by Olivia Gates
“About your shaving qualifications.”
She tossed her hair, looked down on him in mock disdain. “You’ll have to trust me, sir. I’m a doctor.”
He chuckled, surrendered to the soothing, distressing experience of having her capable fingers gliding over his face in the smoothness of foam, her intoxicating breath filling his lungs as she concentrated on details, her face inches from his.
He moaned a surplus of enjoyment and torment. “You know you’re the first to ever shave me?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Strange. Most men who aren’t sheikhs with hordes of aides shave at some barbershop sometimes.”
“My barber cuts my hair, period.” He drove his hand through it, winced. “On the rare occasions I let him, that is.”
She sighed. “Cutting hair like yours should be outlawed.”
A laugh ripped from him. “You’d like to see it longer?”
Something blazed in her eyes—hunger? Longing? Before he could work it out, she snatched it out of reach, lowering her eyes, a playful smile hovering on her lips. “Mid-back would be nice. So, what have you got against being shaved?”
He brought the urge to grab her and rekindle that lost expression under precarious control, heard his voice thickening as he murmured, “Among other forms of being waited on, it’s too … personal. I’m a bit of a fanatic about personal space.”
Her hand froze after she’d shaved the first swathe down his beard, exposing his grateful skin. “If you’re not comfortable … The whole point is to make you comfortable.”
He grabbed her hand as she moved it away, put it back to his face. “I am far, far beyond comfortable.”
Her color deepened, then she gave a giggle and resumed. “So now you’ll start hankering after getting shaved.”
“Not if it’s not you on the other end of the razor.”
She met his gaze in the mirror, her lips deep red and moist, her eyes radiating azure intensity. Would they look like that, would she flay him with such focus and welcome as he rose above her, spread her, took her silken legs over his hips.
Ya Ullah. So there was such a thing as torture by arousal.
She tilted his head against her breast to gain access below his jaw. The moment her firmness cushioned him, he groaned with the surge of sensations, felt his grip on consciousness slipping.
He jerked to the feel of her hand gliding over his face. He blinked at his clean-shaven reflection. When had she done that?
“The good news is you don’t snore,” she teased.
He sat up, dazed. “It’s getting alarming, these side trips to the twilight zone every time I sit still.”
“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure. But first—a shower. Go ahead as I put things in motion.”
All he wanted to do was rise, press her to the door and devour her, then take her to bed and finish her. Still—to his total shock—this was as satisfying. He needed her gentleness and generosity as much as he did her passion, needed. Needed?
He’d never needed. He’d been born into so much, need had been non-existent. He’d filled its void with purpose, goals, action, achievement. But now, this—this was need.
And it was so unknown he had no way of fighting it. He was sinking in her care and compassion, no thought left in him of denying himself the pleasure and privilege of her.
She skipped out of the bathroom. “And no filling the tub. There’s no way I’m budging you out of there if you fall asleep.”
He followed orders, showered vigorously, trying to wake himself up. He had to savor each moment with her.
He came out feeling as if he’d regained his old skin, and she pointed out the clothes on the bed, said “Saeed” as she rushed past him to her turn in the bathroom.
So she’d called Saeed. He’d bet Saeed’s speed in complying with her request had been for her, not him. During the past week Saeed had fallen under her spell, too.
Suddenly his blood roared in his ears, the lash of hormones an electric current jolting him to full wakefulness.
She was singing in the shower!
Elal Jaheem. To hell with duties and impossibilities. To hell with it all. He’d go in there, snatch her in his arms, let the water inundate them as it had the past week, this time warm, fusing, a medium for ferocity, for delirium. He’d knead and suckle her every inch, her every secret, deluge her in satisfaction, have her weeping for more, for him, and only then would he take her, then take her again.
At the bathroom door his storming steps faltered. He staggered the last one, leaned on the door, his ear to it, his hands miming caresses over her wet satin skin, listening to her emanating magic, feeling her influence tightening over his senses and will.
