Claimed for the Desert Prince's Heir

by Heidi Rice

  But just because he wanted marriage for all the wrong reasons—for honour, and duty and responsibility and because she was carrying his child—it didn’t mean they couldn’t fall in love, or at least use this trip to find an accord that would stand them in good stead when they became parents.

  She wasn’t going to rule anything out. She wanted to keep her heart and her mind open, to absorb every sight and sound and sensation and to discover everything she could about a man who had always fascinated her.

  Raif trailed kisses up her neck, the teasing licks and nips of his tongue and teeth sending the familiar shivers of anticipation darting down to her core. She softened against him, the magnificent view nowhere near as awesome as the feel of having his arms around her again. She tilted her head to give him better access, and covered his hands with hers as her breathing accelerated.

  He hadn’t touched her since the kiss they had shared to seal the deal they’d made in Walmsley’s office. And she’d been looking forward to continuing their sexual relationship every moment since—because sex was the one thing in their relationship that was uncomplicated and straightforward. And sex seemed like the perfect way to get closer to him, to continue knocking down the wall he used to shut people out.

  Feeling his erection pressing against her back, she shifted in his arms, more than ready to take his tantalising kisses to the next level. But as she lifted her arms to draw him closer, his hands gripped her waist, keeping her at arm’s length.

  ‘Stop, my little witch,’ he said, a tight smile on his face. ‘We cannot.’

  ‘Why not?’ she asked, unable to hide her disappointment as she let her arms drop, suddenly hesitant and unsure of herself.

  ‘There is not enough time,’ he said, as he brushed a thumb across her cheek, setting off all the usual reactions at her core. ‘I have an important meeting to attend this evening.’

  ‘Really?’ she said, perplexed now as well as disappointed. ‘But it’s almost dark.’ And she’d been looking forward to some quality time alone with him ever since yesterday’s kiss.

  Why had he started something he couldn’t finish? Her gaze darted down to the thick ridge in his pants that suggested she hadn’t read the situation entirely wrongly.

  ‘In Paris, they conduct business at all hours,’ he said, giving a strained chuckle. ‘I must shower and change before I go. And you should rest,’ he added. ‘It has been a long, tiring journey.’

  No, it hadn’t. He’d only picked her up a few hours ago, and being transported in a chauffeur-driven limousine and a private jet—and waited on hand and foot—was hardly stressful.

  ‘I’m not tired,’ she said. Then, getting up all her courage, she added, ‘Perhaps I could join you in the shower?’

  His pupils dilated to black and his jaw tensed, but the tight smile remained as he shook his head. ‘It is going to be a cold shower—if you join me, the purpose of it will be defeated.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ she said, unable to deny the little leap of excitement that she could affect him in that way.

  But when he lifted her hand to graze a perfunctory kiss across her knuckles, then left her standing on the balcony alone, the disappointment—and confusion—returned. Especially when she discovered Raif had directed the porters to put her two suitcases in a bedroom on the other side of the suite’s luxury living area from his own.

  Had she misconstrued his intentions? Should she say something? She had thought that they would be together. Really together. And it wasn’t just about the sex, she wanted to share the intimacy of waking up in his arms, and discovering all his annoying little habits. They only had three weeks so why would he want to spend them in separate bedrooms?

  ‘Will you be okay on your own tonight?’

  She swung round from the balcony of her bedroom to find him standing at the door in a newly pressed suit, his damp hair slicked back, his jaw clean shaven.

  She swallowed her disappointment and tried to contain the inevitable leap of lust. She was being ridiculous, this was their first night, he was giving her space, being considerate. She must not overreact.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said.

  He strode towards her, and clasped her face in his hands. ‘Order something from room service, there is a Michelin-starred chef here, I believe.’

  ‘You won’t be back in time for dinner?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said, but she could see the lie in his eyes—she wouldn’t see him again tonight. ‘But if I am delayed, I don’t want you to go hungry.’ He gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. ‘Get a good night’s sleep.’

  After the main door of the suite had closed behind him, she turned back to the romantic view, which seemed to be mocking her. The sun had almost disappeared behind the rooftops, making the lights on the iconic tower glow orange in the dusk. She let out a tortured breath.

  Maybe a cold shower wouldn’t be a bad idea for her, too, before she examined the room service menu.

  She had three whole weeks to get to know the father of her child, and she had this beautiful city to explore over the next few days while he was busy in his meetings. Intimacy couldn’t be rushed. And they were as hungry for each other as they had ever been—a slight delay would only make them more eager.

  She was being paranoid and insecure, because she had no experience of how to conduct an intimate relationship, any more than she suspected Raif did.

  She placed a warm palm on the waistband of her jeans, which had already started to get a little tight, and smiled.

  She needed to slow down and enjoy the moment, and stop wishing for more, when she already had so much.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  YOU NEED TO stop messing about and seduce him—tonight.

  Kasia smoothed shaky palms down the purple satin of the gown she had been fitted for that morning in an exclusive designer boutique just off the Champs-Élysées.

