by Kristi Gold
Six
Jamie really wanted to tear his clothes off.
Not an appropriate thing to do considering they were sitting at the dinner table with Alima nearby in the kitchen. But having spent the afternoon reading “the book,” complete with colored illustrations, the images still danced around in her head—images of Ben and lovemaking. Although the book was tastefully written, the pictures and text left nothing to the imagination. Especially Jamie’s imagination, which at the moment was working overtime.
Alima scurried into the dining room with a platter full of fragrant meat, vegetables and pastries.
“What is the occasion, Alima?” Ben asked, the first words he’d spoken since they’d sat down.
She set the platter in front of Jamie and began piling the fare onto Jamie’s plate. “I do not understand.”
“First you bring us the oyster stew, and now this.” He gestured toward the platter. “You normally do not serve máaza unless it is a special event. And if you do not quit filling Miss Morris’s plate, there will be none left for me.”
Alima nodded and began serving Ben his food. “It is in honor of our guest.” She raised her eyes to Jamie who saw a helping of amusement there as big as the mountain of food on her plate.
“I see.” Ben raised his glass of wine and tipped it toward Jamie. “To our guest.”
Jamie clinked her own glass against his in a toast. “And to my very accommodating host.” Who she hoped would be much more accommodating as the evening progressed.
Sipping the wine slowly, Ben regarded her with his steel-colored eyes, but she couldn’t begin to read what he was thinking. “Is there anything else you wish from Alima?”
“Not that I can think of. I have everything I need.” At least from Alima.
Ben dismissed the housekeeper with a sweep of his hand and the woman quickly left. He took his gaze from Jamie and centered it on the wineglass. “Did you have a pleasant day?”
Jamie wanted to laugh. He had no idea how pleasant her day had been. He should, considering the episode on the couch. “It was okay. After you ran off, it was just the usual, watching a little TV, that sort of thing.” Thinking about what you did to me on the sofa. Reading an Arabian sex manual.
“I have made arrangements with your landlord,” he said without looking at her. “He has agreed to keep your apartment available for you. I have hired several men to watch over it should Klimt happen to return.”
“Great.” She didn’t want to think about her apartment or the fact that a maniac was still on the loose. All she could consider was Ben sitting before her, dressed in his casual clothes, his jaw shaded with evening whiskers, looking much too sexy to ignore.
Time for plan A, Jamie decided. Getting Ben alone. “After dinner, do you mind if we talk a while before I go to bed?”
He raised his eyes from the glass to her. “Something important?”
“Yes, I guess you could say that.” Important to her, anyway.
“Shall we discuss it now?”
“No. Later. After Alima goes to bed.”
“As you wish. I have something important to discuss with you as well.”
Did she dare hope that he’d changed his mind? Could he possibly want to show her that he did want her? How silly for her to consider that. Nothing had changed in a matter of hours, at least not with Ben and his almighty conviction. Obviously she had her work cut out for her tonight.
After they had dined in silence, Alima cleared the plates while Jamie joined Ben in the living room. This time he took the huge leather lounge chair, leaving Jamie alone on the nearby sofa.
He might as well have erected a brick wall, Jamie thought. This was going to be harder than she’d imagined.
A few minutes of awkward silence passed before she asked, “What did you want to discuss with me?”
Ben rubbed large fingertips up and down the arm of the chair, bringing to mind his touch, the way he had reduced her into a pool of need with his sturdy fingers. “Klimt has been seen in this vicinity.”
Jamie’s eyes snapped up from Ben’s hands to meet his glance. “How close was he?”
“At the ranch adjacent to Matthew Walker’s, which is next to mine.”
Too close for Jamie’s comfort. “Did someone call the police?”
“I told you that we cannot involve the police. If we do, Klimt will not lead us to what we’re looking for.”
“Oh. The something.”
“Yes, and I have made sure my men are on guard.”
