The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition: The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition. Jennifer Lewis

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СКАЧАТЬ of his clothes, he pressed his skin to hers, enjoying the sweet, soft warmth of her in his arms.

      His arousal was intense, agonizing, and if they didn’t make love right now, he wasn’t sure what would happen. He did still have the presence of mind to don a condom. The last thing he wanted was for her to get pregnant.

      He lowered her gently onto the bed, where a shaft of moonlight danced over the sheets and her soft skin.

      Celia let out a little cry as he entered her. He opened his eyes, worried that he’d hurt her. Her face soothed his fears. A smile lit her features and her golden lashes fluttered as she writhed under him, clutching him closer.

      Salim moved gingerly inside her—easing into a rhythm, then pulling back—wringing every second of sweet pleasure from the closeness he’d craved for so long. He ran his hands over her skin, pressed his fingers into her back and through the silk of her hair.

      Years ago he might have rushed, eager to take his pleasure like a child with a bowl of candy. Back then, there was always more candy, maybe even sweeter, waiting for him tomorrow.

      Now he was wiser and knew that life’s sweetest moments must be savored, for that single perfect moment would never come again.

      Her cheek, hot against his, felt so familiar. Her body, moving under him in quickening rhythm, was different and more delicious than ever. Her breasts seemed fuller and her belly softer. Her hips had more of a curve to them, as they lifted to meet his. Celia’s slim, girlish body had ripened and filled out into delightful feminine perfection. He could swear her body had changed even since he’d last seen her.

      “Your curves are fuller,” he breathed.

      Her breath caught for a second.

      “It’s a compliment,” he reassured her. He’d forgotten Americans praised slimness above all else. “You become more lovely with each passing year.”

      “Or your sight gets dimmer with each year,” she teased.

      He released a ragged sigh as her long fingers dragged a trail of passion along his back.

      “I’m not using my sight.” He caressed her soft and seductive backside with his fingers. Pleasure rippled through him. “Even if I was blind, my other senses wouldn’t lie to me.”

      He opened his eyes as if to reassure himself that the madness of his desire for Celia hadn’t deprived him of his senses. In the dim light of the lamp he saw her delicate features, glowing gold, her lips parted in breathy moans.

      He slowed the rhythm, layering kisses along her collarbone until her eyes opened. In the semidarkness they were blue as the night-dark sea outside.

      A smile tilted her sensual mouth. “You’ve filled out, too. All muscle.” She squeezed his bicep between her long fingers. “It seems cruel that you should get even more handsome as you get older.”

      “I could say the same for you, but I’d rather enjoy your beauty.” He kissed her cheeks and her mouth, slow and gentle, relishing each brush of their skin. Her scent was intoxicating, like wild honey discovered just where you least expect it, filling the senses to the point of madness.

      Madness. This must be madness. Wasn’t he trying to cure himself of Celia?

      Their tryst was having the very opposite effect.

      A flare of anger—mixed inexorably with pure lust—flashed through him.

      How did this woman have so much power over him?

      Almost as if she heard his unspoken question, Celia angled one of her long legs over his, and deftly flipped their positions until she was on top.

      Triumph flared in her eyes as she took him deep.

      Salim moaned as pleasure cascaded through him. He’d always adored her sexual confidence—which they’d found and nurtured together—and the way she loved to take charge.

      Her nipples hovered over him in the dim light, darker and fuller than he remembered, tempting his thumbs to strum their peaks. Celia sighed as he stroked her breasts, and she moved in a hypnotic rhythm, like a belly dancer, drawing him deeper and deeper.

      She was taking him into a world where none of his senses functioned properly. A strange yet familiar place where his nerves were alive and tingling with pleasure so intense it felt like pain.

      Celia bent and kissed him on the mouth, bold and beautiful, claiming him.

      He kissed back, unable to stop himself. Lust and mischief soon had them clawing and nipping at each other. He was tempted to suck hard enough to brand her with the mark of his desire.

      But he didn’t. He was a gentleman, even in this moment of unbearable and delicious torture.

      With a movement faster than her own, he grabbed hold of her thighs and maneuvered them both into a sitting position. Legs wrapped around each other, they sat face to face, with him still buried deep—and active—inside her.

      She laughed. He’d picked one of the familiar positions from ancient India they’d studied and enjoyed all those years ago.

      “It’s a classic,” he murmured, enjoying the face-to-face contact the position allowed. He kissed her on the mouth hard, then pulled back.

      “It always slows things right down, doesn’t it?” She looked at him through narrowed eyes. Her tongue flicked over her lips, tantalizing.

      “Sometimes it’s good to slow things down.”

      “When you’re about to lose control?”

      “I never lose control,” he growled.

      “Now that’s an outright lie.” Celia leaned forward, and brushed his chest with the aroused tips of her nipples.

      “Okay,” he rasped. “Only sometimes.”

      “Like when you’re with me.” She brushed her thumb over the curve of his mouth, daring him to argue.

      “When I’m with you,” he echoed. He seized her, flipping them again until he was on top, and sinking deeper into her hot and enticing depths.

      Celia let out a long, shivering sigh and clutched him close.

      Her muscles contracted around him when her climax seized her. In an instant he lost control.

      He let out a tortured groan and clutched her to him while sensation rocked him like an earthquake. Colors and patterns burst in front of his eyes, and he clung to Celia as his whole world shook and shuddered and threatened to crumble.

      He didn’t want to let Celia go.

      And that in itself was a big problem.

      * * *

      If Celia could stay right here, in Salim’s warm, strong arms, she’d be fine. She was sure of it.

      She could hear the sea outside the window, waves lapping against the soft white sand. The tide going in, or out, whichever it was, just as it did every day and night since the СКАЧАТЬ