  They’d been in Paris for four days now—and four nights—and despite two evening meals in the hotel’s Michelin-starred rooftop restaurant, when their conversation had been stilted and polite, she’d barely seen Raif or spoken to him. Part of that had been her fault. Each morning, after surviving the now regular bout of morning sickness, she’d fallen back into bed exhausted and woken up hours later to find him gone.

  But the nights she had spent alone, deposited back at the suite with a perfunctory kiss and an increasingly banal excuse, were entirely Raif’s fault.

  Why didn’t he want to spend any quality time with her? Why didn’t he even want to sleep with her? She knew desire was not the problem, from the way she’d caught him looking at her on several occasions before he could mask it.

  Keeping herself busy and trying not to dwell on the progress they weren’t making hadn’t been too hard. He’d left a car and driver at her disposal and given her a platinum credit card that she’d used to buy a suitable wardrobe for the charity ball they were attending tonight.

  There had been so many places to explore, so many sights and sounds to excite and entertain her, but underneath the excitement had always been the disappointment she wasn’t seeing any of them with him. She hadn’t pressed him, though, on the time they spent apart. She knew he was busy, and the principal reason for him being in Paris was his business interests in Europe. She’d been impressed with how hard he worked, had even been a little bit astonished to discover he spoke fluent German, French and Italian.

  On the one morning she’d managed to wake up before he’d left for the day she’d heard him conversing in all three languages during a conference call.

  But tonight was going to be different. They were attending a charity ball at the Petit Palais and she’d spent all day preparing her master plan—to finally turn the heated promise in his eyes into reality.

  The gown’s classic lines and sleek, simple cut hugged her curves and managed to look elegant despite accentuating her increasingl
y generous bosom. Having spent most of the afternoon since she’d returned from the dress fitting visiting the hotel’s spa—being buffed and primped to within an inch of her life—and then the salon where her hair had been tamed and styled into an elaborate chignon, she finally felt like a queen, instead of a serving girl playing dress-up.

  Tonight was the night.

  She stepped into the suite’s living area and spotted Raif adjusting the cuffs of his tuxedo as he stood on the suite’s balcony.

  The heat fired down to her core. She took a hitched breath as she absorbed the sight, making the bodice of the gown tighten like a corset. The suite’s view of the Eiffel Tower was magnificent as always, but it was the man—dark and impossibly dashing in the designer tuxedo and white shirt—who took her breath away.

  Clutching the jewelled evening bag that matched the gown, she cleared her throat.

  His head lifted and his gaze roamed over her skin.

  Walking towards her, his lips lifted in a strained smile. ‘You look exquisite,’ he murmured, lifting her fingers to his lips. ‘I see you put the credit card to good use.’

  ‘I only had to buy the shoes and the purse,’ she said, pleased about the bargain she’d arranged. When he was working so hard to increase the Kholadi’s investment profile in the West, what right did she have to spend his money on frivolous things? ‘The boutique was happy to loan me the gown for the evening when I told them the event we were attending.’

  His brow furrowed. ‘Why did you do this? I do not wish you to wear borrowed clothing.’

  ‘But it was very expensive, Raif. Thousands of euros. I would feel uncomfortable spending that amount of—’

  ‘Thousands of euros is nothing,’ he interrupted her. ‘Kholadi Corporation made over fifteen million euros in an hour yesterday from our investments alone.’

  She swallowed, suitably staggered by the amount. She’d known he was wealthy, but she hadn’t been prepared for how wealthy.

  ‘I think I can afford to buy the mother of my child a gown,’ he added, cupping her cheek, his eyes flaring again. But instead of being warmed by the heat, this time she felt a little overwhelmed, the compulsion to stand her ground somehow more pronounced.

  ‘Yes, but it’s not my money. Of course when the baby’s born I’d be more than happy for you to pay any support you feel is—’

  ‘Stop.’ He ran his thumb over her lips. Then pulled a small velvet box out of the pocket of his tuxedo. ‘We are not strangers, Kasia,’ he said as her gaze became fixated on the box. Was that what she thought it was? And how was she supposed to react? Because the sudden blip of panic was swiftly followed by an equally disturbing swell of emotion.

  ‘I want you to be much more than just the mother of my child.’ He flicked open the box, tugged out an exquisite diamond-studded gold engagement ring and then dropped the box on the balcony table. ‘Which is why I wish you to wear this.’

  He lifted her trembling fingers and without waiting for her reply slid it onto her ring finger.

  She stood stunned, emotion threatening to close off her air supply.

  ‘But...I haven’t agreed to marry you, Raif,’ she said, feeling sad at the thought that they were no further along than they had been in Walmsley’s office when she’d agreed to this trip. ‘It’s a beautiful ring, but I can’t wear it.’

  But when she went to drag the ring off, he clasped her fingers, preventing her.

  ‘Wait, and hear me out,’ he said, his thumbs stroking the backs of her hands in a gentle caress.

  Forced to listen or start a wrestling match, she waited to see what he had to say, the ring heavy on her finger.

  ‘An engagement ring is a symbol of intention, is it not?’ he said, his eyes guarded but so intense she felt the burn right down to her soul.

  ‘I suppose so,’ she replied.

