by Gail Dayton
Ellen was on fire. Her whole, entire body burned, head to toe, front to back, inside and out. Every blood cell in every capillary in every tiny inch of Ellen blazed merrily away, and every bit of it was Rudi's fault.
The man was seduction made flesh, and now Mr. Temptation Personified had his hands on her bottom.
Why had she bothered to leave her panties on? They made no difference whatsoever. She could feel the warm texture of his palms right through the thin fabric. As he massaged the soreness away, which surely had not been so bad, the flames skittered around inside her. They collected in her secret places, where they burned higher, wilder.
"May I—?" Rudi's voice went rough and ragged, breaking off before he finished.
"What?" She sounded as ragged as he. If they had that in common, did they have the fires in common, too?
He answered without words, his fingers sliding beneath the elastic of her panties to set off new conflagrations everywhere he touched. Ellen lifted her hips, her good sense utterly burned away. Consequences be damned. She wanted this.
Rudi whisked the useless garment away and cupped her bottom in both his hands. Over the pounding of her heart, Ellen could hear the rasp of Rudi's breath, and she willed his hands to move, to touch her more, to give her the magic she knew they possessed.
He cleared his throat. "What is it you wish of me, my owner? To drive me mad? I have sworn to please you, but I am only a man, made of flesh and blood. I am not a stone."
His hands trembled where they touched her, and yet they did not move, other than a gentle squeeze, as if he still attempted his massage. Rudi spoke of desire, yet he did not act on it. Ellen knew he waited for her decision.
"What do you want me to do?" He sounded almost desperate.
She lifted her head and looked at him over her shoulder. His eyes blazed with dark fire as they locked on hers. No wonder she burned. But she couldn't accuse him of arson, not when she'd been dry fuel to his flame, ready to go up at the first touch.
"Please me," she said, turning on her side and reaching out with one hand. "Make me feel good. Make love to me."
Rudi took her hand and let her draw him alongside, a smile curving his beautiful lips. "That is a terrifying command to give a man. What if I fail? What if I can merely make you feel 'not so bad'?"
Ellen popped the snaps on the shirt he still wore, feeling underdressed, and set her hand on his sleek, bare chest. "Then you'll just have to try again, won't you?"
He laughed. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, the tingle acting like gasoline on those flames. He put her hand back on his chest, wriggled out of his shirt and sent it flying. He picked up her bra where it lay half on Ellen and half on the bed and sent it after his shirt. Then he stopped.
Rudi looked at her, his gaze flashing from her head to her toes and back. Then he urged her over onto her back, and he looked again, slowly. His fingers brushed where he looked, light as a breeze whispering over her skin.
Ellen had been ogled before. She had been looked at with greedy eyes, hungry eyes, envious eyes. Sometimes—once or twice—she had even been naked. She had never had any man look at her like this, as if she was a gift from God, something infinitely precious, to be admired and cherished. There was that word again. Cherished. It was ridiculous, but that was the way Rudi made her feel.
As his hand still swept featherlight over her shoulders, past the side of her breast, over her stomach, touching her everywhere but where she most wanted it, Rudi bent over her. He kissed her lips, a sweet, gentle touch. But Ellen was way past gentle.
Clasping his head between her hands so he couldn't escape, she opened her mouth and invited him to plunder with a quick, hard sweep of her tongue. Rudi didn't need a second invitation. He rolled half on top of her, his shoulders pressing her into the bed as his tongue plunged deep into her mouth and his hand burrowed to cup her bottom. He thrust a jeans-clad leg between hers and pulled her in tight.
He didn't leave much room for Ellen to go hunting for a zipper, but she found it. She had it halfway down before he caught her hand, stopping her.
"Wait." He panted, his forehead resting on hers, his eyes squeezed tight shut. "Do not do that."
Ellen tipped her face up and kissed the end of his nose. "Aren't you forgetting something, slave boy?" she teased.
Rudi groaned. He took two deep breaths and eased her hand away before attempting to speak. "You asked me to make you feel good. And I will, but—I said before, I am only a man. You make me so mad with desire—" He broke off to breathe again.
