Bound to Her Desert Captor

Rolling her beneath him, he clasped her hands above her head. ‘Especially when I have many more delicious plans for you.’

She gasped as their lower bodies connected, the uncertainty in her eyes replaced with a burning hunger that matched his own. She softened beneath him, her lips raised to his. He didn’t hold back, sealing his lips over hers and swallowing her groan of pleasure with a deeper one of his own.

Nudging her thighs apart with his knees, he entered her in one smooth, deep thrust.

‘Oh!’

Her eyes went wide, her lips parting.

‘Oh is right.’ He kissed her temple, her eyes and along the side of her jaw. She whimpered beneath him, her lips seeking his ‘You’re so beautiful, Regan. The sexiest woman I have ever met.’

‘Jag.’ His name was a sigh against his neck, her arms enfolding him, holding him to her as her hips moved under him.

Without warning he deftly

rolled them both until he was on his back and she was held over him.

Her glorious hair fell around them. He moved it back, finding and cupping her breasts. She moaned, her head falling back on her neck. Using only his stomach muscles, he levered upwards and drew one of her nipples into his mouth. Her arms clasped around his back.

‘Oh, I like this position.’

Revelling in her enjoyment of their bodies, he surged upwards, taking her hips in his hands and moving them both closer and closer to a place he knew he’d never been with any other woman.

* * *

Regan depressed the shutter button on her camera and hoped that she’d captured the moment the two hawks flew side by side in a perfect mirror of each other.

Hearing footsteps behind her, she glanced over her shoulder as Jag crested the small rise above the oasis.

A week ago if someone had told her that she could be so uninhibited with a man in bed, so relaxed, she would have laughed in their face. But there was something about this man that made her feel free and able to be herself. Maybe it was his inherent honesty and desire to do the right thing. It spoke to her and made her want to reciprocate in kind.

All morning she had refused to let herself overthink things as she was wont to do. What was the point? They had shared an incredible night of amazing sex and that was that. Yes, he had asked her to spend the day with him at his oasis, but again she wouldn’t overthink it. The fact was, the man worked like a Trojan, he was entitled to a day off and this was his place to come and unwind. And if he wanted to spend time with her...well, that was nice, but he’d made his position about relationships and love clear from the start and, even though she could guess that those beliefs were driven by parents who hadn’t loved each other or their kids enough, it didn’t change anything.

It would be beyond arrogant for her to imagine that she could be the one to change him.

And what would that even mean anyway? That she would upend her life and move to Santara and really become his queen? She nearly snorted at the thought. Yes, those things happened to some people, but it was a one-in-a-billion chance, and it took both parties to want it. At the end of the day Jag didn’t think love was important and she thought it was vital. And of course, there was still the issue of their siblings to sort out...

‘Can I see?’

He gestured to her camera and she handed it to him. ‘Go ahead.’

A lock of hair fell forward over his brow and she let out a sigh at the sudden urge she felt to push it back.

He paused on the photo she had taken of him with Arrow on his arm, his eyes staring at her.

‘I wanted to know what you were thinking when I took that,’ she said, her voice husky.

He looked up, his eyes intense, and for once she hoped he couldn’t read what was on her mind. It would be beyond embarrassing if he realised she had fallen hopelessly in love with him.

‘I don’t remember.’ He adjusted her shemagh and handed her camera back. ‘You’re very good.’

‘You don’t need to say that. You’ve already got me into bed.’

He gave a short burst of laughter at her deadpan comment, hauling her against him for a quick kiss. ‘I never have any idea what you’re going to say next. But I meant it.’

Regan shook her head. She knew her limitations as a photographer and it didn’t bother her. ‘Which goes to show that the almighty King of Santara doesn’t know everything after all,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m no Robert Doisneau.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Robert Dois—who? Is this someone I should be worried about?’