Jennifer Lewis - The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition - The Desert Prince / The Playboy's Proposition

“So true!” A smile tugged at his bold, sensual mouth. “No topic was off-limits.”

“Well, except that you were going to take off and marry someone else.”

The words fell from her lips, the accusation she’d never been bold enough to make. She was so shocked and hurt, at first. When they met again she was so surprised and delighted by their renewed connection that she didn’t want to bring up the painful past.

Salim frowned. “You’re right. I did avoid the subject of my future. I didn’t like to think about it myself.” His gaze drifted over her face, to her neck, which flushed under his attention. “And why would I, when it meant losing you?”

They hadn’t talked much about his family at all. She’d assumed he didn’t want to be reminded of the home that was so far away he only saw it once or twice a year.

He’d spent several weekends at her mom and dad’s house and stayed with them once over spring break. Her parents had thought him sweet and funny. Being professors they were used to international students, many of whom stayed and settled in the States. They didn’t think anything of her boyfriend being from another country.

It hadn’t occurred to any of them that he had an entirely different life mapped out for him, thousands of miles away.

One that didn’t, and never would, include Celia.

Salim’s penetrating gaze locked onto hers. The flush rose over her face, and she let out a quick breath. “It might have been easier if I was prepared.”

“How do you prepare to end a relationship?” He frowned. “I couldn’t prepare for it myself.”

“At least you knew it was coming.”

Salim closed his eyes for a split second. When he opened them they were dark as a starless night. “It wasn’t easy for me.”

He leaned forward, holding her attention with laser intensity. “That was, and remains, the worst day of my entire life.”

“Mine, too.” The words rushed from her mouth before she could stop them.

He’d seemed so cold and distant, like he didn’t care. Like he’d changed into a different person overnight. One who’d never cared for her at all, let alone loved her.

She wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from such a brutal rejection of all her affections. Such a firm and thorough crushing of all her hopes and dreams.

Maybe she hadn’t recovered? She’d dated again, but never for long. She’d never married.

Now, suddenly everything was different.

He’d missed her.

He’d never forgotten her.

Memories of her, and their relationship, had ruined his marriage.

Shock—and something else—unfurled deep inside her.

Was this why he cut off their renewed affair four years ago? Because it had meant more to him than he was willing to admit?

Questions raced around Celia’s mind. Questions about a Salim who’d been hidden from her.

A Salim who’d missed her and who still loved her and who might.

“Let’s go.” Salim swept up from the table without waiting for her reaction.

Celia rose, accidentally clattering her knife against her plate and almost knocking over her chair. Her heart pounded beneath her elegant silk dress and her pulse skittered beneath her bangles as she took his arm and swept out of the room on a tide of fierce and unexpected emotion.

Guests glanced up at them, curious, but she couldn’t summon even a polite smile to greet them. She couldn’t do anything except manage—just barely—to put one foot in front of the other.

They flew across the sparkling atrium and out through a dark arch toward the beach. Salim marched with such speed and concentration that no one even dared approach him, let alone speak. It was all Celia could do to keep up in her rustling dress and delicate slippers.

They stepped through the archway and walked down some steps to the sand. Warm evening air brushed her face like a breath. They hadn’t even left the pool of light flooding from the atrium when Salim turned, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her with furious passion.

Celia melted into his kiss, rushed into it, her whole body cleaving to his, pressing against him from head to toe. Her hands fisted into his shirt and her nipples hardened against his powerful chest.

Salim’s urgent fingers roamed into her elaborate hairstyle as he pulled her face to his and kissed her with breathless abandon.

“Oh, Celia,” he murmured, when their lips finally parted for a second. “I tried to push you out of my mind.” His words rang with pain, and tailed off as he crushed his mouth over hers again, a groan of relief shuddering through him.

Tears sprang to Celia’s eyes. Fierce emotion threatened to overwhelm her. “Me, too,” she breathed into his ear, while he layered hot kisses along her neck.

She’d fallen so easily into his arms four years ago, despite how he’d hurt her. She couldn’t help it. The connection between them was too strong to resist.

He grabbed her hand. “Come with me.” He led her down to the beach, where she pulled off her hard-to-run-in slippers and let the cool sand welcome her toes. “My private apartment.” He gestured to a small peninsula jutting out into the ocean’s gentle waves. An elegant white building with typical Omani crenelations along the roofline—like a medieval castle in miniature—perched just over the rippling surf. Light illuminated a narrow arched window.

He ran so fast she could barely keep up.

Celia didn’t protest. She couldn’t even think, let alone talk.

He pushed open a carved door and ushered her inside. A lamp glowed in a corner, illuminating a simple, masculine space with bare white walls and a smooth stone floor. An ornate silver coffeepot glowed on a shelf, the only decoration besides the high arched windows shaded by carved wood screens.

Celia drank in the details, maybe because she’d been starved of information about Salim for so long. She’d wondered where he lived, and how, without her all this time.

He led her through a polished door in the far wall into what was obviously his bedroom.

A large white bed filled the center of the octagonal room. Tall windows punctuated each wall, providing slivers of ocean view where the moon danced over shimmering black water. Otherwise the space was ascetic as a monk’s cell.

The space of a man who lived alone, with no woman in his life.

Salim closed the door behind her and slid his arms around her, muscles shuddering with urgency. His fingers roved over her back through the thin silk of her dress. He kissed her again and again, until her fingers plucked at his shirt buttons in thoughtless desperation.

“I missed you,” his breath was hot on her neck. “Seeing you again four years ago only made it worse. I’ve craved you, wished for you.”

Salim’s blood hummed with tension so thick he felt he might explode.

He never forgot her. Not for want of trying. He’d done everything he could think of to expunge her from his body and soul.

He’d poured himself into his work, spent his time building an empire and filling it with people as passionate as himself.

But he never forgot Celia.

He’d had to try all over again after their fateful meeting in Manhattan. The very last person he’d thought to see there, she almost knocked him flat with her beauty and poise. He’d been helpless in the glow of her smile, and the warm greeting she’d offered, letting him know the past was gone and forgotten.

And he’d been forced to start over from scratch, trying to forget her again.

“It feels like heaven being here with you.”

His words echoed off the walls, painfully true, as he touched her. She was so perfect, so precious, so totally unchanged, like time had captured her in amber and saved her for him, despite all his mistakes.