Free Awakened by Her Desert Captor by Abby Green

and something much earthier, as Sylvie seemed to be absorbed by the food—spearing large morsels and evidently taking extreme pleasure out of the discovery of the various tastes. It was incredibly sensual to watch.
    She seemed to be completely oblivious to Arkim and he sat back slightly, the better to observe her. He knew she wasn’t oblivious to him, though—it was there in the tension of her body, and in the pulse beating under the delicate pale skin of her throat.
    He’d noticed for the first time this evening that his impression of her being tall actually wasn’t correct. He might have registered it before if she hadn’t distracted him so easily, but she’d always seemed a lot taller. Maybe it was because she consistently stood up to him in a way no one else did.
    That revelation wasn’t welcome. It made him think of the fact that he’d overheard her trying to apologise to a member of his staff earlier. He’d have assumed it was for show, but she had been almost out of his earshot, so patently not doing it for his benefit.
    Sylvie was actually only just above average height, and her whole frame was on the petite side. He didn’t like the way this fact made his conscience smart a little. It made him see a vulnerability he’d blocked out before, and reminded him of the way her stepmother had slapped her in the church...
    She leaned forward at that moment, to get some bread, and her full breasts swayed with the movement. Arkim’s whole body seemed to sizzle, and he was reminded of exactly who he was dealing with here—a mistress of selfishness and manipulation.
    â€˜You like the food?’ he asked now, in some kind of effort to wrench his mind off Sylvie’s physical temptations, angry with himself.
    She glanced at him—a flash of blue and green. She nodded and swallowed what she was eating. Her voice was low, husky, when she said, ‘It’s delicious. I’ve never tasted flavours like this before.’
    â€˜The lamb is particularly good.’
    He speared a morsel of succulent meat with his fork and held it across the table. When she reached for it with her hand he pulled it back and looked at her. She scowled.
    â€˜Coward,’ Arkim said softly.
    Something in him exulted when he saw the fire flash in her eyes as she took the bait and leant across the table to take the piece of meat off his fork and into her mouth.
    Her loose tops swayed, giving Arkim an unrestricted view of her lace-clad breasts. Full and perfectly shaped. She moved back before he could make a complete fool of himself by grabbing her and hauling her across the table.
    Her cheeks were flaming. And he didn’t think it was from the spices in the lamb. Their mutual chemistry was obvious. So why would she fight it like this?
    He leant back on one arm again. She took a sip of champagne and he watched the long, graceful column of her throat work, jealous of even that small movement. She might have passed for eighteen, with her face free of make-up.
    Something niggled at him—where was the femme fatale ? So far he had to admit that the Sylvie he had here was nothing like the woman who had provoked him beyond measure each time he’d seen her before. Not least when she’d appeared in the church, dressed from head to toe in motorcycle gear. The soft black leather jacket and trousers had moulded to her body in a way that had been indecent—and even more so in a church.
    He’d expected her to be a lot more sophisticated, knowing... Giving in to her situation and manipulating him as much as she could. That was how the women he knew operated—ultimately they would follow the path of least resistance and take as much as they could.
    That was what had attracted him to Sophie Lewis and made him believe he could marry her—her complete lack of guile or artifice. A rare thing in this world.
    And that was as far as the attraction had gone.
    Arkim ignored the voice.