A Surprise for the Sheikh

By: Sarah M. Anderson


 This was really happening.

 Ben’s hot body pressed Violet against the back of the elevator. Something hard and long bumped against her hip, and she giggled. Oh, yeah—this was so happening.

 She was really doing this.

 “Kiss me,” Ben said in that sinfully delicious accent of his as he flexed his hips against hers. She didn’t know where he was from, but his accent made her think of the burning heat of summer sun—because boy, did it warm her up.

 Violet ran her hands through his thick black hair and lifted his face away from where he’d been sucking on her neck.

 He touched his forehead to hers. “Kiss me, my mysterious, my beautiful V.” Then—incredibly—he hesitated just long enough to make it clear he was waiting for her decision.

 Power surged through her. This was exactly why she was riding in an elevator in the Holloway Inn up to a man’s room—a man who did not know she was Violet McCallum, who did not know she was Mac McCallum’s baby sister.

 Her entire life, she had been Violet. Violet, who had to be protected from the big bad world. Violet, the lost little girl whose parents died and left her all alone. Violet, who still lived at home and still had her big brother watching over her every move to make sure she didn’t get hurt again.

 Well, to hell with that. Tonight, she was V. She was mysterious, she was beautiful, and this man—this sinfully handsome man with an accent like liquid sunshine—wanted her to kiss him.

 She was not Violet. Not tonight.

 So she kissed him, long and hard, their tongues tangling in her mouth, then in his. She did more than kiss him—she raked her fingers through his hair and held him against her. She made it clear—this was what she wanted. He was what she wanted.

 She hadn’t come to this hotel bar a town away from Royal, Texas, with the intent of going to bed with a stranger. She hadn’t planned on a one-night stand. She’d wanted to get dressed up, to feel pretty—maybe to flirt. She’d wanted to be someone else, just for the night.

 But she hadn’t counted on Ben. “You have beautiful eyes,” he said in his sunshine voice, his hands sliding down her backside and cupping her bottom. “Among other things, my mysterious V.” Then he lifted, and it was only natural that her legs went around his waist and that the long, hard bulge in his pants went from bumping against her thigh to pressing against the spot at her very center.

 Violet’s back arched as heat radiated throughout her body. Ben held tight to her, pinning her back against the elevator wall as he pressed his mouth to the cleavage that this little black dress left exposed. One of the hands that was cupping her bottom slid forward, snagging on the hem of her dress as he stroked between her legs. The heat from his hand only added to the raging inferno taking place under her skin.

 “If you leave this elevator, you will be mine, you understand? I will lay you out on the bed and make you cry out. This is your last chance to take the elevator down.”

 A shiver of delight raced through her. Respectable Violet would never let a man talk to her like this. But V? “Is that a promise?”

 “It is,” he said in such a serious tone that she gasped. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”

 That was, hands down, the sweetest thing anyone had ever whispered to her. Her entire life had been one long exercise in telling people what she wanted only to have to listen to the litany of excuses why she couldn’t do what she wanted or couldn’t have what she wanted. It was too risky, too dangerous. She didn’t understand the consequences, she didn’t this, she didn’t that—every excuse her brother could throw at her, he did.

 If Mac knew she was in this elevator with a man whose pleasure was her pleasure—well, there might be guns involved. This was risky and dangerous and all that stuff that Mac had spent the past twelve years trying to shield her from.

 She was tired of being protected. She wanted something more than safety.

 She wanted Ben.

 “Why are we still in this elevator?” she asked in as innocent a tone as she could muster, given how Ben’s body was pressing against hers.

 “You are quite certain?”

 “Quite. But don’t stop talking.” The words hadn’t even gotten out of her mouth before Ben hauled her away from the wall of the elevator and out into the hall.

 “Are you this adventurous in everything?”

 He was carrying her as if she weighed nothing at all. She was as light as a feather, a leaf on the wind, in Ben’s arms. She was flying and she didn’t ever want to come down.

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