  ‘I intend to marry you at the end of this trip, Kasia, and I want everyone to know it, which is why I wish you to wear my ring.’ His gaze coasted over the gown she’d borrowed, making the exposed skin of her arms and cleavage burn. ‘And why I wish you to purchase everything and anything you need with my money.’

  The possessiveness in his tone was so compelling it made her feel scalded, but what he was talking about was still rights and responsibility and nothing more.

  ‘But I haven’t agreed to—’

  ‘Shhh...’ Tugging her close, he kissed her, his lips silencing hers, his tongue driving into her mouth until she was breathless. When he finally released her she was more than a little dazed.

  ‘Wearing my ring does not take that choice away from you,’ he said, the fierce determination on his face only stealing more of her breath. ‘But I am a proud man, and until you have made your choice, while you are by my side I want everyone to know you—and your baby—are mine. Do you understand?’

  Oddly, she did understand. This wasn’t about taking her choices away from her, it was about him asserting his responsibilities to his child and her. And maybe she owed him this much, even if it was going to make it harder for her to make her choice. But then why should her choice be easy? He was right, a child was involved now. Not just her. So she nodded.

  ‘You will wear the ring?’ he said, finally asking instead of telling her.

  And because he had, she nodded. ‘Yes.’ Her lips quirked in an unsteady smile. ‘And thank you.’

  ‘You are welcome.’ Lifting her left hand, he kissed the ring, and the lump of emotion made it hard for her to breathe.

  But it was only as he escorted her out of the hotel into the waiting limousine, a protective arm around her waist, that it occurred to her that wearing his ring didn’t just make her feel as if she belonged to him. It made her feel owned.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  HOW CAN I want her so much, all the time? Why can I not control it?

  Raif’s fingers firmed on Kasia’s waist as she shifted away from him to talk to some minor royal, who had been flirting with his fiancée for the last twenty minutes. Kasia seemed oblivious to the young man’s intentions, or that the bastard had conducted their conversation about her research into desert agriculture almost entirely at her cleavage. Her lush, beautiful bust pressed provocatively against the purple satin as she gesticulated to make a point about Narabia’s need for greater yield and the research she was doing into how to achieve that.

  Blood surged into his groin, and Raif tensed, annoyed all over again by the effect she had on him. He had tried to be considerate these last four days, had deliberately made himself scarce—especially at night. She’d been exhausted when he’d seen her in Walmsley’s office, the bruised smudges under her eyes disturbing him. And each morning he could hear her retching violently as she had done on their morning together two weeks ago. He would have to bed her soon or risk exploding. But it was beginning to concern him, not just how little control he had over his own libido but also the toll the pregnancy seemed to be taking on her.

  She was radiant tonight—and all the more intoxicating—but he did not want to hurt her, to over-tax her. However, the more he tried to give her space, the more difficult it became to control the hunger. At least he had managed to get her to wear his ring. But as his gaze caught the flicker of the diamond on her finger, he knew it was not enough.

  He wanted to stake a legal claim. He needed to make her his wife.

  ‘Your fiancée is extremely captivating, Mr Khan.’

  Raif jerked his gaze from the valley of Kasia’s breasts to find the renowned Swiss financier he had been chatting with observing him with a knowing, masculine smile.

  Embarrassed heat scorched the back of Raif’s neck.

  The older man had caught him checking out his own fiancée while they were supposed to be having a discussion on... What had they been discussing?

  ‘And intelligent,’ the man added, as Raif tried to recall what exactly they had been talking about b
efore he had been distracted—again—like a callow teenage boy. ‘She speaks very knowledgably about your region’s agricultural challenges. She will make you an excellent wife. When is the wedding?’

  Good question.

  ‘Soon,’ he said, the frustration he was trying—and failing—to control, by avoiding his fiancée, suddenly making it hard for him to breathe.

  A waiter passed them with a tray full of colourful cocktails. He rarely drank alcohol, it wasn’t part of his culture and he preferred never to dull his senses, but he grabbed a Bloody Mary and knocked it back in one go. The salty fragrant flavour soothed his dry throat, but did nothing to sooth the hunger and impatience smouldering in his gut.

  This was madness. What was he doing dressed up in a monkey suit making small talk he couldn’t even follow and letting some over-privileged fool leer at Kasia’s breasts when all he really wanted to do was strip her out of that provocative dress and feel those full nipples swell against his tongue?

  Avoidance was not the answer.

  ‘Would you excuse me, Stefano?’ he said, dismissing the financier as he tightened his grip on Kasia’s waist and pressed his face into the sensitive skin under her earlobe.

  ‘Kasia, let’s return to the hotel,’ he murmured, as he kissed her neck and inhaled the intoxicating scent of jasmine and spice. The heat rose up his torso, but he’d had enough of caring about how primitive or uncivilised he appeared by mauling her in a public place.

  Appearances were overrated. And he was not a civilised man. Especially where this woman was concerned. So why was he trying so hard to pretend he was? She was beautiful, captivating and wildly attractive, not just her body but also her mind—he’d caught enough of her conversation with a variety of people to realise that. Stefano was right, she would make him an excellent wife and an excellent princess. So why was he waiting to seduce her?