His words made Ellen a little crazy, too. He wanted her, worse than anyone she'd ever seen. But he was fighting like a demon against his own desires in order to give her what she wanted.
"Please," he said. "If you touch me there, I cannot do as you bid me do. Help me in this one thing."
"Oh, Rudi." Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.
She'd never heard anything so wonderful, that this strong, proud man would ask for her help at this moment. She cupped his face in her hands, the sandpaper roughness sweet against her palms, and she looked at him. She looked so deep into his dark eyes, she thought she could see his soul looking back at her. Ellen kissed him.
The minute their lips touched, the flames leapt up again, higher than before, consuming her as they burned. Rudi's hand lay flat against her stomach, warm and heavy. Slowly, so slowly she wanted to scream, his hand moved lower. Her hips rose, acting almost on their own, wanting him to hurry. But he refused.
He kissed his way down her neck, leaving a moist, chill snail trail of Rudi-kisses where he passed. He circled her breasts with those kisses, teasing her with them, the way he teased her below, combing his fingers through her crisp hair.
When she thought she would either scream or pass out, Rudi's mouth closed over the peak of one breast at the same moment his fingers found her hidden nub, and she did scream. Ellen came up off the bed with the explosion. The shocks went through her for eternal minutes as Rudi held her tight, whispering Arabic nothings she hoped were as sweet as they sounded.
Though more than she'd ever known in her life, it still wasn't enough, wasn't all she knew Rudi could give her. She pushed him back, grabbing the waist of his jeans and peeling them off as he hurriedly lowered the zipper the rest of the way. When he was naked, she paused to look at him where he stood beside the bed, glorying in the way he fit together, like that statue of David she'd seen in pictures. Thank goodness he was flesh and blood, rather than stone. Marble was pretty, but not near as much fun.
Ellen opened her arms. "Come here, you."
Rudi smiled and made his traditional obeisance. "At your command, zahra."
He paused to retrieve protection, and fit himself into the space she'd made for him, in the circle of her arms and legs, his belly burning against her heat.
He kissed her, deep and passion filled, but this kiss was tender at the same time, and heart-stoppingly sweet. When he ended the kiss, Rudi lifted his head and looked at her, cradling her face between his long-fingered hands. "Are you sure?" he asked.
Such a stupid question didn't deserve an answer. Ellen reached between their bodies, Rudi rising onto his knees to allow her access, and she guided him to her entrance. She locked her ankles behind his back, but before she could tighten them, he surged into her with one powerful thrust.
She was lost, and only Rudi could find her. She was blind, and deaf, oblivious to everything but the man in her arms and the sensations he created as he drove into her. Ellen met each stroke eagerly, feeling the flames leap higher with each one. His muscles bunched and moved under her hands, taut with the effort of his passion. Her cries echoed his, until with a shout, her world came apart again. She heard Rudi's shout a fraction of a second later, felt his body throb and shudder as he reached the same pinnacle. Ellen drifted back to earth, nothing more than white flakes of ash in the breeze.
He must have dozed. Or perhaps his spirit had simply left his body. Rudi was not certain which, t
hough when he regained his senses, he discovered that he had at least moved to one side so that his weight did not crush Ellen.
Several minutes more passed before he realized what had roused him. A smell, sharp and acrid.
"Smoke!" He scrambled from the bed and rushed into the kitchen to discover the thing he smelled wisping from the edges of the oven. When he opened the door, smoke boiled out, setting the alarm to shrieking.
Ellen appeared in the bedroom doorway, naked, her gun in her hand. "Get down," she ordered.
"It is our dinner." Rudi fanned the smoke away. "Not terrorists." He put on the protective glove and pulled the burned food from the oven as Ellen came to join him.
"Where's the alarm?" she asked.
Rudi pointed to the thing directly overhead, though she surely could have found it by the sound alone. As he set the pan of food on the counter and closed the oven, Ellen pulled a chair over, climbed up on it and pressed the button, switching off the alarm. Then they looked at each other.
