The Resolute Prince

by Nana Prah

  The guilt over the lies she’d told to preserve her training spot with him had no power here. The press of his firm yet soft mouth created a need that took precedence over everything else. Not even her mind had the gall to argue her out of it when the more aroused areas of her body had taken over.

  She responded without hesitation by gliding the tip of her tongue against his lower lip. He opened his mouth. Those strong, capable hands gripped her hips. The entry into his warmth left no regrets as she explored. His deep moan caused her core to clench. Every inch of her was on fire.

  His tongue swirling with hers reminded her of the sport they both loved. Only no one was trying to win. It was all about pleasure. He definitely knew how to give while she had no difficulty taking. Gripping her arms around his wide shoulders, she clung, bringing her body flush against his as she delved and parried into his mouth. Tasting, teasing, and needing every stroke that they shared.

  She tangled her fingers into his locs, pulling him closer and angling her head so she could do a better job of devouring. The intoxicating light musk of his natural scent combined with his spicy citrus cologne had her wanting to climb up the mountain of a man to get closer.

  Without warning, she stood devoid of his heat radiating into her. The loss of his touch left her muddled as she closed her mouth, still craving him. She opened her eyes when she heard a male voice say, “Good evening.”

  The prince, seeming to have recovered, returned the greeting. “Good evening, Osa. How are the rounds going?”

  “Fine, Your Highness. Everything is in order.”

  Zareb dismissed the guard with a nod.

  Malika kept her head bowed while footsteps made their way down the hallway. Her skin had yet to cool. Neither from their encounter or the humiliating fact that she’d been on the cusp of getting caught making out with someone Zareb considered to be a stranger.

  Never one to run away from a confrontation, Malika raised her eyes only to discover passion swirling in the depths of his. The throbbing at her centre returned. She’d never wanted someone more.

  There was only one thing to do. She leapt into his arms and stood on her toes to reacquaint their mouths. The taste of Zareb on her tongue exploded as she took in as much of him as her greed would allow.

  Her hands roamed over his back as her breasts pushed against his steel chest. Nobody had the right to be so physically perfect.

  A wanton moan of desire registered. When she recognized it as hers, she understood that she’d gone too far. So, what if she’d wanted this for three weeks while he’d only known her for a couple of hours? Throwing herself at the prince was bad decorum.

  But it felt so good.

  Logic took over, and she tore her mouth away.

  He didn’t get the hint when he nibbled along her collarbone. Large hands against her ribcage came within an inch of touching her breasts where her nipples strained against her satin bra.

  Panting, she placed her hands against his shoulders and gave a slight shove only for her to be the one to step backwards from the immovable man.

  It had been the right thing to do as her breaths were no longer filled with him. They were moving too fast. Whatever was going to happen with Zareb, she refused to regret it. If it occurred tonight without him knowing who she was, she’d break that one promise to herself. No matter how much she wanted to give in to her baser, more delicious raunchier urges, she’d force herself to wait until honesty unravelled between them.

  He had the right to know.

  She hitched her thumb behind her in the last direction she wanted to go. “I’m heading inside. Have a good night. Thank you for walking me to my room.”

  May you be blessed with more riches and power for giving me the best kisses of my life.

  At his step forward, she utilized one of her fencing footwork moves to slide away from his raised arm. The quick movement ensconced her safely inside. It was much easier to do the right thing when he wasn’t touching her.

  He grinned. “That was a well-executed retreat.”

  The metal of the door handle bit into her hand. “Thank you.”

  “I won’t disturb you with my offer again this evening. But I’ll be in touch.”

  His husky voice tempted her to invite him into her suite to carry out every one of the erotic fantasies she’d had about him. She closed the door a little in order to protect herself from his domineering presence. “Goodnight.”

  He didn’t have her private unlisted number so she had no concerns about him calling her.

  She’d have taken him up on his offer if she felt he would train her as more than someone he wanted to show off to. Yet, he’d never mentioned or boasted about his Olympic medallist status, which would impress anyone.

  Zareb stepped back instead of advancing, and the disappointment of having him leave created a hollowness in her chest.

  “I’ll speak to you soon,” he promised.

  She held back a sigh.

  Sooner than you think.

  Chapter Eleven

  This is a training session just like all the others. No need to be nervous.

  Malika wished her moist palms would listen to her brain’s message. She’d returned to being Sule and had sulked around the palace all day Sunday hoping to catch a glimpse of Zareb. As much time as he spent in the place, he’d only be seen when he wanted to. Or maybe he’d spent the day in his own home miserable because they weren’t together. A woman could dream.

  Anxiety over seeing him again after tackling him with a kiss had carried her to the gym thirty minutes earlier than their set appointment on Monday. The steel doors of the locked facility pressed into her back as she contemplated how his lips had tantalized her. The way he’d pulled her to him as if he already knew her body sent a shiver rolling down her spine.

  “Are you cold?”

  Malika jumped to her feet. The man could sneak up on a ghost. “No, Your Highness.”

