Midnight in the Desert Collection. Оливия Гейтс

think I know what I want,” she breathed, as his thumb found her taut, aching nipple and strummed it. “But maybe that’s not what you’re talking about.”

      “And what do you want?”

      She could hardly think straight, wasn’t even sure where she was or what was happening, only that she wanted more—more him, more skin, more sensation. “You.”

      “But for how long?” he asked, kissing the side of her neck and then brushing his lips over hers.

      She kissed him back, lifting an arm and clasping the back of his neck. He was so tall, so hard, so strong. She was safe with him. He’d never let anyone hurt her. “For ever,” she whispered against his mouth, not caring if he heard her, not caring about anything anymore but him.

      When would she ever meet someone like Zale Patek again? When would she ever feel so alive and beautiful again?

      He lifted his head to look into her eyes. His eyes were dark, his cheekbones jutted, his expression intense. He looked wild. Fierce. Primal.

      “Be careful what you say,” he murmured, molding her nearly naked body even closer to his. She could feel his warm skin against hers and his hard shaft press against her belly.

      He cupped her backside in his hands, holding her hips firmly against him, making her gasp as he rubbed her over the head of his shaft once and again.

      She could feel the thickness and length of his erection through his board shorts. Felt the corded muscles of his thighs and the thick muscles in his back. He was gorgeous, so very, very gorgeous. “I do want you,” she said, her voice breaking. “Even if it’s wrong.”

      His head dipped, his lips taking hers in a slow, deep, bone-melting kiss. “I can’t make love to you now,” he said, his voice hoarse in her ear. “But if you still feel this way tonight, Emmeline, you won’t be able to keep me out of your bed.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

      “WHY won’t you make love now?” Hannah asked dizzily, hands pressed to Zale’s warm bare chest. The sun beat down on her back and Zale felt so good, his skin smooth and firm, the scent of him addictive, almost as addictive as his kiss.

      His hands rested on her backside, his touch sending rivulets of pleasure through her.

      “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

      Beneath her palms she felt the steady beating of his heart. “You think I’ll regret it?”

      “Possibly. And I’d hate it if that happened.”

      “Smart,” she answered, voice husky. She sat up, disappointed. But she knew he was right. She probably would have regretted it. Obviously he had more control than she did.

      He sat up, caught the back of her head and kissed her head. “Don’t look so hurt.” His voice was pitched so deep it rumbled through her. “I’m trying to protect you, Emmeline. But it’s not easy doing the right thing.”

      She nodded and stood up, backed away a step, unsteady on her feet. “I understand,” she said, horribly close to tears. She liked Zale so much. Wanted him even more.

      Zale stood and brushed the sand off, his expression equally grim. “Shall we see what Chef packed us for lunch?”

      “Yes,” she answered, going to retrieve her towel to wrap around her waist.

      They sat in the middle of the blanket and Zale opened the hamper. Hannah watched, her head thick, senses drugged. If his kisses were this potent, Hannah couldn’t even imagine how she’d feel if they had sex.

      Zale unpacked the lunch hamper in silence and Hannah was good with that. She didn’t think she could make small talk, not when her emotions felt so wild. How could she be falling for Zale this hard? How could she want him this much, even when she knew he belonged to Emmeline?

      Her conscience felt stricken and yet there was something else primal fighting with her guilt.

      Need.

      Desire.

      And the desire was so foreign to her. She never wanted a man like this. Hadn’t needed a man in years.

      “I’ll let you help yourself,” Zale said, handing her a plate.

      Hannah looked at all the food Zale’s chef had sent—roast chicken, baguettes, cheeses, potato salad, beet salad, fruit and more—but her appetite was nonexistent.

      “Would you have regretted making love?” she asked abruptly, looking across at him.

      Zale sighed. “You have an amazing body and I’d have no problem taking you, exploring you. But … considering there are still serious decisions to be made, I don’t think we can just jump into bed.”

      “So you’re still trying to make up your mind about me.”

      He hesitated, then nodded.

      Hannah clenched her hands together. “Forgetting the past, what worries you most about me?”

      He looked off into the distance, his narrowed gaze fixed on a distant point out at sea and then his shoulders shifted. “You’re just so different, Emmeline. You’re not the woman I thought I was marrying. And I don’t understand what’s changed.”

      Hannah’s heart sank. “You don’t like … me?”

      “No, I do like you. I very much like the woman that is here on the beach right now. You’re smart, playful, confident and sexy. But that wasn’t the woman I proposed to a year ago. And that concerns me. People don’t change this much. Not at our age.”

      “Would you feel better if I was more like the old me?”

      “Maybe. Probably. I’d at least be on familiar ground.”

      Hannah mustered a smile even though she felt like crying. “Then I’ll work on getting the old me back. Hopefully it won’t take long.”

      They returned to the palace midafternoon after more swimming and sunbathing but there was tension between them and Hannah felt the strain. She was glad when the helicopter arrived to take them back to the palace and told herself she was glad when Zale let her walk away from him and return to her suite of rooms.

      She wasn’t glad, though.

      She didn’t want to be alone in her rooms. She wanted to be with him. Wanted what they’d had for a moment on the beach—tenderness, closeness, passion.

      Hannah paced her living room absolutely desperate. She’d agreed to play pretend and it was killing her. She wanted to tell Zale who she was, wanted him to know the truth about her, but she knew once she told him, she’d lose him altogether.

      It wasn’t fair that the one man she wanted most in the world was the one man she couldn’t have.

      If only she really was Emmeline d’Arcy. If only she could be the princess he needed.

      A soft, muffled sound reached her and Hannah paused in the middle of her suite to listen.

      There it was again, a low cry—part whimper, part moan—and it sounded as though it were coming from her adjoining bedroom.

      Hannah stiffened, her skin prickling. She was about to call for the palace guard when she heard the word Mari, Raguvian for Mama.

      And then again.

      Someone was crying for his mother.

      Timidly she went to her bedroom door and pushed it slightly open. Light spilled into the dark bedroom. She could hear the sound of crying more clearly.

       Mama, Mama.

      Hannah pushed the door all the way open and the light from the living room illuminated the bedroom. She could see all the way across the large