His Christmas Conquest. Maisey Yates

to keep fantasy totally at bay when a naked sheikh was in the process of kicking open her bedroom door and depositing her on her bed.

      ‘Now,’ he said as he straddled her, his fingers hooking into the soft silk of her knickers.

      She thought he was about to slide them down as he’d done before, but the sudden sound of delicate fabric being ripped made her eyes widen in astonishment and, yes, in excitement, too.

      ‘I can’t...’ Her heart began to hammer against her ribcage. ‘I can’t believe you just did that.’

      ‘Well, I did—and here’s the proof,’ he drawled, dangling the tattered fragments from his index finger like a trophy.

      ‘Those are my best knickers,’ she protested.

      ‘Were,’ he corrected. ‘But they were an obstruction to my desire, and I don’t do obstruction. Ever. You shouldn’t have put them back on, Livvy.’

      ‘That is...outrageous,’ she spluttered.

      ‘Perhaps it is,’ he agreed unsteadily. ‘But you like me being outrageous, don’t you, habibi? You like the sense that I am now free to do this...’ With a light and teasing movement, he began to brush his finger over her searing heat. Back and forth it went in a relentless rhythm so delicious that she almost leaped off the bed.

      ‘Oh,’ she breathed.

      ‘And, of course, I shall make sure you have new panties,’ he said unsteadily.

      She felt his warm breath heating her face as he lowered his lips towards her. ‘What, just so that you can rip them off again?’ she managed indistinctly.

      ‘Of course. Because I think we’re both discovering what we like. You like me being masterful, don’t you, my beauty?’ His finger was continuing with its insistent, stroking movement. ‘Which is very convenient, since being masterful comes very easily to me.’

      Livvy was so aroused by this stage that she barely noticed he must have been in possession of another condom all the while he’d been carrying her upstairs, because he was now stroking it on with practised fingers and easing himself inside her, and she gasped—her cry catching in her throat like a crumb. But this time there was nothing but glorious anticipation coursing around her veins like thick, sweet honey as he entered her. Because this time she knew what was coming.

      ‘Oh, Saladin,’ she said, the tender words tumbling out of her mouth—driven by her sheer delight in the moment and wanting him to know how special this felt. ‘You are...’

      But her breathless words died on her lips as she felt him tense inside her, as if she’d wronged him in some way. She looked up to see that his face had become a mask—stony and forbidding.

      ‘Don’t say soft words to me, because I don’t want to hear them,’ he instructed harshly. ‘I don’t do tenderness, Livvy. Do you understand?’

      ‘S-sure,’ she said uncertainly, and closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see her hurt and confusion.

      But something had changed—although maybe it was just her own perception of what was happening. He seemed like a man on a mission. As if he was intent on demonstrating his sexual superiority—or demonstrating something. Why else did he seem to set about showcasing how many times he could have her orgasm? Of having her plead with him not to stop? Over and over again he made love to her in different ways, as if he intended to make up for all the sex she’d missed out on in her twenty-nine years. Or was it all about power? About showing her who was really the boss?

       CHAPTER NINE

      SALADIN HEARD THE whir of helicopter blades long before the craft entered the immediate airspace of the house. Moving his wrist carefully so as not to wake Livvy, he glanced at his watch and gave a small nod of satisfaction. Exactly on time and exactly as he had instructed.

      He glanced over at the head that was lying next to him—Livvy’s bright hair spread out over the pillow. Her lips were parted as she breathed and there was a rosy flush on her freckled cheeks. He felt another stir of desire and contemplated moving his fingertip down over one silken thigh as he thought back to the previous night and most of the subsequent day that he’d spent in her bed. They had taken short breaks for food and for a shared and very erotic shower, and at one point they’d even scrambled into their clothes and gone out tramping through the snowy countryside. But for the most part they had been shut in her bedroom, making love so often that he should have been exhausted, when all he felt was a delicious kind of high.

      Because Olivia Miller had proved an exciting lover—more exciting than she should have been, given her lack of experience. Her light, strong body had bent beneath his with the suppleness of a young sapling as he’d driven into her over and over again. She had embraced sex with a passion and athleticism that had taken his sometimes jaded breath away. And if at one point she had made the mistake of going all tender on him, it was a mistake she would not be repeating, for he had warned her off starting to care for him—and royal protocol would ensure that the message was slammed home to her. For this was the last time they would lie together like this...

      He felt a stir of something else and acknowledged the uncomfortable stab of his conscience, knowing he had manipulated her in a particularly ruthless fashion. He had taken her virginity because it seemed wrong that a relatively young woman should be living such a celibate existence. And because he had wanted her very badly. But there had been another reason why he had made love to her...knowing that a woman rarely refused a man something if he gave her enough pleasure. And it had worked, hadn’t it? She would now be accompanying him to his homeland, as he had intended she would all along.

      He felt another stab of conscience. His own doubts hadn’t stayed around for long, had they? His guilt about taking her virginity and the symbolic betrayal of his wife hadn’t lasted beyond that first, sweet thrust.

      He felt the returning throb of an erection and wondered if there was time for another swift coupling prior to their flight before deciding against it. She was going to need to wash and brush up before the trip to his homeland, and he was going to have to deal with his advisors and bodyguards who would doubtless be angry about this solo trip, though they would never dare show it. And although they would invariably guess that he had been doing more than taking tea with the fiery-headed horse expert, there was no need to flaunt his affairs openly in front of such a notoriously conservative group of men. And besides, this would be the end of it. His conscience would trouble him no longer, for there would be no sexual relationship once they were in Jazratan. His mouth hardened. He never brought his lovers to his homeland for reasons that were practical and reasons that were painful.

      The clatter of the helicopter blades interrupted his introspection and, gently, he shook Livvy awake. Her lashes fluttered open and he could see the momentary confusion that clouded her amber eyes as she looked around and realised she was naked in bed with him.

      Much less shy than after their first encounter, she sat up, the duvet tumbling to her waist and highlighting the pert thrust of her breasts, and Saladin cursed the powerful wave of desire that shot through him.

      ‘What’s that noise?’

      ‘My helicopter.’

      She blinked at him. ‘It’s here?’

      ‘It’s about to land.’

      ‘It’s dark outside,’ she said sleepily.

      ‘That’s because we’ve been in bed most of the day and it’s late. You’ll need to get showered, changed and packed,’ he added. ‘Because we have to leave—and as quickly as possible.’

      Livvy felt disorientated as she brushed her untidy hair away from her face and wondered why Saladin was suddenly being so cool towards her. Because she’d obeyed his curt instructions to the letter, hadn’t she? She certainly hadn’t been in any way tender towards him after he’d warned her off. She’d responded to his lovemaking with nothing