What is Tarik saying?
Jass struggled to come out of her haze and listen, but
the blood boiled in her ears. With her pulse screaming
through her veins as though she were pulling down five Gs,
her body throbbed with passion. And all because of the
masculine body currently lying suggestively between her
legs.
Geez. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to
snap herself out of it. They were supposedly working a
sting. She was Celile. But he was not the real Zohdi.
Work. Work. Work. This was an important
assignment and not the most intimate experience she’d ever
had. Worse even than the idea of taking a risk with her
career, there’d been a camera trained on them this whole
time.
She’d lost her mind. But, oh man, what a terrific way
to go insane. The sexual chemistry between the two of them
left her soaring. Tarik’s mere touch jolted her with an
intense excitement, sparking a conflagration that had sent
her down in flames. His naked and aroused body surprised
her, but it shouldn’t have. He was so much more than she
imagined. The most potent male she’d ever seen.
Like spontaneous combustion, she’d found herself wet and
set to explode.
But they were only acting at their mission. Right?
Remember the mission.
"Hold on." Tarik left her long enough to drag the covers
up and over their heads, covering them completely from view.
How could he remain unaffected? Well, not totally
unaffected, she’d noticed. He was hot and pulsing…and
huge. He’d been ready just like she was.
But his mind had stayed in the game. A trait she’d
better learn how to mimic.
"Laugh," he demanded in a raspy whisper. "Or giggle.
Anything that makes it seem as though we’re doing what it
looks like in this bed."
His words actually made some sense through her clearing
fog. At last. She wiggled out from underneath his body
and rolled over to face him—while both of them remained
hidden under the covers.
Watching him closely, she opened her mouth and let out
one of the loudest moans imaginable. "Ah. Ah. Ah." She
forced the volume higher. "Oh, Zohdi. Oh. Oh."
Finally, she wound herself up and screamed
incoherently. A thing she had never done during the throes
of passion in her entire lifetime.
Tarik actually smiled as he murmured low, "Nice work,
agent. I’d like a repeat performance someday. But not for
the cameras."
That did it. He had to move away. Now.
"Get out of bed and turn off the lights, Zohdi." She
gritted her teeth. "And then bring me a robe."
Why hadn’t the man thought to turn out the lights in the
first place?
In a hushed tone, Tarik answered. "Okay, but I’m
betting turning off the lights won’t help. The camera is
probably NVC, night vision capable. Most surveillance
equipment is set up that way. I’ll gladly get the robes."
He scowled and rolled out from under the blankets, leaving
her covered and furious.
Seconds later he pulled down the covers and immediately
threw one of the terry bath robes over her. "Get up,
Celile," he announced in a loud voice. "You need a shower
and I have work to do on the laptop."
"What did you say?" It was easy to fake a little
indignation. She felt every bit of Celile’s part.
Tarik turned his back. "Get up."
"Well, isn’t that romantic? You bastard." She shoved
her arms into the robe and stood. "I’m going. But if you
think for one minute that you’re in for a repeat
performance tonight, you are out of your mind. You and
your damned laptop can sleep out on the terrace."
Grasping the robe around her like a shield, Jass marched
into the bathroom and slammed the door. Once alone and out
of camera range, she leaned both hands heavily on the
countertop. Hanging her head and breathing in and out
through her mouth, she tried to calm her shaky nerves.
Realization began to sink in. He had actually picked a
fight in order to save them from having to sleep together
tonight. The whole scene back there suddenly became
clear. Everything he’d done in the bedroom—stripping
himself and not her, carrying her to the bed and covering
them from view—all of it was done for her benefit.
To save her from embarrassment.