‘When will you finally accept that I’m not your enemy, Miranda?’

He lingered on her name, turning the vowels into music that produced a galaxy of goosebumps across her skin and a coil of desire low in her body.

She felt undermined. Trapped in uncharted territory.

‘When you set me free. When you stop acting like my own private gaoler.’

Something flickered in those dark eyes. An emotion she couldn’t read. His mouth twisted and the sharp planes of his face set like a rigid mask.

He looked daunting, imperious and frighteningly sexy.

‘You know I can’t set you free. It’s impossible.’

He paused, chest swelling on a deep breath. When her glare didn’t soften he shook his head.

‘If you insist on treating me as the enemy…’ His voice grated across her skin, drawing her nipples tight. As if that softly menacing tone were instead an invitation to sensual pleasure beyond her imaginings. ‘Maybe I should live up to your expectations.’

His hands closed around her upper arms. Her breasts pressed against his hard torso, her legs were between his, the heat of his groin searing her belly.

Lightning arced through her body, soldering her boots to the ground and turning her mouth arid.

Miranda swallowed and watched Zamir’s eyes follow the jerky movement, then lift to her mouth when she slicked her lips.

His stare was needle-sharp. It should hurt her, or at the very least repulse her.

Instead it made her want.

She swayed, her palms flattening on his broad chest. To push him away, obviously.

But then she felt the heavy thump of his heart. Steady and even but quick, almost as quick as hers. Instead of pushing, her fingers curled into his shirt, her short nails raking.

She felt him jump, an infinitesimal twitch of muscles, enough to betray his response to her touch.

That was when it hit her that this was truly dangerous. Not because Zamir had the physical strength to force her into something she didn’t want. Despite the disparity in their sizes and the raw masculinity that saturated the laden air between them, Miranda couldn’t believe he'd use force.

The real danger was because she did want.

So much that it had grown into need. A need for more from this man. A need for something to quell the jittery sensation in her chest and stop the dragging heat inside as if her vital organs were melting on a tide of…

Lust.