Healing the Sheikh's Heart by Annie O'Neil

Author:Annie O'Neil [O'Neil, Annie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2017-06-14T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

AS DAWN BROKE Idris squinted against the sun’s glory while it crested the mountain peaks encircling the valley and seaside cove where their camp lay. He stretched and pushed himself up and out of the tangle of bedsheets that hadn’t seen much sleep, elbows coming to rest on his knees, fingers templing, thumbs pressing into his brow as he sat in a contemplative silence he hoped would bring some peace.

Restlessness won out. He tugged on a pair of swimming trunks hoping a long swim could achieve what his normally very controlled mind could not. He slipped his feet into his sandals, aligning the tan lines with the bands, suddenly appreciating how much he had been in “holiday” mode for the past few days. Traveling with Robyn and his daughter had been something he hadn’t experienced for a while. Years, in fact. It had been...fun.

Very much like the childhood his parents had ensured he’d had. Not at all similar to the one he afforded Amira.

He rounded the corner of his three-sided tent only to find a very anxious-looking Robyn nibbling away on her tidy manicure, twisting her slender body this way and that in the loose confines of a light cotton dress. The spaghetti string straps gave a clear view of her slender shoulders and the soft swoop and curve toward her breasts. No brassiere or bikini straps, just two triangles of cloth forming an eye-catching V in the center of her décolletage.

The traditional clothing she’d been wearing had never afforded him so much... Robyn...and there was no denying he liked what he saw. She turned and noticed him watching.

Unable to look away, he shifted his gaze along the soft arc of her breasts, her nipples tightening against the thin cotton as if he had reached out and caressed them between a finger and thumb or given them a swift lick with his tongue. A shot of desire slammed through him as the possibilities developed and grew. There was no one around at this hour. His tent was bathed in the apricot and gold light only a Da’harian sunrise could elicit. His fingers twitched, each hand longing to play its part in separating Robyn from her dress. Not by the gentle slipping of one strap and then the next in a slow, luxurious unveiling, but with a sharp, brusque rent of the flimsy fabric so that he could see all of her at once, then decide slowly, luxuriously, where and how he would begin to touch and caress her naked body.

He surprised himself by taking a step forward. Just as quickly he ground his heels into the sand and his jaw into a tight clench, mind dictating to matter that he needed—he must—keep his primal response to her in check.

“You seem to have been lying in wait. I can only assume it was for me?”

Idris knew he sounded more growly than he would have liked, but he didn’t like losing control and the unbidden jags of longing that just looking at Robyn unleashed in him needed to be tamed.

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