Bound to Her Desert Captor

She couldn’t do anything but stare at him, and then, as if in slow motion, he started to reel her in.

Regan was completely undone to see the delicate skein of silk wrapping around his big, tanned hand, the sight somehow enhancing his potent masculinity when it might have diminished it in a lesser man. But there was nothing lesser about Jaeger al-Hadrid and Regan knew that once she reached him there would be no turning back.

‘Regan.’

His eyes were as hot as the sun, his rough tone pure sex.

Regan’s breath hitched in her throat. There was only one thing she could say to that look.

‘Yes.’

Understanding completely that the word hadn’t been a question, he unfolded lithely to his feet. His height dwarfed her, the thawb making him seem even more powerful than usual. As soon as he stood the music stopped, but really Regan only vaguely registered the change.

He took her hand and not a single sound was uttered as he led her from the tent.

Once they were outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief against her heated cheeks but it did nothing to relieve the hot, pulsing desire that thrummed through her and turned her insides liquid with need.

When they reached his black SUV he dismissed his driver with a single nod.

Regan hesitated beside the open passenger door, forcing her eyes to meet his. ‘I need to know one thing,’ she said, her voice breathless with longing. ‘Are you going to stop again and pull back from me?’ Because if he did she didn’t think she could bear it.

His large hand rose to cup her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone, his eyes as dark as the night sky above them. ‘I’ve tried that. It doesn’t work.’

A quiver went through her at his rough, gravelly tone. She gave him a tremulous smile and his fingers tightened against her scalp. ‘Jump in.’

The big car flew across the desert road, eating up the distance between the marquee and his private tent in no time. Neither of them spoke, the air in the car so thick it made talking impossible. It made thinking impossible too and then he was beside her door, opening it, his warm hand pressing to the small of her back as he guided her towards the large tent she knew to be his. He raised the flap and she moved inside, suddenly nervous, the sound of it dropping back into place behind them like the crack of a whip in the stillness.

His hands framed her face and for a heartbeat he just looked at her. Then he lowered his head and took her mouth in a kiss of devastating expertise.

Regan could feel her heart racing, her body turning to liquid.

The kiss, slow and gentle at first, quickly turned urgent. He tasted of wine and coffee, and a deep male hunger that fed her own.

The only thing she managed to whisper was his name but that must have been enough because suddenly she was being lifted and he was carrying her towards the rear of the tent. He placed her on the edge of the enormous mattress, taking a moment to reef his robe off over his head, leaving him in low riding cotton pants that left little to her imagination.

Her lips went dry as he stood before her, gloriously male, from the thick muscular arms and shoulders down to his lean hips and long legs.

‘I won’t stop this time, habiba, not unless you want me to.’

Regan’s heart hammered inside her chest. Maybe she should stop, maybe she should say no, but she couldn’t. Spending time with him these past few days, watching him command a room, seeing his quick mind in action, and then today, the way he handled Bariq and Arrow, seeing his gentleness with those less physically capable than himself, was... He was everything a woman could ever hope to find in a man and she loved him. Completely and utterly; as scary as that felt. ‘I don’t want to stop. I want this. I want you.’

She knew her words held a deeper meaning than he would attribute to them, and suddenly she was aware that this might not be the smartest decision she had ever made.

He lifted his hand to her, beckoning, and she no longer cared about being smart.

‘Then come to me, Regan. Let me show you what you do to me.’

CHAPTER TEN

JAG COULDN’T CONTROL the shudder that went through him as Regan gracefully rose from the bed and came towards him. He wasn’t sure how he had restrained himself thus far but he forced the aching need riding him hard to subside. He didn’t want to impose himself on her or scare her with the strength of his desire. He wanted her to come to him as his equal. As a woman who wanted him regardless of how they had met, or why they were together. He needed her stripped bare because it was exactly how she made him feel.

She stopped a pace away from him, her eyes luminous in the soft light, the silky floor-length veil she still wore framing her beautiful face.

He lifted his hands and searched out the pins that held the veil in place until the fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her glorious hair unadorned.

‘Turn around,’ he instructed, his voice hoarse.

Silently she complied and he lowered the zipper in the back of her thawb. She wasn’t wearing a bra and his blood surged at the sight of her pale, slender back. His fingers traced a line down her delicate vertebrae and back up, rejoicing in the tremor that went through her.