Sleeping with the Sheikh. Brenda Jackson

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      Andi dropped the box at her feet and turned, leaning against the saddle set atop the stand. “I personally don’t think Caleb is an appropriate suitor, because he’s married and has two kids.”

      “He has a wife?”

      “Yes, he has a wife, and she’ll be coming with us. Are you satisfied now?”

      Sam was still reluctant to trust the man. “I’m admittedly concerned about his motives regardless of his marital status.”

      Andrea rolled her eyes to the ceiling, then turned her back and began oiling the saddle. “Look, Sam, Caleb is a nice guy. He’s really done me a favor by letting me train his horse, and that’s the only thing he’s asked of me.”

      “To this point.”

      She faced him, twisting the rag in her fist. “I don’t know why you keep thinking he has other things in mind. You don’t even know him.”

      He knew his type, and he knew how tempting Andrea could be. She was tempting him greatly now with the fire in her eyes and the clothes she wore, a sleeveless rag of a shirt cut short at her midriff, giving him a glimpse of her navel, where her jeans rode low at her shapely hips. The cowboy might be wed but he was still a man. And Sam had no right to judge anyone, considering what he had done with Andrea last night, knowing he was bound to another. Considering that he had not yet had his fill of her, as if he ever would.

      “I will not mention it again,” he conceded, though he knew he would think about it often in the days to come, as well as when he returned to Barak. He would think about her often, wondering if she would find her way to another man’s arms, another man’s bed.

      But until that time she was his, and although it would be inadvisable to pursue a physical relationship with her, he was not strong enough to resist. He had no intention of resisting. If all he could have was a few stolen moments, then so be it.

      Sam could only stare at Andrea as she cleaned the saddle, bending down now and then to retrieve supplies for the task. His body raged with need when the denim pulled tight over her hips, revealing the shape of her buttocks. Her hair was secured and bound high on her head in a band, leaving the back of her slender neck fair game. Sam imagined kissing her there. Kissing her everywhere.

      “Do you need my assistance?” he asked.

      She sent him a coy look over her shoulder. “I’ve cleaned so many saddles I could probably do it blindfolded.”

      “I assume you could do many things blindfolded.”

      Andi froze with her hand midswipe when she felt the heat of Sam’s body at her back. A pleasant tremor crept up her spine as he tugged the bandanna from her back pocket then snaked it across her shoulder and over one breast before drawing it up slowly.

      “Should we see if it is true that you are skilled without the benefit of sight?” His voice was a warm, midnight breeze at her ear.

      Before she could respond, he placed the cloth over her eyes and tied it, throwing her into darkness, throwing her body into a carnal tailspin.

      “You’re really going to make me clean the saddle blindfolded?” she asked, her voice little more than a croak, knowing that’s not what he’d meant at all.

      Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her around and nudged her back against the saddle. “I propose that we ignore the saddle for more pleasant endeavors.” He softly kissed her with an added sweep of his tongue across her lower lip. “I want you to concentrate on what I am doing to you.”

      A wave of heat ignited low in her belly then alighted between her thighs. “I’ve been working, Sam. I’m hot and sweaty.” A feeble protest that she hoped he would ignore.

      “So am I,” he said. “But my hands are clean.”

      His hands were wonderful as he skimmed them down her sides, grazing her breasts. “What about Tess?” She worried they might get caught, yet that prospect heightened her desire.

      “Tess has gone to the market,” he whispered as he laved his tongue over her earlobe. “Riley will not return until sundown.”

      When she clutched his arms to secure herself, he pulled her hands away and held them at her sides. “Do not touch me yet,” he said.

      Andi gripped the metal stand to remain upright when her knees threatened to give way. She stood and waited for the longest moment until Sam caught her hands once more and placed a kiss on each palm be fore resting them against his face.

      “Touch me now, Andrea. Remember me.”

      How could she ever forget him? Heavens, she had tried, but without success. She was tired of trying.

      On that thought, she explored his wonderful face with her hands, a face that had invaded her dreams in great detail so many nights before—details deeply engrained in her memory and her heart. She traced a finger over the strong plane of his nose, the bow of his beautiful, full mouth, the solid jaw covered by a spattering of whiskers. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see him now—he would always be with her, branded into her brain.

      Gliding her hands down the column of his throat, she continued on to his chest, pausing when she realized he had removed his shirt, much to her delight. His skin was damp and hot beneath her palms as she set a course across the crisp hair and on to his nipples that peaked into tiny pebbles beneath her fingertips. She traveled down his abdomen, and his muscles clenched when she circled a finger in his navel. Intending to continue her erotic exploration, she slipped her fingertips beneath the band of his jeans, only to have him stop her as he gripped her wrist.

      “Raise your arms,” he said.

      As if a master puppeteer was controlling her, she complied, leaning back against the saddle for support while he tugged her shirt over her head, leaving her completely naked from the waist up. He ran a fingertip across her chest from shoulder to shoulder, much the same as she had done to him. He traced her breasts with sensuous strokes of his fingertips, with agonizing slowness as he decreased the circles when he reached her nipples.

      “You are very beautiful in the daylight,” he said in a deep, slow-burn voice that complemented his avid touch.

      “This isn’t fair,” she said on a broken breath. “You can see me but I can’t see you.”

      “You only need to feel at the moment.”

      No problem, Andi thought as the heat of his mouth engulfed her nipple. She bucked at the pleasurable sensations, giving everything over to feeling. He paid equal attention to both breasts as she molded her hands to his scalp and followed his movements. Then suddenly he raised his head and commanded, “Turn around.”

      She did as she was told, bracing her hands on the saddle to regain her ground. Sam tracked his way down her spine, first with his thumbs then with his lips, leaving a trail of wonderful chills in his wake. Tuned in solely to Sam’s sensual torture, it took Andi a moment to realize he had slipped one hand between her and the saddle. She felt the downward track of her zipper and went weak with anticipation, and weaker still when he lowered the denim to her thighs, taking her panties with it. A wisp of warm air whisked over her now-exposed bottom, but it was nothing compared to the heat Sam generated as he pressed more kisses to her lower back, then kissed her bottom.

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