Desert Fantasies. Barbara McMahon

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      The water was delicious, the repetitive rhythm of her strokes soothing in its own way, and a swim was turning out to be a very good idea. Until something grabbed hold of her ankle and pulled tight.

      She screamed and tugged and whatever it was let go. She came up spluttering, coughing sea water, and pushed a tangle of hair out of her eyes.

      ‘You!’ she said between coughs when she found Zoltan standing there grinning at her. ‘It’s not funny. You scared the hell out of me.’

      ‘Did you think you’d caught a shark, Princess?’

      ‘A shark would be preferable,’ she spat back and dived under the water to swim away. He was alongside her when she came up for air. ‘It’s a big ocean, you know. Go find your own bit to play in.’

      ‘Your strap is twisted,’ he said, ignoring her frustration and building on it by putting a hand to her shoulder, slipping his fingers underneath the strap and gently turning it up the right way. She gasped as his fingers brushed her skin, turning it to goose bumps and her nipples to hard peaks as he left his hand there longer than he needed. ‘That colour suits you, Princess. You look good enough to eat.’

      Nothing could stop the heat from flooding her face or the heavy, aching need pooling between her thighs. He was so big before her, so powerful, his shoulders broad, his chest dripping wet, and it was all she could do not to reach out a hand and feel if his skin felt as good as it looked.

      She yanked her eyes away, looked to the shore. ‘I should go back.’

      ‘Already?’

      ‘I had a head start. And I need to wash my hair.’

      He smiled one of those wide, lazy smiles that made his face look boyish, even a little bit handsome. ‘So you did. But of course you must go, Princess. Such a pressing need must be urgently addressed.’

      She knew he was laughing at her but she almost didn’t mind. Worse still, she almost found herself wishing he would make her stay. Which made no sense at all.