  Unlike previous days, this time, his assessing scowl disturbed her. Would he recognize her as Malika? The pain in her stomach had to be an ulcer. Now that he’d met her as Malika, the torment of deceiving him had worsened. He deserved better.

  She needed him as her coach, though. Their chemistry had been explosive the other evening. It wasn’t until she’d cooled off that she’d spent most of the night researching coach-athlete romantic relationships. She’d read through the 118-page International Olympic Committee Code of Ethics handbook and found nothing that could deter her and Zareb from being together while she trained.

  They were both consenting adults. There was no rule against it. Several Olympic participants had been coached by their spouses. Not that she and Zareb were married, but their relationships had to start from somewhere. She had a feeling that he would see it a whole lot differently.

  The click of the lock opening was loud in the tomb-like quiet of the early morning.

  “We’re holding our annual fencing competition here in three weeks,” he said once they’d entered.

  She could feel his gaze on her in the low-lit gym. Pulling a Zareb, she kept her expression neutral while she waited for him to make his point.

  “Are you interested in participating?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave her a hard look. “I thought you might be a little more enthusiastic about it.”

  Malika hitched a shoulder. Over the past few weeks, she’d enjoyed acting like a teenager. It was more fun the second time around without those unstable hormones controlling her.

  Portraying as if she weren’t dancing inside, she mumbled, “I’m excited.”

  A muscle twitched in Zareb’s jaw. “Go change.”

  Why should he care if Sule didn’t react? It wasn’t as if Zareb emoted well. Until last night when he’d thrown about his smiles as if he were a normally happy and relaxed man, she’d have described him as being made of marble. Gorgeous, but cold.

  She bowed her head as she trudged to the locker room. She preferred the Zareb that had made her boil over
with desire.

  No matter which persona he displayed, she was still anxious. Not just about him discovering her ruse, but about being so close to him. God help her if he decided to go shirtless. He might find himself slapping her hands away from exploring. That would be horrible for her cover.

  ***

  Zareb shook off the sense of foreboding that had enshrouded him as he watched Sule go to the locker room. Uncanny how much the boy resembled his sister. Not to mention uncomfortable. The need he’d had last night to reach out and touch Malika had mimicked itself today as he stood with Sule. He’d had to stop himself from tugging the boy into a hug.

  Frustrated after thinking he’d had himself in control when it came to Sule, he stomped through the facility and tossed his gear into his office before getting the gym ready for opening. Something he normally left to his staff, but he’d been restless when he’d awoken earlier than normal.

  Women never got into his system so completely that he’d allowed them to consume the thoughts that work tended to occupy. He couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation they’d had. Or their kisses.

  Other than his usual security rounds, Sunday had been spent hunting for everything about Malika that he could find.

  The search he’d initially done had been focused on Sule when he’d arrived. Zareb had found little of interest. The boy had studied in Spain at the brother boarding school that Malika had attended. As Sule had mentioned, he'd competed on the fencing team there.

  His sister, on the other hand, had been humble when it came to her fencing career. He’d watched a few of her clips, and she’d been excellent. She and Sule shared a similar style. He’d found a short video that they’d posted of them full-on sparring when she’d gone to visit her brother at school in Barcelona. He hadn’t been able to tell who was whom with their masks down, but they’d both been skilful with a similar style.

  The duality of pride and disappointment had warred. Why hadn’t she told him that she was that good? She’d brought up his not training women. Did she think he’d scoff at her accomplishments because she was a female?

  It wasn’t out of disrespect for women that he didn’t train them. Their treachery could damage without needing a weapon.

  Fariah.

  The name clawed against his brain. She’d tried to shackle herself to him using blatant lies she’d thought would destroy him.

  He tugged his shirt over his head and wiped away the memory of her idiotic viciousness.

  His thoughts turned to Malika and how impressed he’d been with her business acumen. His resources had allowed him to dig into the finances of the company she co-owned, Quest Technologies. She and her partner were on their way to becoming top contenders in the industry.

  Driven, successful, intelligent, strong, and beautiful. The perfect combination for him.

  Right after the workout with Sule, he’d call the number he’d acquired from his background search. He’d impressed himself by not contacting Malika the moment he’d received it on Sunday.

  He missed her.

  ***

  Why?

  Malika was seconds away from falling to her knees while screaming an elongated version of the word.

  What had she done to deserve such punishment? Backing off on the teenage angst attitude was her new order of business if this was the end result. No longer able to support herself on her legs, she slid against the wall to the floor. Unwilling to embarrass herself by curling up into the foetal position and whimpering, she picked up her bottle of water and guzzled the cool drink.

  Her mother would’ve been appalled at her lack of civil behaviour as liquid dribbled down her chin. Malika didn’t care. She’d lost enough sweat today to fill a bathtub. She needed to replace the fluids fast now that the threat of vomiting from exertion had retreated.

