The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition: The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition
tried to push you out of my mind.” His words rang with pain, and tailed off as he crushed his mouth over hers again, a groan of relief shuddering through him.
Tears sprang to Celia’s eyes. Fierce emotion threatened to overwhelm her. “Me, too,” she breathed into his ear, while he layered hot kisses along her neck.
She’d fallen so easily into his arms four years ago, despite how he’d hurt her. She couldn’t help it. The connection between them was too strong to resist.
He grabbed her hand. “Come with me.” He led her down to the beach, where she pulled off her hard-to-run-in slippers and let the cool sand welcome her toes. “My private apartment.” He gestured to a small peninsula jutting out into the ocean’s gentle waves. An elegant white building with typical Omani crenelations along the roofline—like a medieval castle in miniature—perched just over the rippling surf. Light illuminated a narrow arched window.
He ran so fast she could barely keep up.
Celia didn’t protest. She couldn’t even think, let alone talk.
He pushed open a carved door and ushered her inside. A lamp glowed in a corner, illuminating a simple, masculine space with bare white walls and a smooth stone floor. An ornate silver coffeepot glowed on a shelf, the only decoration besides the high arched windows shaded by carved wood screens.
Celia drank in the details, maybe because she’d been starved of information about Salim for so long. She’d wondered where he lived, and how, without her all this time.
He led her through a polished door in the far wall into what was obviously his bedroom.
A large white bed filled the center of the octagonal room. Tall windows punctuated each wall, providing slivers of ocean view where the moon danced over shimmering black water. Otherwise the space was ascetic as a monk’s cell.
The space of a man who lived alone, with no woman in his life.
Salim closed the door behind her and slid his arms around her, muscles shuddering with urgency. His fingers roved over her back through the thin silk of her dress. He kissed her again and again, until her fingers plucked at his shirt buttons in thoughtless desperation.
“I missed you,” his breath was hot on her neck. “Seeing you again four years ago only made it worse. I’ve craved you, wished for you.”
Salim’s blood hummed with tension so thick he felt he might explode.
He never forgot her. Not for want of trying. He’d done everything he could think of to expunge her from his body and soul.
He’d poured himself into his work, spent his time building an empire and filling it with people as passionate as himself.
But he never forgot Celia.
He’d had to try all over again after their fateful meeting in Manhattan. The very last person he’d thought to see there, she almost knocked him flat with her beauty and poise. He’d been helpless in the glow of her smile, and the warm greeting she’d offered, letting him know the past was gone and forgotten.
And he’d been forced to start over from scratch, trying to forget her again.
“It feels like heaven being here with you.”
His words echoed off the walls, painfully true, as he touched her. She was so perfect, so precious, so totally unchanged, like time had captured her in amber and saved her for him, despite all his mistakes.
He lifted her diaphanous dress over her head in a swift movement and groaned at the sight of her breasts in their simple white bra.
Celia’s hands gripped his upper arms with force as he lowered his mouth to her breasts, giving in to whatever primal forces drove him. He didn’t fight the instincts he’d tried so hard to crush out of existence.
His lips brushed the cotton, tasting the shape of her thickened nipples through the soft fabric. Sensation kicked through him, firing his muscles and making his heart pound.
He unhooked her bra and slid her panties down her slender, muscled legs.
Celia laughed, a magical sound that filled his ears and echoed in his chest.
Laughter had been missing from his life for far too long. He’d tried so hard to do the right thing, to be the dutiful son and the upstanding businessman, when what he really wanted was … Celia.
Her hands tugged at his shirt and he realized that she’d undone all the buttons and was trying to remove it. Laughing again, he helped her, shrugging out of it and struggling with the fly of his pants.
Her face glowed in the soft moonlight, eyes closed and an expression of joy lighting her lovely features.
“You’re perfect.”
He said the words aloud right as he felt them, holding nothing back. Freed 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