Ellen laughed first. "You know, the first time I saw you wearing that oven mitt, I thought you looked awfully cute. But this look is much, much better."
Only then did Rudi realize that the glove was the only garment he wore. He blessed their dinner for burning, for easing that first awkward afterward. He put his gloved arm around her, lifting her off the chair and sliding her down his body to the floor.
"Your attire is also very becoming." He held up her hand with the pistol. "Is this the latest Paris accessory for such occasions?"
She stuck her tongue out at him. Then her face went solemn. "For bodyguards who are so unethical as to get themselves into these occasions, I guess it is."
Rudi sensed her withdrawal and kissed her, trying to put all he felt into the kiss. When she melted against him, he dared to break away for a moment. "Does my owner have any other commands for me? Did I please her?"
Her sly smile made him want to crow in triumph. "It's possible," she said. "But I think we ought to try again, just to be sure."
He began to protest that even a slave needed rest, when he realized that he did not. Ellen proved to be more powerful than any of the concoctions he had heard whispered about among the men at home. Rudi lifted Ellen in his arms and bore her into the bedroom. He paused to deposit the oven mitt and the pistol on the bedside table, then set about fulfilling the instructions of his temporary owner.
Ellen's first thought when she woke up the next morning was that she had been through a beating and left to die. Then she remembered. The horse, the cliff and Rudi.
He still lay in the bed beside her, facedown, smashed into the pillows, arms and legs sprawled as if laying claim to the entire mattress. Just like a man.
She smiled and resisted the temptation to twine one of his sable curls around her finger. She had things to do first. Things she would get to just as soon as a hot shower steamed some of the ache away. Of course, without Rudi's massage, Ellen didn't think she would have been able to move at all. Carefully she slid out of bed and hobbled into the bathroom.
The shower made her body feel almost human again, and the coffee finished the job. Her outsides began to match her insides, which felt superhuman. She couldn't stop smiling, thinking of last night. Rudi was more than she'd ever dreamed possible. His tender seduction had made her believe again. Surely he could never have showed such care for her pleasure if she meant nothing more than a conquest.
She took a quick gulp of the coffee, scalding her tongue, and picked up the phone on the kitchen wall. It might be a little late, but if she resigned now, maybe the fallout wouldn't be too bad.
"Hey, Jan, it's me," she said when the phone was answered in New York.
"Ellen?" The receptionist's voice dropped to a near whisper. "Where have you been? Mr. Campanello's about to start frothing at the mouth."
She frowned. "He knows where I am. Oh, never mind, Jan, just put me through. I'll see if I can calm him down."
"Sheffield!"
Ellen moved the phone away from her ear, but kept it close to her mouth. "Hey, boss."
"Where the hell are you? You're fired, you hear me?" The bellow suddenly ceased and became a near whimper, allowing her to move the earpiece closer.
"How could you do this to me? Those Arab clients have been giving me all kinds of grief, because that prince vanished again. I need you, Sheffield."
"But…" Ellen was confused. "I told Marco I was with Rudi. Rudi said—"
"Who the hell is Rudi?" Campanello was back to bellowing.
Understanding dawned. Rudi wasn't his name. It was just a nickname. She'd thought of him as Rudi for so long that it hadn't occurred to her that she was probably the only person in the world who did.
"Rudi is Rashid. Prince Rashid." She sank into a kitchen chair, hand over her eyes to hide her pain from the squirrels outside the window.
"You're with the prince? That's great! Where are you? Why didn't you report in?"
"I just did. Rudi—that is, Rashid—told me this trip was cleared." Of course it hadn't been. She realized that now.
He had skipped town without telling anyone and had made her an accessory to his flight. He'd taken a risk letting her call in to check, but it had paid off for him. Big time.
"I thought you knew where we were."
"And where is that?"
"New Mexico. A place Ru—Rashid has near the mountains. It's a great safe house." Ellen wiped away the tears, tasting the bitter salt of her own stupidity.
