, he would never be able to bear it.
    But that wasn’t the persona she needed to see. Like his father before him, Munir would remain calm and collected. He would broadcast all the confidence he needed to make Emma love him. Even if most of that image was based on bravado, he would master that attitude. After all, a true king would be regal and confident in his bearing at all times. He just had to learn to do that more. His father had always had a gift for that. Even Kashif commanded a room when he consulted with the soldiers. Munir always felt, though, that he was acting a part, that he was too gentle underneath. He’d spent his whole life trying to squelch that side of himself, to be the leader his father so badly wanted.
    “Oh, Allah, let this work,” he said, quietly to himself, turning to see Naseem, his oldest and most trusted guard enter the room.
    The other man had lost his left eye stopping an assassin from killing his father a few years before Munir had even been born. The milky white eyeball and the long scar remaining added an air of menace, making him a mythic figure in his own right. Everyone in the kingdom of Yoman knew who Naseem was and what he had willingly borne for the Yassin family.
    No one fucked with him, either.
    “Naseem, I was relaxing.”
    “Yes, I’ve been told it can be most stressful to wait for the delivery of certain types of packages.”
    “You don’t approve?”
    “Actually, sir, she’s quite spirited. I enjoy her attitude and, frankly, the way she cowed your brother was impressive. She’s an American, however, and the sooner she’s out of here and back with the senator, the better. We just need the treaty to go our way, and I see the wisdom in that.”
    Munir stilled, unsure of how to continue. He knew he couldn’t get the guards and his brother to go along on the mission – after all, most days they still deferred to his ailing father – if he’d told them the true extent of what he’d been planning, they wouldn’t have obeyed. No one wanted an American on the throne as his queen, not a Western infidel. Munir still had no idea how to explain to his father