What is Tarik saying?

Jass struggled to come out of her haze and listen, but the blood boiled in her ears. With her pulse screaming through her veins as though she were pulling down five Gs, her body throbbed with passion. And all because of the masculine body currently lying suggestively between her legs.

Geez. She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to snap herself out of it. They were supposedly working a sting. She was Celile. But he was not the real Zohdi.

Work. Work. Work. This was an important assignment and not the most intimate experience she’d ever had. Worse even than the idea of taking a risk with her career, there’d been a camera trained on them this whole time.

She’d lost her mind. But, oh man, what a terrific way to go insane. The sexual chemistry between the two of them left her soaring. Tarik’s mere touch jolted her with an intense excitement, sparking a conflagration that had sent her down in flames. His naked and aroused body surprised her, but it shouldn’t have. He was so much more than she imagined. The most potent male she’d ever seen.

Like spontaneous combustion, she’d found herself wet and set to explode.

But they were only acting at their mission. Right?

Remember the mission.

"Hold on." Tarik left her long enough to drag the covers up and over their heads, covering them completely from view.

How could he remain unaffected? Well, not totally unaffected, she’d noticed. He was hot and pulsing…and huge. He’d been ready just like she was.

But his mind had stayed in the game. A trait she’d better learn how to mimic.

"Laugh," he demanded in a raspy whisper. "Or giggle. Anything that makes it seem as though we’re doing what it looks like in this bed."

His words actually made some sense through her clearing fog. At last. She wiggled out from underneath his body and rolled over to face him—while both of them remained hidden under the covers.

Watching him closely, she opened her mouth and let out one of the loudest moans imaginable. "Ah. Ah. Ah." She forced the volume higher. "Oh, Zohdi. Oh. Oh."

Finally, she wound herself up and screamed incoherently. A thing she had never done during the throes of passion in her entire lifetime.

Tarik actually smiled as he murmured low, "Nice work, agent. I’d like a repeat performance someday. But not for the cameras."

That did it. He had to move away. Now.

"Get out of bed and turn off the lights, Zohdi." She gritted her teeth. "And then bring me a robe."

Why hadn’t the man thought to turn out the lights in the first place?

In a hushed tone, Tarik answered. "Okay, but I’m betting turning off the lights won’t help. The camera is probably NVC, night vision capable. Most surveillance equipment is set up that way. I’ll gladly get the robes." He scowled and rolled out from under the blankets, leaving her covered and furious.

Seconds later he pulled down the covers and immediately threw one of the terry bath robes over her. "Get up, Celile," he announced in a loud voice. "You need a shower and I have work to do on the laptop."

"What did you say?" It was easy to fake a little indignation. She felt every bit of Celile’s part.

Tarik turned his back. "Get up."

"Well, isn’t that romantic? You bastard." She shoved her arms into the robe and stood. "I’m going. But if you think for one minute that you’re in for a repeat performance tonight, you are out of your mind. You and your damned laptop can sleep out on the terrace."

Grasping the robe around her like a shield, Jass marched into the bathroom and slammed the door. Once alone and out of camera range, she leaned both hands heavily on the countertop. Hanging her head and breathing in and out through her mouth, she tried to calm her shaky nerves.

Realization began to sink in. He had actually picked a fight in order to save them from having to sleep together tonight. The whole scene back there suddenly became clear. Everything he’d done in the bedroom—stripping himself and not her, carrying her to the bed and covering them from view—all of it was done for her benefit.

To save her from embarrassment.