He knew she’d take him if he went in there. She’d open herself to him with all her fire and magnanimity.
And he couldn’t do that to her. Not when he understood her need, of all people, for nurturing and being nurtured, for stability and continuity, for a total, unconditional, permanent alliance. Everything he could never give her. He’d be beyond dishonorable if he succumbed. He’d be cruel. Criminal.
He turned on his heel, headed for the bed, dressed quickly.
He should leave. He shouldn’t have come in, shouldn’t have let her expose herself to this. He would leave, leave her a note, or just go and call later. No, send Saeed with explanations—no, no explanations, just apologies, and a lifelong offer of any and every service and support he could provide.
“You’re still awake!” He swung around at her soft exclamation, found her walking up to him, flushed, glowing, her hair a wet, darkened cascade over shoulders encased in a sleeveless stretch top echoing the color of her eyes, the rest of her curves cruelly hinted at in the layers of a flowing white skirt. She hurt him with her beauty. Then more when she ran a soothing hand down his back. “Must be the shower’s rejuvenating effect. I feel like a new woman. At least the old one. How about you?”
He hadn’t had time to take the coward’s way out and now had to face her. He tried, began, “Janaan—”
“How about a massage while we wait for food? I evoked my carte blanche with Adnan. Ordered plenty of logmet el guadi so we won’t have to fight over it.”
“Janaan—I’m really tired—”
“Duh. I’m not asking you for a massage, I’m offering one.” She took his hand in both of hers, guided him to the bed.
She pushed him down, tried to maneuver him face down, but he caught her to him, giving up again, knowing that he had to take this from her. But no more. Never more.
“Janaan, I don’t want food, or more coddling, I just want to hold you. Let me hold you, ya habibaty”
She jerked at his intensity, at the endearment. He’d never said it to anyone before. He’d believed beyond a doubt he’d live his life never finding anyone to call his darling, his love. But he had. And she was. She was.
He tugged at her and she sagged in his embrace, shy, open, giving. He could take all she had, and she’d let him wring her dry. But he wouldn’t—couldn’t—take. He would never harm her …
But haven’t you already? Aren’t you harming her now?
Yes, he was. But for tonight the harm had already been done. And for tonight, he’d pretend there was a tomorrow, that this was the first night of the rest of their lives together.
He rose above her as she lay quivering beside him, her heat singeing him, her eyes luminous, ready and—ya Ullah—so trusting.
He turned her to her side, worshipped her in strokes that encompassed the perfection and uniqueness of her in wonder and frustration and regret. Then he wrapped himself around her and again felt he’d been created for just this purpose, this privilege, to shelter her, share with her.
“Malek.” She moaned his name on a hot tremolo as she drove back against him, nestling into his body and being. And though he’d never felt such agony, with body and soul in the throes of a damaging arousal, she gave him something else he never thought to have. Peace. Profound and permeating.
The first thing Jay knew the moment she opened her eyes was that Malek was no longer around her.
She sat up in bed, her heart hammering, rattling her. Then she heard it. The shower.
He was still here.
She collapsed back with the reprieve. She’d have a little longer of him, even if it was only minutes.
The sun was trickling between the blackout curtains. They’d gone to bed at sunset, and she’d spent hours just feeling Malek all around her, absorbing his reality. She’d dreaded falling asleep and missing one breath, one heartbeat. But sleep had overcome her. She’d drowned in nightmares, in the agony of never getting the chance to say goodbye.
But he was still there. And she was no longer the same. The time of peace and intimacy in his arms had transfigured her.
This was the end, but he’d given her this. And it had been priceless, unrepeatable, something to power her through life.
The bathroom door opened and he stepped out, fresh, fully dressed and heart-wrenching. Longing and shyness almost stopped her heart as his heavy-lidded gaze raked disturbed, disturbing emotions over her. And she realized …
He didn’t know how to say goodbye.
