Bound to Her Desert Captor

by Michelle Conder

  Telling herself to stop being a coward, she raised her arms and twined her hands together above her head, undulating her hips slowly. The crowd clapped and the music throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Laughingly, she tried to emulate the movements of the other dancers. And then she just let go, closing her eyes and giving herself up to the moment.

  Unbidden, Jag’s tender kiss against the stable wall invaded her head. Her breasts rose and fell at the memory of his hard body pressed to hers, his mouth devouring her, tasting her, arousing her. A sweet lethargy spread through her limbs and she made the mistake of opening her eyes and staring directly into his.

  It was like being torched by an open flame. The heat and hunger in his gaze was so intimate it took her breath away. His whole body transmitted unmistakable masculine desire and it seared her to her core.

  The scarf floated teasingly in the air between them as she mimicked the earlier movements of the women, the delicate fabric wafting in front of him. With lightning-quick reflexes he grabbed hold of the end, bringing her to a standstill.

  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.

  ‘Cold?’ he asked, his hands sweeping her hair aside and lowering his head to the tender skin where her neck and shoulder joined.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head, resting it back against his chest. He smoothed the gown over her narrow shoulders and held his breath as it too slithered to the floor.

  ‘Then turn around, ya amar. Let me see you.’

  Slowly she did as he instructed, her little chin lifted ever so slightly as she stood before him in only a tiny pair of black panties and delicate sandals.

  He had been with many women in his life. Women he had admired and even liked, but he had never been with a woman who created in him this deep, gnawing hunger to possess, to brand, to claim as his own for ever and beyond.

  Shaking off the sensation that he was in much deeper than he’d ever been before, Jag drew her closer. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, his eyes memorising every sensual detail of her supple body; her straight shoulders and slender torso, the rise of her round breasts, high and firm, the narrowness of her waist, and the subtle flare of her hips and long legs. Hips designed to cradle a man’s body, legs designed to wrap around him and hold him tight. ‘Perfect.’

  Unable to hold himself back, he gathered her close, groaning as the tips of her breasts nestled in the hair on his chest. She arched into him, her hands grasping his shoulders to pull him even closer. ‘Kiss me, please.’

  He did more than that, he devoured her, taking her mouth in a long, searing kiss that was a promise to how he intended to possess her with his body.

  She made a soft keening sound, her hands kneading and caressing his naked shoulders. Jag dragged his hands down her ri
bcage, sweeping along her spine, before bringing his hands to her breasts. He cupped them gently, plucking at her tight nipples between his fingers.

  She moaned deeply, arching against him, her body rising to his, climbing his until she was fully in his arms with her legs wrapped around his waist, her breasts inches from his mouth.

  He gave a husky laugh. ‘Habiba, how very nice to meet you.’ He leaned forward and cut off her answering chuckle by taking her nipple into his mouth. She clung to him, crying out in an agony of pleasure. He wanted to give her that pleasure. He wanted to give her everything.

  He suckled her gently, flicking her nipple. Her thighs tightened around him as her arousal heightened and he rewarded her responsiveness with firmer and firmer pulls of his mouth. First on one breast then the other.

  ‘Jaeger! Jag!’ She writhed against him and he sensed she was close to climaxing. The knowledge sent his own arousal into the stratosphere.

  ‘Regan, I—’ He cursed as he laid her on his bed, his movements clumsy with his own imminent loss of control.

  Shaking, he tried to steady himself, but she reached up to frame his face as he came down over the top of her, pulling his mouth back to hers.

  ‘Wait,’ he growled as her fingers trailed down over his muscled back and slipped beneath the waistband of his trousers. She was driving him to the edge of control and he needed to pull back for a moment, centre himself. But she didn’t listen, her mouth opening wider under his, her tongue gliding into his mouth to mate with his, her clever fingers shattering his ability to keep a part of himself back.

  ‘I don’t want to wait,’ she murmured against his neck. ‘I need you. I need you inside me.’

  ‘If you don’t wait,’ he growled, ‘this is going to be over before it’s begun.’

  ‘I don’t care. I need—’

  He grabbed her hands and shackled them above her head with one hand. With the other he ruthlessly divested himself of his clothing. ‘I know what you need.’

