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

He walked with her from the open-air bathroom into the main part of the tent where, at his instruction, the women had left the creams and oils she would need to perform the treatment he had in mind.

‘I’ll just climb up on the bed,’ he said, dropping his towel.

‘The bed?’ she gasped.

‘We’ll call it the treatment couch, if you prefer.’

‘I do prefer,’ she assured him, staring fixedly away.

He hid his smile to save her blushes. That he should meet a woman so fresh and challenging had really opened his eyes. He could share his life with a woman like this—a woman who could fulfil public duties at his side with the same enthusiasm that she should for other, more caring issues, closer to his heart. But he was wedded to duty and to A’Qaban, he reminded himself sternly. There had never been any room in his life for the self-indulgence of a love affair.

‘Well? Get up on the couch,’ Casey rapped impatiently, bringing his honourable thoughts to an abrupt close.

She plunged her arms up to the elbows in a tub of cream. She could do this. She would do this. Timid virgin or not, she had confidence. She just needed to dig deep and prove it—to herself and to Raffa. To herself mostly, Casey admitted silently.

‘Don’t forget to warm your hands up first,’ Raffa told her dryly, moving his face to one side as he eased his position on the couch.

‘Don’t worry—I will.’ They were warm already—very warm—and so was she.

She hadn’t looked at Raffa properly yet. She needed a moment to prepare before doing that. She glanced at his towel on the floor, and checked her own towel was securely fastened.

Casey’s breath caught in her throat as she took her first look at Raffa’s naked form.

‘Steady,’ he warned as she slapped two handfuls of goo on his back. ‘Half of that landed on the floor.’

Possibly because she had her eyes tightly shut. ‘I read somewhere that a firm touch is needed,’ she defended, wondering if the spasms of delight she was experiencing would ever stop racing from her fingertips to her arms, from where they spread outwards to every part of her body.

‘Firm, but not slapdash,’ Raffa agreed huskily. ‘Would you like me to show you how?’

Rippling with muscle, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him anywhere—which was quite a bit different from her own well-upholstered form. ‘No, that’s all right—I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it.’

‘Rub the cream in well, but catch any dribbles on the towel first.’

‘Dribbles?’

‘Of cream?’

‘On my towel?’

‘On any towel …’

Leaning over him, she managed to hold onto the towel with her elbow and dab at him with the hem at the same time.

‘Don’t be so prissy—rub it in.’

Casey stared at Raffa’s sculpted shoulders before tentatively resting her fingertips against them.

‘Now, rub.’

Her whole body fired in response to the warm, firm flesh beneath her hands.

‘Use more pressure …’

She leaned against the couch, craving contact with Raffa in places that had never felt this much action before.

‘More …’

More? How could there be more than this? She felt swollen in certain places, short of breath, and hungry for Raffa in a way that made her throat tight and everything else rather too loose.

‘More pressure, Casey …’

‘I’m using all I can.’

‘Pathetic,’ he growled. ‘Try harder.’

Any harder than this and she’d explode. But she had to try, Casey told herself firmly. She couldn’t back down now. She explored the wide expanse of Raffa’s back with infinite care and absolute slowness. If she was going to do this, she was going to enjoy every minute of it. Closing her eyes, she used a little more pressure, and was rewarded by Raffa’s sigh.

‘Nice?’ she murmured.

‘Don’t distract yourself by talking—I’ll tell you when to stop.’

‘Okay …’ But he felt so good, so warm and full of energy; she wanted to be a lot closer to him than this. She leaned over, pressing herself against Raffa’s side, longing to ease the pressure inside her.

‘That’s much better,’ he said, with the suggestion of a smile in his voice. ‘I think you’re getting the hang of it at last …’

His face was deadpan, and his deep voice was muffled against his powerful forearms as she worked on his back, but his sigh of pleasure gave him away—he was enjoying this as much as she was. She took a detour over his bulging biceps and on down each of his forearms, which gave her the opportunity to press her chest against his back …

‘Much, much better,’ he husked contentedly.

She was enjoying herself so much by this time she wasn’t prepared when he turned on his back. ‘Now feel me,’ he said.

‘Feel you?’ She gulped.

‘My chest … Feel it … Explore, Casey.’

She shut her eyes and started tentatively to do as Raffa had suggested. But as she explored she grew bolder. He was magnificent. Raffa was a magnificent fighting machine … or a lover.