Bound To Her Desert Captor

He scowled at the unruly thought. It had been a long time since he’d been influenced by his emotions rather than his intellect as well; some might have said never. Milena often accused him of having ice running through his veins, of being inhuman. He wasn’t. He was as human as the next man, as his physical reaction to Regan James earlier had proven.

The fact was, Jag had learned to control his emotions at an early age and he didn’t see anything wrong with that. As a leader it was essential that he keep a cool head when everyone else was losing theirs. He had certainly never let a pretty face or a sexy body influence his decision-making process and he never would.

Irritated that he was even pondering emotions and sex, he raised his fist to bang on the door.

He heard the sound of water being shut off and a feminine, ‘Just a minute.’

He let out a rough breath. Excellent; she was just out of the shower.

The door opened wide and he found himself staring into Regan James’s gorgeous eyes. Seconds seemed to lengthen into minutes as his eyes automatically travelled down her slender form.

‘You!’

‘Me,’ Jaeger growled, his voice roughened by the swift rise of his body at the sight of her in a cotton dressing gown and towel around her head. He pushed past her into the room before she had a chance to collect herself and slam the door in his face.

‘Hold on. You can’t come barging in here.’

Jag didn’t bother to point out the obvious. That he already had. Instead he scanned the small room, looking for any signs that might clue him in as to where her brother might be.

‘Did you hear me?’ She yanked on his arm to turn him towards her and the move was so unexpected, so shocking that he did indeed turn towards her, a frown on his face. Nobody touched him without first being given permission to do so. Ever.

His eyes narrowed as she clutched the lapels of her robe closed, making him acutely aware that she was naked beneath the thin cloth. He wanted nothing more than to wrench the garment from her body and sink into her feminine softness until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be burdened by duty. Until he couldn’t remember what it felt like to be alone. But no one could escape destiny and one night in this woman’s arms wouldn’t change anything. Duty and loneliness went hand in hand. He’d learned that from watching his father.

Savagely tamping down on needs that had materialised from who knew where, he scowled at her.

‘I heard you.’

‘Then...’ She lifted her chin in response to his brusqueness. ‘What are you doing here?’

Jag glanced at the photo of her brother in his hand before flicking it onto the coffee table. ‘You left this behind.’

Her gaze landed on the photo. ‘Well...thanks for returning it, but you could have left it with the front desk downstairs.’

Ignoring her, Jag raised the flap of her suitcase and peered at the contents. ‘Is this all the luggage you have?’

Frowning at him, she crossed the room and slammed it closed. ‘That’s none of your business.’

Deciding that he’d wasted enough time humouring this woman, Jag gave her a look that usually sent grown men into hiding. ‘I asked you a question.’

This close, he dwarfed her in height and form, but her instincts for survival must have been truly lost because she still didn’t move back from him.

‘And I asked you to leave,’ she shot back.

Jag’s lip curled. He would have thought her much braver than she looked if not for that pulse point throbbing like a battering ram at the base of her neck.

‘I’m not leaving.’ His voice held a dark warning. ‘Not before you’ve told me everything you know about your brother.’

‘You do know my brother, don’t you?’ Finally she took a quick step backwards. ‘Do you also know where he is? Did you lie about that?’

‘I ask the questions. You answer them,’ he stated coldly.

She shook her head. ‘Who are you?’

‘That is not important.’

‘Do you have my brother?’ Her voice held a fine tremor of panic. ‘You do, don’t you?’

Jag’s lip curled into a snarl. ‘If I had your brother, why would I be here?’

‘I don’t know.’ Those cinnamon-brown eyes were riveted to his. ‘I don’t know what you want or why you’re here.’ She swallowed heavily and Jag felt his chest constrict at her obvious fear. The need to soothe it—the need to soothe her—took him completely by surprise.

Knowing this would go a lot easier if she were relaxed he tried for a conciliatory tone. ‘There’s no need to be afraid, Miss James. I merely want to ask you some questions.’

His saying her name seemed to jolt something loose inside of her. He saw the rise of panic in the way her eyes darted to the side, clearly searching out an avenue of escape. Before he could think of how to placate her, to put her at ease, she darted, quick as a whippet, towards the hotel room phone.

If he’d wanted to alert hotel security to his presence he’d have called them himself and he had no choice but to stop her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and lifting her bodily off the ground.

She fought him like a little cat with its tail caught in a door, her nails digging into his forearms, the towel around her head whipping him in the face before falling to the ground.

‘Keep still,’ Jag growled, wincing as her heel connected with his shin. For a little thing she had a lot of spunk in her and if he wasn’t so irritated he’d be impressed. ‘Dammit, I’m not—’ Jag grunted out an expletive as her elbow came perilously close to connecting with his groin.

Deciding to put an end to her thrashing, he spun her around to face him and gripped her hands behind her back, bringing her body into full contact with his. Her flimsy robe had become dislodged during the struggle and this new position put her barely constrained breasts flat up against the wall of his chest. His traitorous body registered the impact and responded as if it belonged to a fifteen-year-old youth rather than a thirty-year-old man who was also a king.

She panted as she glared up at him, her wet hair wild around her flushed face. Jag’s breath stalled. Like this, with her cheeks flushed, her lips parted, her breathing ragged, she looked absolutely magnificent. And that was absolutely irrelevant.

‘I’m going to put you down,’ he said carefully. ‘If you run again, or go for the weapon in your handbag, I’ll restrain you. If you stay put this will be a lot easier.’

For him at least.

Her fulminating glare told him she didn’t believe him, but at least she’d stopped struggling.

He shook his head when she remained stubbornly silent and released her anyway. He was twice her size; if she ran again he’d stop her again. Only he’d prefer not to. It was most likely due to the stress of his sister’s disappearance, but being this close to Regan James was playing havoc with his senses.

‘Where is your phone?’

He’d check to see if she’d received any calls during the day and move on from there. He glanced into her angry face when she didn’t immediately answer. By the set of her jaw she had no intention of doing so.

‘Miss James, do not infuriate me again by making this more difficult than it has to be.’

‘Infuriate you! That’s rich! You follow me to my hotel, barge into my room and then attack me. And you’re the one who’s infuriated?’

‘I did not attack you,’ Jag said with all the patience of a saint. ‘I restrained you and I will do so again if you run again. Be warned.’

She folded her arms across her chest, a shiver racing down her body. ‘What do you want?’ She lifted her chin at a haughty angle.

‘Not you,’ he grated, ‘so you can rest easy about that.’

She looked at him as if she didn’t believe him and he could hardly blame her after the way he’d handled her. Still, it was true. He preferred his lovers sophisticated, compliant and willing. She was none of those three. So why was he so affected by her?