An idea came to her, sharp and clear even if she hadn’t planned it. “I know I’d feel much better with you in my room.”
“Perhaps that would be a good idea.”
This was too easy. “I’d appreciate it.”
“I will move the chair by the window.”
He wanted to sleep in the chair? A chair could prove to be a challenge. Did they mention chairs in the book? “Okay. If that’s what you want. But we have slept together before and—”
Ben’s frown stopped Jamie in mid sentence. She looked from Ben to find Alima standing only a few feet away.
“If you do not need me, I shall retire for the evening,” Alima said.
Ben checked his watch. “It is only 8:00 p.m. Are you not feeling well?”
Alima kneaded her hands, looking a bit flustered. “No, Prince Hasim, I am simply tired. I shall go to my room immediately.” She turned to Jamie. “Good evening, Miss Morris. Should you require anything through the night, please do not hesitate to summon me. But remember that I go to sleep with my music playing in my ears, so I do not hear a sound until I remove my ear phones much later.”
With that, she turned and left the room. Left Jamie with her mouth gaping open and a smile that wanted to surface. Alima proved to Jamie once again that she was a wise woman. She knew exactly what Jamie intended for Ben, and she had all but given her permission.
Jamie almost laughed at Alima’s obvious matchmaking attempts, but all humor died when she saw Ben’s serious gaze. “Do you know what is wrong with her?” he asked.
“Wrong? No. She looks fine to me.” Time for a subject change. “As I was saying, Ben, you don’t have to sleep in the chair. You can stay on your side of the bed, and I’ll stay on mine.” Which didn’t mean she couldn’t accidentally roll his way, catching him off guard.
“That would not be advisable.”
Darn his stubbornness. “You don’t have to worry about me attacking you in your sleep.” She would make sure he was still awake before she made her move.
“I am not worried about you.” His dark eyes burned into her, causing Jamie to shiver. “It would be best if I keep my distance.”
Jamie shrugged and pretended indifference. Time to institute plan B. “Suit yourself. But before we continue this conversation, I want to take a quick shower and get ready for bed. Then we can talk some more.”
“All right. I shall do the same, and I will be waiting here for you when you return from your bath.”
They stood at the same time and although they remained several feet apart, tension hung thick in the air. Before Jamie gave everything over to impulse, she turned and headed to the bathroom.
Once inside, she slipped off her clothes and released a ragged breath. Every inch of her body responded when she thought about what she planned to do next. Would she really have the courage to seduce him again? Would he stop her, or worse still, turn away? And if she were successful, would she be strong enough to resist the emotional entanglement already threatening her heart?
No doubt about it, with each day that passed came another reason to like him. His honor and honesty. His overt sensuality. Two days ago, she’d managed to unveil more of the man beneath the prince, and she admired what she had discovered—a born protector with a will as strong as reinforced steel and a vulnerability he tried to hide behind a tough facade. But she was beginning to see that vulnerability—that chink in his armor—more and more. She wanted to know everything about the man she had come to a
dmire. The man she could easily love.
She shook her head, trying to shake the cobwebs from her common sense. No, no, no! She refused to fall in love with him. Ever.
Just short of entering the shower, she caught sight of the vanity counter and halted. Laid out next to the sink was a gown much like the one she’d worn the first day of her arrival. But this one was a pale peach color and twice as sheer. Next to it sat a bottle of pink-tinted liquid.
Making her way to the sink, Jamie picked up the bottle. She flipped open the lid and sniffed, then placed a few drops in her palm. Oil. Strawberry-scented oil. She held the bottle up and studied the unreadable label. Unreadable to someone who didn’t know a scrap of Arabic.
Alima the Headphoned Housekeeper playing match-maker.
The woman had made herself Jamie’s partner in crime. Who else would leave instruments of seduction? Certainly not Ben. He wouldn’t even agree to get in bed with her, much less provide her with a naughty nightie and a bottle of fruity oil.
