by Kristi Gold
“I have already done both.”
“What room is he in?”
Demetria resumed her annoying pen tapping. “Room one.”
Maysa pushed off the counter then turned when she came upon an idea. “I have a favor to ask. Would you mind having Paulos prepare his eggplant moussaka to go, please?” One of Rafiq’s favorites during the time when they would eat together at the Greek restaurant. Now that she had the dinner situation solved, she had to tackle the other—whether she would personally deliver it or summon one of his guards.
She sent Maysa a suspicious look. “You do not like eggplant, Doctor.”
A faux pas of the first order. “It’s for a friend. Someone who’s in Bajul for a visit.”
“A man friend?”
A royally gorgeous man friend. “Yes, but he is nothing more than a casual acquaintance.” And that was nothing less than a colossal lie.
Demetria looked crestfallen. “I am disappointed you have yet to find a suitable companion. Perhaps you would reconsider using my matchmaking talents?”
She would rather eat eggplant. “No, thank you, and feel free to go to the restaurant now.”
“You want me to leave you alone with a stranger?”
The woman had a point. “Does he look threatening?”
“He is very tall and lean and quite handsome.” She topped off the comment with a smitten smile.
Not the answer Maysa needed. “But does he appear to be the criminal sort?”
“My instincts say he is harmless, and my instincts are never wrong.”
Except for the time Demetria had coerced her into a date with a local banker who was eight years’ Maysa’s junior and as interesting as a spreadsheet. “Then clearly there isn’t any reason why you shouldn’t leave.”
“This is true. His chart is on the door.”
“Thank you, and I’ll be by to pick up my order as soon as I’m finished here.” Maysa spun around and headed down the tiled hallway, exhaustion weighting her steps. She grabbed the chart from the holder and scanned the intake form only containing his last name as she entered the room. “What can I do for you, Mr. King?”
“I am open to all suggestions.”
She glanced up from the page to see Rafiq casually perched on the edge of the exam table, one leg slightly bent, one foot planted on the floor. He wore a tailored white shirt, black dress slacks and an expression that said he was greatly enjoying his little surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as soon as she found her voice.
“As I told your secretary, I am here for a complete physical.”
That came as no real surprise. “You have your own physician.”
“He is not presently available.”
As if she believed that. “Did Demetria recognize you?”
“She did, but I asked her not to tell you.”
That certainly explained the office manager’s odd behavior, yet it did not explain Rafiq’s lack of wisdom. “Do you realize the risk you took coming here? Anyone could have seen your armored car and—”
“I walked from the palace,” he said. “I had the guards deliver me there and then set out on foot. That served as a sufficient decoy.”
“Since it’s at least a mile from the palace to the clinic, obviously you’re not in dire straits as far as your physical health is concerned.” She would have to question his mental health for walking the streets in broad daylight.
He leveled his dark gaze directly on hers. “I do have an ache that does not seem to want to go away.”
She decided to play along, probably at her own detriment. “Where exactly is this ache?”
“I will show you.”
When Rafiq slid off the table and began unbuckling his belt, Maysa pointed at him. “Do not remove one article of clothing, Your Majesty.”
He had the gall to grin. “Then how will you treat this ache if you do not see its origin?”
Do not humor him, Maysa. She smiled in spite of herself. “Believe me, I don’t have to see it to know how to diagnose it. It could possibly be priapism, although that usually occurs when the erection remains long after sexual intercourse.”
“I see.” He rubbed his shadowed jaw and studied the ceiling before returning his attention to her. “Then how do I find relief, Doctor?”
She tossed the chart onto the counter housing the sink. “I don’t believe the answer to that requires my expertise. However, I do require an answer from you. Once again, why are you here?”
He took two slow steps toward her. “I am here to ask if you will be coming tonight.”
If he had his way, she would be—in every respect. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you asked, and I still have not decided.”
He moved as close as he could, pinning Maysa against the counter, his hands braced on either side of her. “Is there something I could do to persuade you?”
The images from the dining table incident filtered into her muddled mind. The feelings of absolute desire were still fresh, and threatening to reappear. “Give me more time, and some space.”
He straightened and slid his hands into his pockets. “I will not pressure you to make a decision, yet I will be disappointed if you leave me to while away the hours all alone, with no relief for my condition… What is it called?”
“Priapism, and you don’t actually have it. You do have the means to relieve it by taking matters into your own hands.”
That earned her another one of his deadly smiles. “And what would be the pleasure in that when you could take matters into your hands?”
Maysa was growing very hot, and very bothered. “I suggest you go back to the villa and await my decision like a good little king.”
“How will I know what that decision will be?”
“When you see me at the doorstep. Or not.”
“Then I will wait all night if I must.” His expression turned suddenly serious. “Before I leave, I need you to know I understand your hesitancy, and the reason behind it. You fear the loss of control.”