  He came down over the top of her, pressing her into the mattress. She parted her thighs and her hips rose to meet his.

  ‘Dammit, Regan, I need to see if you’re...’ He’d been going to say ready for me, but he had already discovered the answer. ‘Regan.’ He positioned himself over her, his legs nudging her thighs wider.

  ‘Yes. Please, Jag, do it.’

  Her fingers dug into his hips and he surged into her, completely sheathing himself inside her.

  She gasped and he instantly stilled. He smoothed her hair back from her forehead, putting his weight on his elbows. ‘Okay?’

  Breathing heavily through her mouth, she nodded. ‘You’re just so... Oh, that feels fantastic.’

  He flexed again and felt her body go liquid around him. Then he stilled.

  ‘Protection.’ How in the world had he forgotten that?

  She shook her head. ‘We don’t need it. I’m on the Pill and I’ve only been with one other man. Years ago.’

  One other man?

  ‘And I trust you.’

  It was those last words that made his heart leap inside his chest and tipped him over the edge. Or perhaps it was the way her inner muscles rippled around him, drawing him further inside. Either way he no longer cared. All he cared about, all he could think about was taking them both higher, driving them deeper until time and space became irrelevant.

  ‘Jag!’ Her body gripped him tighter, growing taut as she moved more frantically beneath him.

  ‘That’s it, habiba, ya amar, like that... Yes, just...’

  He felt the instant her body reached its peak, revelling in the way she screamed his name as she came apart in his arms. And then he couldn’t think at all because her muscles were clenching around him like a silken fist. His body surged forward, driving into her with none of his usual finesse, until, with his own cry of release, he lost himself inside her.

  * * *

  Jag woke some time later to find Regan wrapped around him like ivy. One arm slung over his chest, her thigh positioned high over his. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept all night with a woman. Sleep was a luxury he usually caught in snatches. Was that what had woken him so suddenly? The fact that he wasn’t up? Or was it the warm, naked woman at his side who had given him more pleasure than he could ever remember having in bed?

  His flesh stirred, definitely liking that second idea better than the first.

  She must have registered the change in him because she made a small, sleepy noise, her body snuggling deeper against his.

  Jag smiled, shifting a strand of her hair back from her forehead. He loved her hair. The colour, the texture... It felt like silk and fairly vibrated under the sunlight.

  He told himself that he wouldn’t wake her. She deserved to sleep and she would no doubt be a little tender from not having made love in such a long time.

  She had only had one lover before him. He’d had no idea she was that inexperienced but he wasn’t unhappy about it. Had he ever had a woman who had given herself to him so openly? So wholeheartedly? It was as if she’d held nothing back from him and he wasn’t sure he entirely liked how that made him feel. Vulnerable. Open. A little raw, perhaps.

  Slowly he became aware of his heart beating and knew it wasn’t a sensation he registered very often.

  Regan shifted again, her arm moving as if she was searching for something in her sleep.

  Him?

  Heat coiled through him.

  On some elemental level Jag recognised that Regan had unlocked a deep-seated hunger inside him he wasn’t altogether comfortable with. She made him think of things like loss and longing, like desire and need, and...

  ‘The heart knows what the heart wants.’

  Zumar’s statement came to him from out of nowhere.

  The heart?

  This wasn’t about his heart. It was about sex. Very good, very hot sex.

  His hand tightened in her hair as she made another little sleepy sound. It was meant to reassure her that everything was okay but deep inside he wasn’t all that sure that it was true. ‘It’s okay, habiba, you’re only dreaming.’

  ‘Jag?’ Her brown eyes fluttered open, dark and confused in the pre-dawn light. She leaned up on one elbow, her lovely autumn hair sliding across one shoulder, the hint of jasmine and sunshine drifting between them.

  ‘Is it morning?’

  ‘No.’

  They stared at each other. Common sense asserted itself, warning him to back away, to put some distance between them.

  Obviously picking up on his thoughts she frowned. ‘I should go back to my tent. You must want to sleep.’ She swallowed, her eyes darting from his, presumably searching for the gown he had dumped on the floor.

  Jag wanted to tell her that was a really good idea. The best idea. But he couldn’t because it was neither of those things.

  ‘That’s a terrible idea, habiba,’ he said, his voice husky.

  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...