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If James Bond and Cleopatra Jones had a daughter, Adriana Kent would kick her ass.
Everything Adriana knows about being a top-notch, undercover agent she’s learned from her partner, Flint Morgan, in and out of the sheets. That is, until he’s caught between those same bed linens with another woman. Heartbroken, Adriana refuses to forgive him. But when ‘the other woman’ is found dead in Flint’s apartment, she steps up to prove his innocence–he might be a womanizer, but he’s no killer.
As Adriana closes in on a suspect, she’s kidnapped and sent overseas to a sadistic prince who collects women like priceless pieces of art. Now this tough as nails agent finds herself playing the helpless courtesan to a man hell-bent on breaking her spirit. Flint arrives in the nick of time, dressed as a harem girl, fighting off randy guards and surly camels to rescue Adriana so they can fly back to the states to find a way to exonerate him for murder.
Still dripping, she crept into her bedroom. She listened intently for the sound again. It came seconds later when something banged against the other side of her bedroom wall.
Tiptoeing to her nightstand, she picked up her Glock, her heart pounding in her ears.
She turned and made her way to the door. It was cracked a few inches, but the darkened room beyond made it impossible to see anything.
She flipped off the bedroom light, then eased the door open. Maybe she’d catch a glimpse of the intruder. She held her gun cocked and steady, ready to fire.
Like a cat, she pounced into the living room, her eyes darting frantically around the dimly lit area.
From behind, a hand clasped over her mouth, the other came down hard on her hands and knocked the gun to the floor. The towel that had been wrapped around her fell like freshly fallen snow about her feet. A steely arm snaked around her waist and drew her up hard against a solid, obviously male form.
Adriana struggled against his strength with little success. His iron grip had her pinned. Hot, sweet breath exhaled next to her ear, sending a prickle of apprehension down her backbone. Her heart raced painfully in her chest as warm, wet lips connected with her ear lobe. Adriana held her breath, terrified for the first time in her life. Was this guy going to rape her?
“You smell incredible,” a familiar male voice whispered, taking his hand away from her mouth.
“Flint,” she groaned. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I had to prove I hadn’t lost my touch. Besides, you didn’t give me a chance to thank you for the little diversion earlier this evening.” His teeth nibbled on the side of her neck.
“You came here and scared me half to death, just to say thank you?” Adriana couldn’t believe it. She might have shot him. Was he loco? Hell, she should shoot him now for being so cocky. How dare he sneak in to try and prove a point?
His hand slid up and connected with a breast, bringing her attention back to her predicament.
“You do have perfect breasts, baby.” Flint’s voice was husky as he caressed her with his palms.
Adriana couldn’t remember being so pissed, but she’d play along with his little seductive ploy, for a few minutes.
“So you do think they’re perfect?” Adriana tried to concentrate on the act, and not the incredible sensations his hands evoked in the pit of her stomach and nipples. Then the sensation moved lower.
“Is there anything else you like?” she asked, trying hard to ignore the pleasure of his touch, but it was getting harder by the second. It was Flint, after all, and she knew damned well what he could do to her body.
“I love your neck.” His tongue ran up her throat, sending little jolts of electricity firing through her. “I love your stomach,” he continued as his palms moved down to caress the flat surface, gently brushing her skin until Adriana thought she’d lose control. I love—” he said, moving his hand lower, “every inch of you.”
Adriana’s body came alive. She wanted him more than she ever had. Then, just as quickly, images of Lindsey in his bed hit her full force, and it was as though ice water flooded her veins.
Slowly, she turned and smiled temptingly at him. Without a second thought, she brought her knee up to his groin, buckling him over.
She’d never forget the look of shock and pain on his face as he went down. It was priceless, a vindication of what he’d done to her—right where it hurt the most.
“Oops. Sorry.” Adriana picked up her towel and wrapped it around her again. “My knee slipped.”
She watched him struggle to get up, not feeling an ounce of guilt for what she’d done.
“Jesus, Dray,” he hissed, through quick, uneven breaths. “Don’t you know you could damage a man forever doing that?”
Adriana opened her eyes wide with mock surprise. “Really? I didn’t know that.” She tried to keep a straight face, but failed. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I feel a need to do it.”
Flint scowled at her as he eased himself upright, then turned and limped toward the door.
“Flint.” Adriana held out her hand. “I’ll take that key.”
With eyes now watering, he reached into his pocket, flinched, then pulled out a key ring and tossed it at her.
“Good night, Dray.” He opened the door and hobbled out, closing it quietly behind him.
“Yeah, good night to you, too.”
Adriana stared at the door for what seemed like an eternity. She almost regretted her decision to send him away. They could have spent the whole night making love. But at least now she knew he wouldn’t feel up to being amorous with anyone else either.
A satisfied grin crossed her face as she returned to her bath—now cold, which she hoped would ice the desire he’d stirred inside her.