Rafiq had definitely hit the mark with that assumption. “You’re right. Losing control is something I no longer take lightly.”
“You might also believe I am being selfish.” He released a rough sigh. “Perhaps I am. Yet I have learned that life holds no assurances, and the time we have is relatively short-lived. But at the moment, time together is all we have, no matter how brief.”
And brief it would be. Once this affair was over, should it actually begin in earnest, they would go back to leading separate lives, as they had been for well over a decade.
He took her hands, turned them over and placed a tender kiss above the scar on one wrist, then the other. “If you decide to join me tonight, I will promise to give you my complete attention, and I will allow you all the control.”
He then strode out the door, while Maysa remained in the room to mull over his vow. Rafiq Mehdi wasn’t the kind of man to give up control under any circumstance. He was still the man she’d known long ago—an abiding tenderness existed beneath the steel exterior. He’d demonstrated that only moments ago. Would it be worth the risk to her emotional health if she made love with him again? Could she walk away as if nothing had ever existed between them?
She had traveled down that treacherous road before, and she had survived. She would definitely survive this time.
Maysa Barad would never allow any man—not even the man she had always loved—to break her again.
* * *
Rafiq had constantly been decisive when it came to duty. When it involved lovemaking, he was much the same. He had always taken the lead after making the first move. To relinquish that power would be completely foreign to him, yet he would for Maysa—provided she finally arrived.
She had phon
ed a half hour ago to inform him she was on her way. He had walked the floor as he’d waited, wondering if perhaps she had changed her mind. In accordance with his plan, he wore only a robe and nothing else. A distinct risk, but he had a point to prove. He also had a tenuous hold on his libido when he heard the lock trip.
Maysa entered the front door carrying a brown paper sack. She stopped short the moment her gaze fell on where he now stood, attempting to affect a calm he did not remotely feel.
She clutched the bag tighter and cleared her throat. “Obviously you’ve run out of clean clothes.”
“I still have a surplus. I decided to wait to shower until after your arrival.”
The discomfort in her expression indicated she understood what he was proposing. “I brought dinner from the Greek restaurant.”
The low-cut yellow gauze dress she wore almost brought him to his knees. “Would you be dining with me?”
She shook her head. “No. I had a late lunch.”
“As did I. You may put it away and I will reheat it later in the microwave.”
“You know how to use the microwave?”
“I have two graduate degrees. I believe I can find which button to press.” He had one particular button in mind, but it would not be found in the kitchen.
“Far be it for me to force you to eat,” she said. “I’ll put this in the refrigerator.”
“And I will retire to the shower.” Without formality or fair warning, Rafiq removed the robe and set it aside on the sofa. “You are welcome to join me.”
He expected Maysa to protest his boldness or perhaps leave out the door. Instead, she took a slow visual voyage down his body. He reacted as any man would, particularly a man in the presence of a woman he wanted with a fierceness unlike any he had known.
Her eyes widened slightly when she arrived at the destination that heralded the obvious results of her perusal. “I see your condition hasn’t improved.”
“It still requires treatment. After your hectic day, are you up for a further examination?”
“You are clearly up for it.” She raised her gaze and smiled, presenting her dimples as one more weapon in her female arsenal. “I might be persuaded to lend a hand in a while. In the meantime, I suggest you retire to the shower.”
“And you will join me?” He was quite surprised by the eagerness in his voice, and evidently so was Maysa.
“Perhaps, but first I must return a phone call from a patient.”
Her profession seemed destined to intrude on their time. “Will this require you to make a home visit?”
“I won’t know until I speak with him.”
He inclined his head and narrowed his eyes. “Is this truly a patient, or a secret lover?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s a seventy-year-old farmer with a cold. I highly doubt his wife of fifty years would approve of me taking him as a lover. Besides, one lover at a time is all I can handle.”
The promise in her words and her eyes lifted Rafiq’s spirits. “Then I shall be in the shower, awaiting your care.”
Gathering his strength, Rafiq turned away from Maysa, though he sincerely wanted to take her down on the sofa and dispense with further delay, as well as her clothing. He crossed the expansive master bedroom and entered the bath that was truly fit for a king. The stone shower was equally large, perhaps large enough for five people, and well appointed. He depressed the control on the wall that slid the ceiling open to reveal open air and a host of stars. He then set the temperature and started the water for two of the four showerheads.
After stepping beneath the spray, he braced both hands on the tiled walls and attempted to regain some control. If he failed, Maysa’s examination would be over before it had begun. If she had not decided to take up with the farmer and leave him behind. He decided to bathe and hope for the best.
When several minutes had passed, and he was thoroughly clean and somewhat composed, he began to believe Maysa had changed her mind. Perhaps she had…
“The doctor has arrived.”