This time Jamie did laugh, allowing her mirth to bubble over. She felt exhilarated, alive and prepared for whatever challenge Ben had in store for her.
Poor Ben. He had no idea what she intended, but he would, and soon. Very soon.
Ben had no idea what Jamie Morris was up to, but he had his suspicions. Every move she had made, every word she had spoken, made him recognize how very hard she would be to resist. A cold shower had done nothing to squelch his desire for her, not that he believed it would, even though many extolled the virtues of icy water in enabling a man to forget his lust. Rubbish, as his mother would say.
Settling back on the couch, Ben waited for Jamie, afraid to face her, excited by that prospect. He silently prayed she would dress appropriately and not descend upon him wearing the nightshirt that barely disguised her feminine charms.
A few moments later, Ben sighed with relief, thankful that Jamie had reentered the room wearing a heavy robe. Yet, even encased in red velvet, he could still imagine the woman beneath. Every curve, every crevice. The thoughts would surely be the death of him.
Averting his gaze from the gaping bodice of the robe, he said, “I presume you enjoyed your bath since you have been gone for almost an hour.”
Smiling, she continued to stand, one hand hidden away in the robe’s pocket. “Yes, it was nice. I enjoy a long bath. It clears the mind and relaxes the body, so to speak.” She took a few steps forward until she was standing above him. “How was yours?”
Every blessed thought left his brain when soft feminine smells filtered into his nostrils. “How was my what?”
“Your shower. I assume you took one since your hair’s wet. Although I wonder, since you still have on your jeans.”
Jeans that grew tighter with each coy look she sent him. “Yes, I showered. I felt it appropriate that I remain in most of my clothes.” And he cursed the fact he had not put on his shirt. Perhaps his subconscious was setting him up to fail. Or testing his strength.
With a devilish smile, Jamie slipped the robe from her shoulders, revealing everything to him through the film of a sheer gown—her round luscious breasts, the shadow between her thighs, the curve of her hips. But before he had time to savor the sight, she was on her knees before him, staring up at him, her emerald eyes alight with desire. He had seen that look earlier, and there was no mistaking it now.
“Jamie,” he said, caution in his tone. “I beg you to consider what you are about to do.”
She ran a slender finger up his thigh. “Relax, will you? I just thought you looked a little worried during dinner. A little uptight. I’m here to help. Your wish is my command.”
He wished she would leave him to his misery. How could he relax when she was so very close, only partially dressed, looking like temptation incarnate? “I am fine,” he said, his jaw tight, his frame rigid, his belly clenched, belying his conviction.
“Yeah, right. And I’m Marilyn Monroe.”
Inching forward on her knees, Jamie slid both palms up his thighs and parted his legs, then moved between them. Ben clawed his way back to reality. He must stop her now, before he could not.
“Jamie, I do not think—”
She slid her hands further up his thighs and brushed a fingertip over his groin. “For once, would you just stop thinking, Ben? Just try to feel. Enjoy the moment.”
Rising farther up on her knees, she feathered kisses along his ear, his neck, then lower still across his bare chest. Ben grasped the sides of her head, intending to pull her away. But as if he had lost his will to fight, he followed her movements as she laved her tongue across his nipple, much in the same way he had done to her earlier that afternoon.
Coherent thought ceased for a time until Ben’s self-control took over. He lifted her face. “Jamie, we have been through this. We cannot do this.”
She smiled. “There’s no ‘we’ involved at the moment. I’m doing this. Just me, and all you have to do is sit back and take pleasure in it. That’s all I’m asking of you.”
Dipping her hand into the pocket of the robe, she withdrew a bottle of liquid and placed several small drops in her palm, then tossed the bottle aside. With long slender fingers, she worked the oil up over his shoulders, across his chest to his abdomen, drawn tight against the sensual assault. All the while Ben grasped the arms of the chair to keep from touching her. Keep from grabbing her up and kissing the life out of her. Keep from carrying her to his bed.