She just had to make it easier for him.
She rose to her feet, approached him when he stood there, staring at her. “Sabah el khair ya Malek. You look well rested.”
His jaw clenched. “Janaan—we need to talk.”
She groped for lightness, smiled. “That sounds ominous.”
He clenched his fists, unclenched them. Then he spread his shoulders, stood straighter, almost formal. “Since your trip to Damhoor, and signing up with GAO were on the spur of the moment, you’re unaware of many basic facts about the land. And about the specifics of the mission you’ve signed up for. I don’t believe you know I am the mission’s leader. I should have mentioned it.”
Her heart did stop this time. Then it stumbled in a cacophony of shock and elation. This meant—this meant she’d have two whole months with him. Sixty more days!
She took a delighted step towards him. “Oh, Malek, that’s fantastic! We’ll be working together again …”
He took a step back, making her stumble to a halt. “No, we won’t. I am not clearing you to join the mission.”
CHAPTER NINE
MALEK WATCHED HIS words hitting Janaan like that flashflood had the disaster areas.
Seeing her eyes losing their animation, filling with incomprehension before the blow registered, was almost enough to make him retract them, forget all his resolutions. Almost.
“why?”
He gritted his teeth against her pain, delivered the answer he’d been rehearsing since he’d woken up. “It’s for the best.”
She lowered her eyes, visibly struggling to keep the sudden tears that had filled them from falling. “I see.”
Did she? He found himself struggling with the urge to rave and rant, trying to justify his decision, begging her to approve it, to exonerate him, to understand it was for her best.
“You don’t want a woman like me on a mission you’re leading. I know how men of your culture view easy women, and you no doubt think me that, think I’d be a liability.”
That was what she saw? “Janaan …”
She raised eyes glittering with hurt and determination. “I admit it was only due to your restraint that nothing happened between us. But if you’re afraid I think you’ve given me a green light to pursue you, that I’ll make any sort of demand, you’re gravely mistaken. I’m here to get to know the other side of my heritage while joining an effort I always wished to join. Once it’s over, I’ll leave this country, where I’m clearly not welcome.”
Malek would have been amazed at her resolve if he wasn’t going crazy with fury at her conclusions.
She thought he believed her easy for offering him a night of unparalleled, unrepeatable solace? When he’d never known such contentment, such greed for more, for everything, with another human being? When he’d been blown away by her generosity, her guilelessness, her trust, by her fervent desire to lift his burdens and by how she truly had just by being near, even when he couldn’t bring himself to share them with her? Though they hadn’t made love, their night together had been his life’s first true intimacy. He wanted more, would never stop wanting it.
And that was exactly why he had to send her away.
If she stayed within reach, he’d reach out for her. And she’d reach back. And she’d get hurt.
He was tempted to let her believe her version of the matter so she’d go. He couldn’t. He owed her the truth. At least some semblance of it to explain why he was refusing her clearance.
“Janaan, every word you just uttered is pure insanity. There’s no one like you. And I want you. I want you, Janaan. And that makes it unethical of me to include you on a mission where I’m not only your leader but your host and sponsor, too. It would be abusing my power, taking advantage of my position. Of you.”
She gave a little laugh, a cornered, incredulous sound. “The concept of abusing your power doesn’t even apply. You’re not my employer. I’m a volunteer, if you haven’t noticed. I’m here offering all I can offer of my own free will, for free.”
She meant far more than her medical services. She was offering all of herself, was telling him it was a conscious decision on her part, with no expectations in return.
Temptation rose to unendurable levels. But he had to fight it. For her. He shook his head, determined not to let this go any further. “I am more sorry than I can ever express, Janaan.”
“But, Malek.”
He struggled to shut out the desperation that seized her face, felt the last words he’d say to her gut him on their way out. “No, Janaan. This is final. Samheeni ya habibaty”
He surely wouldn’t forgive himself.