The sound of her voice drew his attention to the shower’s opening. The sight of her standing there, without any clothing and seemingly relaxed, shattered his calm into a million shards of human glass. He had never seen Maysa completely nude, even in their youth when their covert meetings had been conducted in darkness. The golden cast of the overhead light illuminated each detail, from the fullness of her breasts capped with light brown nipples, the indentation of her waist, the curve of her hips and the shading between her thighs.
When she stepped into the shower, he grew painfully hard and extremely aware that he would have to develop superhuman strength in the next few moments.
Maysa moved beneath the spray opposite him and closed her eyes as the water flowed over her. After Rafiq pushed aside the showerhead above him to gain a better view, his anticipation heightened while he watched her bathe. He followed the movement of her hands as she washed her breasts, then her abdomen and lower still. He wanted to go to her, touch her, kiss the moisture from her body one blessed inch at a time. Yet he had promised to relinquish his control. Therefore he had no choice but to wait until she came to him.
She rinsed the soap from her body, slicked back her long hair and finally approached him. But when he reached for her, she took a step back. “Before we continue, I need to outline some rules.”
He could not conceal his frustration. “More rules?”
“For now,” she said. “First, do not touch me until I give you permission.”
“That is not acceptable—”
She held up a hand to silence him. “Don’t forget that I am in control, as you ordained.”
He had not forgotten, though he had begun to regret it. “Continue.”
“Next, you cannot kiss me, at least for the time being.”
He was quickly taking exception to her rules, yet he knew better than to argue. “All right. Is there anything else I might do to accommodate you?”
“Yes.” She closed the space between them and reached up to move the spray over them. “Enjoy being stripped of your control.”
Her eyes seemed alight with fire as she placed her hands on his chest, pausing to touch his nipples with deft fingertips. He sucked in a deep breath when she drew a path down his belly. He clenched his jaw tightly when she circled his navel, and tighter still when she raked her nails lightly down his thighs.
She seemed to be purposefully avoiding his erection, or perhaps bent on torturing him until he begged her. She undeniably had torture in mind, he realized, when she lowered herself onto her knees. The minute she took him into her mouth, he began the battle to remain in control of his body, the only control he still retained.
When she used her tongue like a feather, from tip to shaft, Rafiq focused on trivial details in an effort to prolong the experience—his least favorite foods, his agenda for the next council meeting, the extreme heat in August. He even attempted to recall the words to the Petrarca poem Elena had forced him to memorize. Nothing worked as a sufficient distraction, until he ventured a glance at Maysa kneeling before him. Seeing her there, appearing subservient, gave him pause, as well as a temporary respite from the need for gratification.
He broke a rule by lifting her to her feet, immediately earning him a look of displeasure. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, sounding unsure.
“You were doing everything right, and it took great effort for me to stop you.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because you should never be on your knees before any man.” Least of all him—a man who could give her nothing more than temporary pleasure.
“But you didn’t force me on my knees, Rafiq. There is a difference.”
“Still, I wish to see your eyes when you touch me.”
Her smile reappeared, soft and sensual. “Let�
��s see how long you can keep them open when I continue.”
And continue she did, using her hands as effectively as she had her mouth. She increased the cadence of her strokes, making it difficult for Rafiq to draw a breath, or to keep his eyes open. In a matter of moments, he would lose both the battle and the war. He would lose the opportunity to carry her to the bed and bury himself inside her.
“Stop.” The demand echoed in the shower like a gunshot.
“No,” she replied, then sent a pointed look at his hand circling her wrist.
He reluctantly released her and prepared to plead his case. “If you continue, I am in grave danger of—”
“I know. That is my intention.”
She had turned the tables on him, implementing her own plan that would surely drive him to the brink of pleasurable insanity. Yet she was empowered, and he was powerless. Powerless to stop her determined, thorough touching. Powerless to hold out any longer when she brought her lips to his ear and whispered, “Be grateful you are surrendering your control to a physician.”
And without warning, she pressed her free hand between his legs at the same time the climax crashed down on him with the force of an explosion. He tipped his head back against the wall as a harsh, guttural moan slipped out of his mouth. The orgasm continued longer than any he had experienced before, and the impact almost buckled his knees. By the time the sensations began to wane, he realized his heart was beating dangerously fast.
He finally opened his eyes to Maysa, who seemed very proud of her accomplishment. “What did you do to me?” he grated out.
She streamed a fingertip along his jaw. “Aside from giving you the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced?”
“How did you do it?”
“I happen to know a certain trigger point that reportedly increases a man’s pleasure. I’ve never tried it before, but I assume it worked.”
“Had it worked any better, I would be dead.”
She laid her cheek on the left side of his chest before returning her gaze back to his. “Your heart is still beating strongly, so I do believe you will live.”