Hidden In The Sheikh's Harem. Michelle Conder
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there is only one blanket,’ he continued, shifting her even closer. ‘And, given that you can’t stop shaking, we need to share body heat to warm up. Relax and this will go a lot easier.’
Relax? Farah couldn’t have been more tense if he’d pointed a loaded gun at her head. It had been a long time since she had been physically close to anyone and all this bodily contact was messing with her head. ‘This isn’t right.’
‘But kidnapping your prince is fine.’
‘Must you always have the last word?’ she grumbled.
‘Must you?’
Not wanting to find anything remotely amusing about him, Farah curled herself into a tight ball to try to put distance between them. Self-sufficiency was a prized trait in the harsh desert climate and Farah was proud that, although she was female, she could survive on her own if she had to. She wanted to point this out to the prince but that would involve speaking to him and she’d much rather pretend he wasn’t there. She’d much rather pretend she was in her own bed than on the cold, hard ground wrapped in the strong arms of her father’s number one enemy.
* * *
Finally she fell asleep. Thank Allah. Once her trembling had subsided, she’d squirmed around trying to get comfortable to the point that Zach had needed to place a staying hand on her hip to stop her from rubbing her bottom against his burning erection one more time. It was bad enough he even had one let alone her knowing about it.
Realising that his hand was still gripping her hip, he eased it away. He knew his reaction to her was based on his recent bout of celibacy and little else. Maybe the way danger heightened the senses, as well. Whatever it was, he had no intention of acting on it. He wasn’t the type to lose his head over anything and one slender spitfire wouldn’t change that.
Sighing, he shifted to get comfortable. The little spitfire whimpered in her sleep like a small kitten having a bad dream. He didn’t doubt she was and he wondered if it featured a jail cell and the span of twenty years. That brought a small smile to his lips, one that was quickly supplanted by a scowl when she burrowed closer to his warmth. He briefly thought about putting his arm beneath her head to offer his biceps as a pillow but then dismissed the idea. What did he care about her comfort? She might have offered him food earlier and... Damn. Just the thought of her crouching over him and bringing the food to his lips was enough to have his mind spiralling back to what she would look like naked. He’d noticed the telltale flush of arousal on her face when he’d drawn her fingers into his mouth and laved them with his tongue, the way her eyes had glazed with desire. She’d been turned on and, damn it, so was he. Again.
Absently he wondered if she was intimate with the arrogant soldier who had argued with her. He clearly wanted her. Not that Zach cared, but there was definite tension between the two of them. The man was clearly a moron, though, to have left her alone with him. If she had been his woman there was no way he’d have let her have her own way in a dangerous situation. She would be his to take care of. His to protect. And thank Allah she wasn’t.
He felt her shiver and curl into a tighter ball. She must still be cold; he damned well was. Cold, hungry, angry and his arms and torso felt like they were covered in a thousand tiny pinpricks from where the sand and rain had pelted him in the storm.
He let out an aggrieved sigh. Farah Hajjar better not give him any trouble in the morning because he was very far from his cool, controlled self.
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