Kidnapped For His Royal Heir (Passion in Paradise)

Peter joined her minutes later. But even as she kept a fairly easy conversation flowing, she was aware of Zak’s growing scowl from the end of the long table. Aware that the presence of the other man next to her irritated the enigmatic Prince.

Too bad.

Perhaps it might do his ego some good to know that she wasn’t one of the many females falling over themselves to hang onto his every word! With that wicked thought in mind, she laughed a little more enthusiastically at Peter’s jokes, met his gaze a little longer and didn’t object when he offered to walk her back to her tent, via the long way by the lake.

And when he bade her a perfectly gentlemanly goodnight, she retreated inside with a smile, ignoring the little dissatisfied hollow in her stomach as she gathered her toiletries and headed back out to take a shower.

While she was all for the luxury of a proper bathroom and conveniences, Violet couldn’t fault the special and simple delight of showering under the Tanzanian sky after sunset. The simple pump system delivered fresh water via a shower head and she sighed with pleasure as the cool water washed away the day’s grime.

Of course all that delight turned to chagrin when she realised she’d forgotten her towel. With no choice but to stuff her underwear into her wash bag and don her shorts and T-shirt, she re-dressed as quickly as her damp skin would allow and stepped out.

Directly into the path of Zak Montegova, leaning against a slim acacia tree, clad in only a towel.

He straightened at the sight of her, sauntering over with a mouth-drying swagger that made her every nerve ending jump to attention. Dear God, how was it fair for one man to be this attractive?

‘For a minute there I wondered whether I’d need to take a dip in the lake, in case you decided to use up all the water,’ he said.

She made a vague gesture towards the half-full pump to the side of the shower stall. ‘As you can see, I didn’t. There’s more than enough for you.’

He kept his gaze trained on her, not deigning to glance at the pump. And with each second she grew even more aware of her dripping hair, of the T-shirt sticking to her stomach and breasts, outlining her stiffening nipples. Of the heat gathering between her thighs when his gaze dropped down her body.

Had his breathing altered? Did that naked chest expand as he sucked in a long breath?

Get yourself together!

She started to turn away, keen to heed her screeching senses.

‘A word of advice, Violet. Whatever it is you’re up to with Awadhi, be sure it’s a choice you won’t eventually regret.’

Was he cautioning her as her boss? Or was this...personal? ‘You have a say in the work that I do. I don’t believe you have a say in how I spend my free time.’

‘Are you attracted to him?’ he pressed, a definite bite to his voice. ‘Can’t get enough of all that wholesome, salt-of-the-earth, tie-dyed goodness? Is that it?’ he mocked.

‘Why? Are you jealous?’ she taunted, exhaustion, a sense of injustice from being the butt of his cynicism and, yes, that constant, overwhelming need to give into the sizzling temptation he evoked just by breathing finally cracking her composure.

His nostrils flared. ‘That would imply he has something that I do not.’

That stung deep, made her even more rash. ‘If you’re n

ot interested then why are we having this conversation?’

He stepped closer, bringing his tower of virile masculinity and solid potency far too close. Her mouth dried and her fist clenched with the need to touch. To explore. To taste.

‘You misunderstand me. The issue isn’t what I want. It’s what he doesn’t have. Which is you. Because I won’t allow it.’

Shocked, hollow laughter ripped from her throat, thankfully eroding a layer of need. ‘Won’t allow? You have a nerve! Who do you think you are, telling me what you will or won’t—?’

The rest of her inflamed accusation evaporated as he speared his fingers into her wet hair and drew her abruptly against his body. Hot, demanding lips slanted over hers, his arm banding her waist. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing, took three long strides and before she could take a breath she was plastered against the side of the shower stall, out of view of passers-by.

Zak held her immobile, angling her head as his tongue delved between her lips to begin a torrid little dance that instantly beaded her nipples, driving sharp, sweet pain between her thighs.

Violet had far too often relived their encounter six years ago, wondered if her recollections had been exaggerated because of the occasion, wondered if her childish crush on him was what had heightened her emotions.

This re-introduction was so much more than she remembered, her senses stunned anew as he expertly nipped her lower lip with his teeth and fresh, explosive sensation spiralled through her.

Perhaps she was older, hungry enough to appreciate him better, to savour this raw, intoxicating contact that had her questioning her sanity in allowing it one minute, then straining onto tiptoe, her arms trailing delightedly up those muscled biceps she’d admired to lock around his neck.

Whatever.