  Their standard five-mile jog had led to sprints. Then, he’d had her hold various fencing stances on a low balance beam for interminable amounts of time. At least, he’d done it right alongside her. After that, they’d gone fifty rounds of fencing bouts. Not once did she strike a point.

  She was starting to believe that the one time she’d scored against him had been a fluke. An aberration never to be repeated. Perhaps she wasn’t as good a fencer as she’d thought.

  Snap out of it. Crawl over to the other side of the room and grab another bottle of water so you can start thinking clearly again.

  The concept of moving remained a thought. She couldn’t do it. Instead, she willed the water to her with her mind. It stayed on the table since she had yet to master any sort of telekinesis.

  Heavy lids drifted closed as her tongue became sandpaper dry.

  “Here.”

  Zareb’s baritone startled her. Not enough for her to open her eyes or demonstrate a defensive position. That would be too much work. What could he be offering? More torment?

  “Take the water.”

  It took two tries to reach out her right arm. She gave up and used her non-fencing hand to grab the bottle. When their fingers touched, an electrical current moved through her. The sensation caused her to snap her eyelids open. His face was an expressionless mask. Had he felt it, too? His sudden steps backwards told her he had, but she couldn’t be sure.

  It hit her that she was supposed to be a guy. The poor man must be freaking out if he was reacting to her in this state the same way as he did Malika. The thought of hurting him upset her.

  It would ease his mind if she came clean. She swirled water in her mouth and swallowed, intending to do just that because she didn’t want him questioning himself.

  “Sentiment will not make you a champion.”

  The queen had emphasized the statement with a stern glare when she’d presented the idea of her acting like a young man.

  “You must do what you have to do. Right now, that’s to acquire this masculine identity. Trust me. I know my son.”

  What had happened to him in order to make him so adverse to working with women? She’d spent hours searching the Internet in an attempt to discover the truth. Other than when he was associated with his family, fencing, and his many endorsements, the man kept his name out of people’s mouths.

  She couldn’t risk letting him learn that it was Malika who sat crumpled in front of him.

  He’d just have to live with his reaction to her being a male. She pacified her guilt by reminding herself that it wouldn’t hurt him to be off balance for a little while. At least until the competition. If she lived that long.

  A small part of her was happy that he’d reacted to her in both forms. After all, she was the same person. His attraction to her was real even though he didn’t know the truth. Something else he might not be able to forgive her for.

  Would she have the compassion to let the betrayal go if their roles were reversed? She could only pray that he wasn’t half as much of a grudge-holder as her.

  She gulped down her near-admission with the water.

  “I know I worked you hard, but slow down on drinking. I don’t need you choking.”

  She’d roll her eyes at his supposed kindness when she left his sight. Right then, she had to peel herself off of the floor so she could head back to the palace and die in the comfort of her bed.

  Chapter Twelve

  He was running out of ways to justify his disturbing reactions to Sule, especially since the spark that had passed between them had been reminiscent of what had occurred with Malika each time they’d made contact.

  Attraction.

  Zareb mentally gripped the word, slammed it down, and stomped on it. That was not a possibility.

  Isn’t it?

  He growled at his mind to keep it quiet.

  He wouldn’t go there. Ignoring any questions about his sexuality had kept him sane when it came to Sule, so he’d continue with his own rarely administered ignorance is bliss protocol. He left the young man to recover from the gruelling workout. Perhaps he’d driven him too far today.

  Yet, it had been Sule who’d requested to t
rain with him, not the other way around. The one thing he’d promised himself when he’d retired from competitive fencing was that he’d lead others to their greatness in the sport. Sule had so much potential that he shone with it. Zareb would do everything in his power to make him a champion.

  Without a backward glance at his new protégé, he strode to his office to shower. Undergoing the process on autopilot, he contemplated the best encounter he’d had with a woman in a very long time.

  What was it about Malika that intrigued him? There was more to their attraction than a beautiful face. Her strength and willingness to reveal it had impressed him to the point of needing to touch her. His skin sizzled thinking about her fingers flexing against his muscles. Those plush lips and tongue had responded in a way that set off a ball of fire low in his belly.

  There was more than the physical between them. When was the last time he’d laughed with a woman who wasn’t a close friend or family member? That had to mean something.

  Maybe for once in his life, he shouldn’t attempt to understand and strategize.

  Now this woman had him thinking ridiculous things. He’d be going against his nature if he didn’t try to figure it out in a logical manner. No. What he needed was to organize a plan to see her again.

  By the time he stepped into a pair of khaki trousers, he’d established an idea. Minutes ago, he’d left the closest person in his sphere to Malika lying in a heap on the floor. Using Sule would be easier than asking his mother. He didn’t need her bombarding in on his personal business any more than she already did.

  Marching out of his office into the main gym, he waved to some of the members without stopping to converse.

  He pushed open the door to the men’s locker room. “Sule.”

  No response. He walked into the open area flanked by lockers. The sight of the young man lying on the bench not appearing to be breathing brough him to his knees.