If she wanted to play this game, he would let her for the time being. As long as he remembered not to let things progress beyond the point of no return. Yet, at the moment, the feel of her delicate hands stroking his body robbed him of his resolve to stop her.
“Ben,” she whispered against his belly, then washed her tongue in his navel.
Give me strength.
His plea went unheeded as Jamie released the snap on his jeans. His erection strained against the denim and he longed for the freedom that only Jamie could give him. But at what cost?
Before he could consider what she was doing, she had his fly completely open. He managed a smile when she looked up at him, shock in her expression. Perhaps her fear would stop her as nothing he could say would.
Her eyes widened. “You don’t have anything on underneath these, do you?”
“I find that unnecessary under the circumstance, do you not agree?”
“Oh.” She looked down again as if uncertain what to do next.
If she had never experienced the sight of a man aroused, perhaps that would convince her she was playing with fire. That consideration, and the fact Ben could no longer stand the torment, led him to slip the denim down his hips, revealing everything to her eyes. Blessed freedom at last.
Jamie continued to stare and repeated, “Oh.”
“Does my body frighten you, Jamie?”
She shook her head and ran a fragile finger down the length of his shaft, sending tremors coursing throughout his entire being. She touched him again, this time with oil-slick palms, tentatively at first, then more boldly. She had regained her composure while Ben’s slipped farther away with every touch.
Without removing her hands, she raised her eyes to him and said, “Does this please you, Sheikh Rassad?”
He could not remember the last time he had been so pleased, or so achingly hard from wanting a woman. “Yes. It pleases me very much.”
“What else would please you?”
He clung to his last shred of will. “For you to stop this torture before it is too late.”
“I don’t want to stop. I want to return the favor for what you did for me earlier today.”
Exactly what he feared. “That is not necessary.”
“Oh, I think it is.”
Jamie Morris was not an innocent, that much Ben decided before his thoughts began to slip away. Considering the way she touched him, caressed him with fine silken strokes, obviously someone had taught her well, and he hated that someone, although he had no idea who he might be. Hated him because he had been t
he first man to touch Jamie, and Ben had mistakenly assumed he would be her first.
At the moment, Ben could not consider her with another man, doing this to another man. He was on the brink of totally losing control, but he would not allow it to happen here. And when she lowered her head as if to take him into her mouth, resistance was no longer an option.
With an animal groan, he moved her aside and stood to step out of his jeans, unable to contain his overpowering desire for her. Damn the consequences. He needed to have her—be inside her—as much as he needed air to breathe.
She gave a little squeak of protest when he scooped her up in his arms. “Ben, I’m not done yet.”
“Oh yes, you are most certainly done,” he whispered as he passed through the living room toward the other side of the house. Toward his bed and the promise of pleasure. Toward the point of no return. “But I am only beginning.”
Jamie now realized what it truly meant to be swept away by an Arabian knight. Engulfed in Ben’s strong arms and heady male essence, she rested against his hair-covered chest where the thrum of his heart beat out an erratic rhythm against her cheek.
She was breathless, thrilled and a tiny bit afraid of what she had unleashed in Ben.
He entered the room and kicked the door closed behind them, then brought her down on the bed in his arms. Ben’s arousal pressed against her belly, robbing her of her voice. Muted light filtered in from the adjoining bathroom, allowing her to make out the fire in his dark eyes.
“Do you know what you have done, Jamie?” he said.
She had her suspicions. “I’ve finally managed to see your bedroom again.” A weak attempt at humor, Jamie decided, especially when she noticed Ben wasn’t smiling.
He pushed the hair from her forehead and framed her face in his palms. “I believe you underestimate your power. Tell me now, while you still have the opportunity, if you wish to go forward. If you are uncertain, I will let you leave. But if you do not stop me, then I promise I will see this through.”
Jamie didn’t hesitate for a moment. “I want this, Ben. I have for a while now.”