With a ragged goodbye, and one last look, one that would have to last him a lifetime, he turned and left the only woman he’d ever craved. The woman he loved.
Yes, loved. Ya Ruhmaan, how he loved her. He’d never thought he could love. Now he knew he could, to unimaginable heights, to fathomless depths, with all he had in him, knew he’d never love again. For his heart had woken up only to love her. And to love her forever.
Jay kept missing the keycard slot. She swore, feeling tears of agitation rushing to her eyes.
She felt like one big bruise. She shouldn’t wonder at that with all the ricocheting she’d done in the last couple of months. Not to mention since she’d met Malek. And that last blow before he’d walked out of her room that morning. And tomorrow she’d be veering off on another tangent, out of Damhoor. Never to return.
She pulled in a deep breath and tried to fit the card in her door again—and it receded out of reach!
Her eyes snapped up, a dozen unformed fears leaping in her mind, and there, in the semi-darkness, stood Malek.
Everything fell away. He was here. Here.
She couldn’t think why. Couldn’t think at all. Didn’t care. He was here. He’d given her another chance to see him. She raised her face up to him like a sunflower would to the sun. And he was dragging her inside, his hands burning her with his reality and agitation?
“Malek?” she choked, dread mushrooming. Something had happened. Something personal this time.
“Don’t even try to tell me you’re not manipulating me this time.” Her mouth dropped open at his harshness. “And don’t give me the ‘I don’t know what you’re taking about’ innocent routine. You know damned well what you did and why you did it.”
She stared up at him, mute, uncomprehending.
His rage only spiked. “And you’re not doing it. You are not going to Darfur, Janaan. I forbid you.”
It took a moment for his meaning to sink in as his eyes and breath blasted her.
Answering anger snapped her out of her enervated state, made her shake off his hands. “You ma
y be lord of all you survey where GAO missions in your region are concerned, but you have no say outside it.” He smiled, ridiculing, arrogant, almost vicious. She cried out, “You can’t have that kind of reach!”
One eyebrow rose, all malicious challenge. “Can’t I?”
So he could. Now she knew.
“What about all this talk about not abusing your power?” she seethed.
“Oh, I’ll make an exception this time.”
This was a side to him she hadn’t suspected. The ruthless sheikh who thought nothing of forcing people to bow down to his whims. It made her as mad as hell.
“How dare you?” she snarled. “You already deprived me of this mission, but how dare you presume to interfere in my decisions when they in no way impact on you?”
“I beg to differ.” He seemed to expand, his voice taking on a frightening edge. And she wondered what he’d be like with all his refinement and restraint gone. He’d be a destructive force of devastating magnitude. “Missions in Darfur are dangerous. And you will not go where you’ll be in danger. I forbid it.”
Their gazes dueled for a long moment. Then she turned away, processing what he’d said, elation over his concern for her well-being seeping into her soul, warming it after the deep-freeze where seeing the last of him had plunged it.
It didn’t warm it enough to melt her anger. She turned on him again. “Thanks for the concern, but I’ve fended for myself all my life and I won’t let you dictate my actions. Darfur was always my second choice, and I always knew that joining GAO carried risks. I’m not less than the other volunteers who risk their lives daily. At least I have no one who needs me or will be hurt if something happens to me.”
Malek felt her words hacking at him like razors.
That she’d go where she’d be in danger, where he couldn’t reach her, tampered with his sanity. That she expected something would happen to her during her service, that she accepted that it wouldn’t matter—it was beyond endurance.
He roared, “You’re only doing this to force me to change my mind, forcing me to choose the lesser evil!”
A disbelieving, sarcastic sound crackled on her lips. “How could I have been sure you’d find out about my plans before I left tomorrow for them to have the desired effect? And why should I think endangering myself would sway you when I thought your reasons for refusing my assignment had nothing to do with me and everything to do with preserving your honor and your position?”
