Undressed by the Boss: Sheikh Boss, Hot Desert Nights / The Boss's Bedroom Agenda / Taken by the Maverick Millionaire

She didn’t answer, and he guessed she was still taking stock of her position. She was alone in the desert with him, with attraction gaining momentum every minute as they got to know each other better. He would make love to her here, in the most beautiful and challenging place on earth. He had wanted to make love to Casey from the moment they met, but would only do so when he was certain she felt unthreatened and safe in every way.

Then there would only be one danger left, he reflected, which was Casey’s sexual appetite. It had been repressed for so long that when she finally let go he had a feeling it would consume her. But when that happened he would be ready.

‘I’ve got Halloumi cheese, mango, pine nuts and some green stuff in those saddle bags—so get thinking,’ he told her lightly on the way out of the tent. ‘I’m hungry,’ he added with a casual shrug, as if his stomach was the only part of his body making demands on him these days, ‘and I’m sure you are too …’

She looked relieved, as he’d hoped she would, as she started to work out her menu, while he badly needed to work off some energy. Slinging a towel over his shoulder, he headed at speed for the calming waters of the oasis.

She had the ingredients neatly lined up and a plan in her head by the time Raffa returned from his swim. ‘All clear at the oasis,’ he called to her from outside the tent. ‘You can have your swim in absolute privacy while I find some more tinder for our fire.’

She would have liked to have seen him in the simple black robes, but he had taken them with him and her imagination had to do the rest. She waited until he had gone, and then peeped out of the tent to be sure it was all clear. She had dreamed of this moment, and ran down to the oasis as fast as she could, with the sort of abandonment she hadn’t felt since she was a child, when a swim had meant plunging into an icy river. This was very different. She paused at the brink, just to stare for a moment at the beauty of the desert all around her. She had the moonlight to herself, and the stars were twinkling …

Strangely, she felt quite safe—the Raffa effect, she guessed. Though remembering his warning about bugs, she checked around first before leaving her clothing on a rock. She had intended to leave her underwear on, but at the last moment she decided to take it off and rinse it through for the next day. She was quite alone—not that she needed an excuse to go skinny-dipping.

Stepping into the water, she cautiously made her way forward. Raffa had been right. The ground beneath her feet felt firm and there were no pebbles underfoot. The water had been heated to body temperature by the desert sun and, guessing this would be the most magical thing she had ever done, she launched herself in. Putting her head down, she began to swim seriously.

It was some time later when she remembered she was supposed to be helping Raffa prepare a meal. It was just so hard to tear herself away from the oasis …

Lifting her head to get her bearings, she saw a tall, robed figure watching her from the bank. She swam to shore, while Raffa came down from the dune where he’d been standing guard to meet her. He was just a few feet away as she crouched self-consciously in the shallows. His face was shadowed by the howlis, which he had put on again with his robe, and his eyes were bright in the darkness.

There was a brief flash of white as he smiled. ‘Did you forget something?’ he murmured.

For a moment she wondered what he meant, but then she realised that in her excitement she had run down to the oasis without a towel. ‘Did you bring one?’

Raffa’s answer was to open his arms to her.

Would she trust him enough to come out of the water? The moment was as crucial for him as it was for Casey. Sexual frustration was eating him up from the inside out.

He waited on the bank until, like a water nymph of unbelievable perfection, she rose out of the water and came steadily towards him. A surge of some primal instinct bathed him as he enclosed her in his robe. She must feel his body heat, as he could feel hers, but his only thought as he drew the folds of cloth around her was to keep her safe.

‘You were watching me,’ she accused softly, trembling a little as she slowly relaxed.

‘Did you think I would let you swim on your own in the darkness? What if something had gone wrong?’

‘I’m a strong swimmer, Raffa.’

‘Even strong swimmers get cramp.’

During this short conversation he felt her growing awareness of their naked bodies touching. Casey’s damp, his dry. And though he had ensured there was some fabric between them, it was hardly a barrier. He held her in his arms until she felt safe enough to rest her head against his chest. Savouring that for a moment, he shifted position, forcing Casey to move.

‘Come on,’ he said holding out his hand. ‘We’re both hungry.’

In a moment of complete trust she put her hand in his. ‘I’m ready, Raffa.’