"Good. Looks like we're going to need it. The cops have spotted one of those Qarif terrorists in New York. Here's what I want you to do."
"Wait. I thought I was fired."
"Get outta here. You're not fired. You're a vice president, for cryin' out loud. You're my partner."
"Well, then, I quit."
"You can't quit, either. Partners don't quit on each other. I need you on this one. How long we been together, Sheffield?"
"I don't know. Six years."
"Six years. Practically since you finished the academy and came on the job. Remember? Who was there when you dumped that rat Lowe?"
"You." Oh Lord, was he going to go through the whole litany again?
"Who was there when those jerks in the precinct went after you 'cause you got promoted so fast?"
"You, boss, okay? You don't have to—"
"Who was there when—"
"I got the message, okay?" She broke in on his recital. "It's just—I can't work this job anymore, boss." She tried hard to keep the tears out of her voice, but she didn't succeed. "It wouldn't be ethical."
Silence stretched as Campanello absorbed the meaning behind her words. "Oh, geez, Sheffield. Why'd you have to go and fall in love with the guy?"
"I'm not in love with him." She couldn't be. She was just another notch on the bedpost to him.
"If you slept with him, you're in love with him. I know you. We been through this before. Geez, Sheffield, what happened to my Ice Princess, huh?"
"I don't know." The tears fell harder, let loose by Campanello's rough sympathy. "I lost my mind, I guess."
"Okay, here's what I need you to do—"
"Vic, didn't you hear me? I have to resign from this job."
"Do this first. Then I'll let you quit. You're the only guy I got on the spot, Ellen. I really do need you."
She sighed, swiping uselessly at her eyes. "Okay, boss. But you owe me."
"I always owe you something, Sheffield. What's new?" He paused. "Are you gonna be okay with this?"
Ellen took a deep breath. If Vic Campanello was acting this nice to her, she must really sound in bad shape. "Yeah. I'll make it." She had to.
"Okay, so now can I tell you what I want you to do?"
Her chuckle was feeble, but it was there. Her boss was one of the good guys. "Go ahead."
"We can use this safe house for big brother Ibrahim's family. They think some of those terrorists got out of Qarif, and they think they're probably coming over here. So what I need you to do is t
his."
As she listened to her instructions, Ellen built back her weak defenses, ready to topple over at the next perfect smile from that snake. To fortify them, she enumerated Rudi's faults. He was arrogant. He was a smart-ass. He had lied to her.
This whole trip had been one big lie. Except for the thing with the well in town. And he'd used that one bit of truth to build all his lies on.
He'd lied when he told her his family knew about the trip. He'd lied when he said her boss knew about it. But the worst, biggest lie was when he had made her believe he cared about her.
He didn't cherish her any more than a lion cherished the zebra it ate. He fussed about her climbing the cliff only because if she fell and killed herself, he wouldn't get his notch. But she had been the one stupid enough to believe every soulful look. And she was still dumb enough to wish they'd been true.
"Stupid," Ellen hissed aloud as she gathered up what little gear she had. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."
She took the clothes. She would need them. But she left the cowboy boots standing beside the bedroom door.
Rudi woke slowly after his night of slavery. He lay cocooned in the sheets for an age, remembering every delicious moment of the experience, before he stretched out an arm, seeking Ellen. The other side of the bed was cool, its occupant long gone.
Slitting an eye open, he saw the sun spots on the floor near the windows, indicating a time shortly past noon. After the night's exertions, he had needed to recoup his energies. The night was over. Now it was time for the day's delights. A shower would make a good beginning. If Ellen would not scrub his back, surely he could convince her to let him scrub hers.
He wrapped the sheet around him in a sort of djellaba and went to find her. "Ellen?"
As he stepped through the bedroom entrance, the door to his house burst open and a riot spilled through it. A riot made up of Ibrahim's four children, their mother, Kalila and, herding them all before him, his brother Ibrahim.
Eight
"Rashid, are you ready to go to work?" Ibrahim paused near the hotel-suite door and looked back at Rudi.