Claimed For The Desert Prince's Heir / A Shocking Proposal In Sicily. Heidi Rice

colour in her cheeks heightened and her breathing became irregular. Her eyelids flickered, the rapid eye movements suggesting she was having a vivid dream. Could she sense him observing her?

      He had to stifle a smile when she moaned—the sound so husky it seemed to stroke his erection. Was she dreaming about him? He hoped so, because he had dreamed of her.

      She mumbled something in her sleep, shifted and then her small hand, which had been resting on the bedding, reached out to touch his chest. He gritted his teeth as her fingertips slid over his nipple and down his ribs, trailing fire in their wake, and turning his erection to iron, before getting tantalisingly close to the waistband of his pants. Her touch dropped away abruptly as she rolled over—giving him a nice view of her pert bottom.

      He wetted his lips, struggling to quell the brutal pulse of unrequited desire and ignore the stab of something else at the loss of her touch.

      Disappointment? Regret? Longing?

      He remembered the same feeling from the night before when he’d had the recurring nightmare, and he’d clung to her compassion. Which was not like him. He didn’t need tenderness from anyone.

      He’d been alone all his life, had been shot at many times and had survived much worse than a sandstorm. He had made it his mission never to rely on the kindness of others. If his life had taught him one thing—both as a boy in the desert and as a man in the boardrooms of Manhattan—it was that no one could be trusted. That life was brutal and survival was all that counted. That weakness would destroy you.

      Dragging his gaze away from the girl’s perfectly rounded backside, he sat up. Taking a deep breath, he got a lungful of his own scent.

      Damn, he smelt worse than Zarak after a day-long ride. His stomach growled so loudly he was surprised he didn’t wake the girl. He must eat and wash. And tend to Zarak, and the goat and the pack pony. He could decide what to do with the woman later. If she came from the Golden Palace, the seat of his brother Zane’s power in the neighbouring kingdom of Narabia, he supposed he would have to return her at some point.

      He tugged off the blanket covering his lap, then risked another rueful smile at the evidence of his arousal.

      He’d been forced to rescue the woman when he’d spotted her stranded by her Jeep. But maybe having her here didn’t have to be bad. These few days alone were supposed to be an escape from the burden of leadership, a chance to reconnect with the basics of his life before he had become Kholadi Chief well over a decade ago at the age of seventeen.

      His role as Chief had become a great deal more complex and challenging five years ago, when the decision to mine the huge deposits of minerals had given his people vast riches. Riches that had to be managed and invested to give his tribe a more settled, secure existence. It had been his mission to use the wealth to alleviate the hardships of life in the desert and give the tribe’s younger generation choices he had lacked. But dragging the Kholadi into the twenty-first century, while protecting the traditions that had shaped their lives for generations, was a juggling act, which had only become more difficult as his life abroad had dragged him away from the homeland that had defined and sustained him.

      What better way to relax and escape those burdens than to lose himself in a woman, if she were willing? How long was it since he’d had the chance to enjoy such soft fragrant flesh, to explore the pleasures of an angel? Or a witch?

      He rose to his feet, and made his way out of the tent. As he breathed in the dry desert air, and the sun burnished his skin, his usual vitality returned.

      Once he had washed and eaten, he would wake the girl. And see if she was as open as he was to some harmless fun before he returned her to the palace.

      Kasia woke slowly, then shot up so fast she had to breathe through the dizziness.

      Where was the Prince?

      The bed beside her was empty. Bright sunlight shone through the open flaps of the enormous tent.

      She scrambled out of the bedding and raced to the entrance. Had he left her here? Gone for a stroll? How long had she slept?

      Guilt assailed her all over again as she recalled bandaging the cut on his arm, listening to the rambling cries of his nightmare, and paying far too much attention to the impressive ridge in his pants.

      She shielded her eyes against the bright sunlight, blinking furiously as she headed to the corral to search for her rescuer.

      The stallion’s head lifted and it whinnied, before returning its muzzle to the trough full of fresh water. At least he hadn’t ridden away in disgust.

      The sound of the spring water tumbling over the red rocks of the oasis beckoned. After giving the stallion’s nose a pat, she edged through the grove of palm trees towards the blue pool created in the rock crevice.

      She spotted the bandage first, lying unravelled on the ground, the flecks of dried blood making her stomach hurt. Then the black pants, hooked over a desert shrub. Standing at the edge of the trees, her bare feet sinking into the wet sand by the water’s edge, she scanned the pool.

      Heat raged to every one of her erogenous zones as she spotted her patient, standing under the waterfall.

      Her nipples tightened, and her thighs weakened, the moisture pooling in her pants like the water gushing from the rock face.

       Wow!

      Thigh deep in water and with his back to her, Prince Raif was every teenage fantasy she’d ever had made flesh. All strong lines and hard contours, the serpent tattoo coiling over his shoulder, the bruising from the cut on his arm just one of the many scars marring the smooth brown skin. Her gaze dropped to the tight orbs of his backside, which flexed as he scrubbed the water through thick dark hair.

      Goodness, he was even more magnificent naked than he had been in full ceremonial wear at Zane and Cat’s wedding.

      Kasia stood transfixed, knowing she should move, to leave him to bathe in peace. Hadn’t she already caused him enough trouble?

      But instead she watched him, absorbing the beauty of his hard male body. She’d never seen a naked man before. Not one in the full prime of manhood. She’d been asked on dates during her years in Cambridge, but had always shied away from making any kind of commitment outside her studies. She hadn’t partied much because she’d wanted to return to Narabia with an education that would make her an asset to Narabia’s ongoing struggle to become self-sufficient.

      Cat and Zane had invested a fortune in her education. Cat had always insisted the money was not important, that Kasia had earned the opportunity after her years at the palace. But she wanted to be worthy of that investment. She was the first native Narabian woman to get such an opportunity. And she intended to be the first of many. Her studiousness had never felt a burden, though, until this moment.

      She had no experience of what to do with a physical attraction so intense it scared her a little.

      She’d always been curious about sex and excited to explore it—when the time was right. But as she watched the Prince’s butt muscles bunch and flex as he bent to scoop more water over his head, her breath clogged in her lungs and she wondered if it was possible to be too aroused. Too excited. Because the tightness in her nipples, the looseness in her thighs, and the gush of longing in her panties was becoming painful. And her heartbeat was so frantic she was concerned she might pass out.

      She breathed, trying to ease the sensations besieging her body, but then the Prince turned and began to wade towards her.

      Her gaze devoured his full-frontal male glory.

       Oh, my…

      Her thundering heartbeat crashed into her throat.

      His chest was as broad and heavily muscled as it had appeared last night, but now his skin glowed with health and vitality. He had his head bent, to watch his step as he strode over the rocks