Raising her slender fingers to his lips, he said, ‘I know.’

‘Thank you again,’ she said in a way that told him she didn’t want to let her fantasies run away with her. Her next words confirmed it: ‘Hopefully this will be the last time you’ll have to bail me out.’

‘And if it’s not, you shouldn’t worry. You can take advantage of me all you like.’ He kept his robe around her, so she was hidden from sight but not from his senses as they walked back to camp. He could detect the clean oxygenated water, and even the sand between her toes, he was so keenly tuned to her. She was trying hard not to read too much into what had happened, while he was exulting. He said nothing until they reached the tented pavilion, where he moved the entrance flap for her.

‘The robes are in the chest,’ he reminded her. ‘Help yourself.’

After he let the tent flap drop he stood a moment, breathing deeply, wondering how he was going to hold back from going straight to Casey now and making love to her all night. Anticipation, he mused, smiling a little as he walked away. Never had he felt hunger like this before. But the erotic build-up would put Casey’s senses in a state of the utmost awareness, allowing her to extract the ultimate from each and every sensation—which was what he wanted for her.

She held her breath as she listened to Raffa walking away. For a moment she had thought he would come back into the tent, but he was going to make her wait—either that or he didn’t want her after all.

That had to be it, she reasoned, pulling back from her stupid vigil. What was she waiting for, exactly?

Lifting the lid of the clothes chest, she selected the plainest robe in the smallest size. It was still far too big for her, but at least it was simple and serviceable and wouldn’t draw attention. She didn’t want to look as if she was trying too hard.

Having arranged it to cover as much of herself as she could, she scraped her still damp hair back into a ponytail before walking outside.

Raffa was stoking the fire, having removed his howlis. ‘You look good in that,’ he commented, casting a lazy glance over her.

And you look even better, Casey thought as his earring glinted when the flames rose. In fact, he looked amazing. What did she think she doing in the velvet night with the ruler of this country, when it was more a case of when rather than if she would beg him to seduce her.

‘Didn’t you find any sandals to fit?’

Jolted reluctantly from her daydream, Casey was immediately self-conscious in the face of Raffa’s blistering glamour. ‘No, I … I didn’t think—’

Springing up, he handed her the long stick he was using to adjust the tinder. ‘Watch the fire for me for a minute—and for goodness’ sake stand well back from the flames.’

‘I’m not a—’ Too late. Raffa was gone. She could hear him moving about in the tent.

He was back moments later, with a pair of simple thonged sandals. ‘Put these on. You’ll feel better with something protecting your feet from the sand. The way it moves can make your feet ache after a while …’

And was there a cure for a heart that ached all the time? Casey wondered as she slipped her feet into the sandals.

They ate together seated on cushions outside the tent. From there, as Raffa had promised, they could see the stars. The simple meal Casey had suggested hadn’t taken much preparation, but it had been long enough for their mood to return to the easy companionship they had established before the erotically charged episode at the oasis.

‘This is good,’ Raffa commented with approval as he wolfed down the last of the griddled halloumi cheese Casey had arranged in slices, alternated with fresh mango. She’d put a sprinkling of toasted pine nuts on top of the salad she had prepared. ‘Where did you learn to cook like this?’

This definitely wasn’t the moment to admit she had downloaded the recipe from a supermarket site. She had to keep her fantasy alive beneath the stars. ‘I must have a natural talent.’

Raffa stopped chewing for a moment to stare at her. ‘Either that or you used a recipe.’

They both laughed, and then he said, ‘And as the next course is down to me I’ll have to look to my laurels, I can see …’

So the unreconstructed alpha male could prepare food as well as look hotter than hell in a desert robe? Life just wasn’t fair sometimes, Casey thought ruefully as Raffa sprang up.

‘Figs,’ he said, dangling them in front of her. ‘Ripe, succulent, fresh from the tree.’

He made figs sound like the most erotic fruit on earth. She gulped as he selected a fat purple fruit just for her, and was so flustered by the time he touched it to her lips she managed to knock the coffee over.

‘Kab al gahwa khay!’ Raffa exclaimed.

‘What did you say?’

‘It’s a good omen,’ he explained. ‘Knocking coffee over is considered to be lucky in A’Qaban. So what I said to you was, bad luck often brings good luck in its wake.’