Heir to a Desert Legacy - By Maisey Yates Page 0,38

a bassinet at her feet, and an elderly woman was kneeling in front of her, singing softly and painting intricate designs on Chloe’s hands and feet.

Chloe looked up sharply, shimmering strands of red hair catching the light, the backdrop of the blue ocean highlighting the depth of her eyes. She had no makeup on, but then, Chloe rarely did. Nothing beyond the minimum. But something about her struck him as different. Fresh, her freckles clearly visible, her skin pink.

She was brighter, he realized. Not as exhausted. The dark circles under her eyes had faded away.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” she said.

The woman who was working on the henna turned and bowed her head low, her forehead brushing the ground, then she turned back and continued on with her design. The display meant nothing to him. A customary show of servitude. But at this point, one he gladly took as a positive sign that he was being accepted in his temporary position. That his impending marriage to Chloe was having the desired effect.

“When were you expecting me to show up? Just in time for vows?”

“Something like that,” she said.

“Well, I’m not quite so last-minute. I wanted to go over security measures with Alik.”

“Oh, right.”

He watched her face closely when he said his friend’s name. “You’ve met Alik?”

“Of course. He’s very friendly.”

“How friendly exactly?” he asked, his teeth gritted.

“Well he...” She cut herself off. “Are you...irritated?”

“No.”

“You are. Are you...bothered by the fact that he was friendly to me?”

He snorted. “That’s ridiculous. I would hope he was friendly to you. You are the future sheikha of Attar.”

She tilted her head to the side and squinted, as if she was studying a specimen beneath a microscope. “You...are you jealous?”

“I am not given to the emotion in any circumstance. Not even with a woman who is my lover. There is absolutely no reason I would feel it in connection with you.”

“That’s very true. There isn’t a reason. Except that I’m marrying you tomorrow and while the institution is human in concept, the idea of a male possessing his mate with some form of exclusivity runs across species. How else can a male be certain his offspring is truly his?”

“The offspring in this instance is not mine, as you well know. And as I don’t—” he looked down at the woman, still working on Chloe’s feet “—as you are well aware, our situation is different.”

“But it’s a deep-seated male need, so the fact that your brain knows it doesn’t necessarily mean your body does.”

He arched one brow and looked at her. Color crept into her cheeks slowly, staining the freckles a darker shade. “I suppose that is true,” he said, just for a moment, one moment, embracing the dark, restless ache that spread through his body whenever he looked at her. Acknowledging what it was. Attraction. Lust. Letting himself fully visualize all the fantasies that had been rioting through his brain in fuzzy, half-formed pictures for over a week.

Her body, beneath his, arching into him as he chased his release inside of her. Bending her over, making her grip the headboard, hands tight on her hips as he thrust inside.

Oh, yes, that was what he wanted.

And he would not allow himself to have it. Because the lust he felt for her wasn’t simple. It went deeper, went to a place he had to deny existed. The place with all the cracks. The place that held his weakness.

“You think you know what it is my body wants?” he asked, aware that his voice sounded rough.

The color in her cheeks deepened. “I mean, in terms of...the fidelity aspect and the um...reproductive um...and laying claims to offspring, and so on...well...yes?”

He chuckled, letting the erotic images of a few moments before replay in his mind. “No. I don’t think you know what my body wants. I’m not sure you know what yours wants, either.”

She frowned, lush lips pulled down. “That’s ridiculous. Of course I know what my body wants.”

“But you think I don’t?”

“No, I think what your body wants and what your mind believes to be true are at odds. That’s different.”

“I see. And what is it your body wants, Chloe?”

He waited, watched as she seemed to have a mini-realization. Her lips parted slightly, her eyes widening. “Not...not that,” she said.

It was as though she’d only just picked up on the depth of the innuendo in the conversation. And that seemed strange to him. A woman of her age and beauty, should be well aware of the undertones to