Forged in the Desert Heat by Maisey Yates Page B

hall. He would find Ana. He needed to see if his new appearance met with her approval.
    His gut tightened at the thought of her. He’d avoided her over the past few days, and it had been easy to do so. There was a lot of work to be done, more papers to sign, people to start meeting with, scheduling to sort out. Media to speak to.
    For a moment, his hand burned as he thought of how he’d touched her while she’d shaved his face. She had curves, soft and womanly. The epitome of feminine appeal. Her face had been so close to his and it had taken every bit of his self-control not to lean in and claim her mouth.
    But then, he very well might have found himself with a blade pressed to his throat in earnest.
    He went to her room, but she wasn’t there.
    For some reason, the discovery made his chest feel tight. He walked quickly through the corridor and to the double doors that led to the courtyard.
    And there she was, a shimmer of gold in the sunlight, sitting on the edge of a fountain.
    “Ana.”
    She turned and her eyes widened, her lips rounding and parting. She’d looked at him like that after he’d shaved. A look of shocked wonder. Like someone who had been knocked over the head.
    It was quite endearing in its way.
    For his part, were he not well-practiced in hiding his responses, he was sure he would be wearing a similar expression. Seeing her out in the sun, in a white dress that left her legs and shoulders bare, pale hair shimmering in the light, was like a punch in the gut.
    Heat pooled down low, desire grabbing him by the throat and shaking him hard. In that moment, he suddenly wanted so badly to touch her skin, to see if it was as soft as he imagined, that he would have gladly sold his soul, traversed the path into hell and delivered it to the devil by hand, just for a touch. A taste.
    And it would cost his damned soul, no mistaking that.
    But then, as it was damned already, did it really matter?
    Yes. It did. Because Al Sabah mattered. His people mattered. He was beyond the point of redemption. He wasn’t seeking absolution, because there was none to be had. But he would see his people served well. That was what he intended. To lead. To lead as a servant.
    Anything else was beneath him. Any chance for more gone years ago.
    It didn’t matter how beautiful she looked with the sun shining on her, with her hair spilling over her shoulders like a river of liquid gold. It didn’t matter that her breasts were made to fit in his hands, and he was certain they were.
    A man only had so much emotional currency, and his had been spent the day of his parents’ deaths. He’d forfeited it. To better serve. To better make amends.
    And now he simply had nothing. So he would have to look, only. Look and burn.
    “You look...”
    “Civilized?”
    “Um...I don’t know if that’s the right word. You are...” She bit her lip, and he envied her that freedom. He would love to bite that lip. “Look, this whole experience is all a bit, out of time for me. I’m used to having to be appropriate and well-behaved, to...contribute and be useful. But right now I’m just going to be honest. You’re a very handsome man.” Her cheeks turned pink.
    “I’m not sure anyone has ever said that to me,” he said.
    “That surprises me.”
    “It has been a very long time since I was in a relationship where words like that were used. It has been...it’s been longer than I can remember since I told a woman she was beautiful. You are beautiful,” he said.
    “Me?”
    “Yes, you.” It was a mistake to tell her that. A mistake to speak the words, and yet, he found he couldn’t hold them back.
    “Now, there’s something I don’t hear very often.”
    “Now I have to question the sanity of every male you’ve had contact with in the past five years.”
    “Thank you,” she said. “But I’ve been engaged to Tariq for four years and as a result I haven’t dated. And we’ve mostly dated remotely so...”
    “And he has not told you how