by Sophia Lynn
"Thank you," he said. "I don't know if I would like that from … well, anyone else besides you."
"You're getting ahead of yourself," she said, striving to put a little distance between them. "I'll bet you hear that from all of the women that you've brought up here."
"Actually, you are the first woman I have brought here," he said, his voice oddly soft. "This has always been a family place. I wouldn't bring up a woman who was not family. At least not without a damned good reason."
For a moment, listening to his words, her heart beat a little faster. Was he saying that she was somehow special? That she mattered in a way that those other women hadn't? The fantasy was intoxicating for a moment, but then she crashed back down to earth when she thought about the "damned good reason." He might have been interested in her, sensed the chemistry between them, but the good reason that he had to bring her here likely had everything to do with the antiques that he wanted her to appraise and very little to do with how special she might or might not have been.
"All right," she said, stepping back from the wall of photos. "That's enough satisfying my curiosity. What's up here that you wanted me to look over?"
"I will satisfy your curiosity about anything you wish," he said, and she wasn't sure what trick of his voice or face made it sound positively dirty.
When she gave him a skeptical look, however, he sighed and stepped away from the wall as well. "All right, this way."
The pieces that he wanted to show her were situated in a long hallway with a glass ceiling. When Berry first entered the space, she couldn't help but stare up at the blue, blue sky as seen through the glass.
"How beautiful," she said softly. "This must be amazing when it snows …"
"Like a magical land from a fairy tale," he promised. "Tonight, we can come back if it is clear and you can see the stars."
For a moment, she was so elated by the idea of seeing the stars, so pure and clear far away from the city, that she missed the part about staying the night.
"You mean we're not going back today?"
"Not unless you absolutely need to go back," he said with a shrug. "It's not really an easy flight, and it is better done in daylight anyway."
"Oh." When he put it that way, it made sense that they would stay the night. "Only I don't have any clothes or supplies …"
"I can take care of that easily enough," he said with a shrug. "Many of my female relatives have stayed here, and they have left a thousand years' worth of clothing and of course there are toiletries. It is convenient enough for us to spend the rest of the weekend here if you'd like."
He offered it in such an offhand way that she was taken by surprise. Before she could comment on it, he gestured down the hall.
"The marble figures are the ones that I have brought you here to examine. They were collected piecemeal, and all that my family knows is that they are all marble."
Berry nodded, getting out her tablet and getting ready to get to business. This was her job, after all, and it would likely help steady her. There was something intoxicating about Rasul, and if she was unoccupied for too long … well, this was the first time she had ever really understood the saying that idle hands were the devil's playground.
"All right," she murmured, as she started walking down the first line of marble sculptures. "I'm going to take a quick and dirty look at all of them and go back and get the ones that look interesting."
"Surely they are all interesting?" he asked, following behind her. She smiled ruefully at him.
"Well, these first two are Victorian fakes."
"Oh?"
"Yup. Most families wanted to have Hellenistic statues in their homes, and the market for ancient marble chipped just last week went sky-high. If you look carefully, you'll see that the marks are from tools that are comparatively modern."
"Ah. My great-aunt will be disappointed."
"They're still Victorian pieces, though, if this is any consolation. All right, this one of the hunter is only a little older, but this one of the woman and the doe may very well be the real thing …"
She continued, concentrating on making her verbal notes as she went, as after all, she was very good at this. The pieces were mostly unremarkable, but there were a few that stood out. She had to admit, however, that they were all quite beautiful, and in a collection put together by a wide variety of people, that in itself was a notable achievement.
At the end, however, she stopped and stared at the last statue.
"I'll admit that that is one that I’ve wondered about," Rasul said from behind her. Somehow, during her tour of the statues, he had gotten much closer to her than she had thought he had. Now he was nearly directly behind her, his breath soft in her ear. If she had wanted to, she could simply lean back and find herself in his arms. She swallowed instead, focusing on the piece in front of her, trying to think of what she wanted to say.
It featured a woman in loose robes, her hair unbound in a way that was surprising. The woman leaned back, one arm raised to the heavens and the other arm limp by her side. Her eyes were closed, her lips were open, and she looked exactly like a woman in ecstasy.
"I think …" she started, and then she tried again. "I think this one is actually a Renaissance piece. The way the figure is carved, the quality of the marble, it has more to do with the Renaissance than it does with the classical period. Before I do any research, I would say that this looks a lot like St. Theresa to me."
"And, ah, her expression?"
Berry tried to keep her voice level, because if she gave it the least chance, it would absolutely shake. "Er, well, St. Theresa was a woman who experienced the miraculous as … as ecstatic. She left behind writings that spoke of the divine as entering her as a beam of light, leaving her impaled in a kind of religious agony."
Rasul tilted his head to look up at the statue. "I am not sure that agony is the word that I would use for this woman," he mused.
Berry knew that she should let the matter drop. Religious agony was a perfectly good way to describe what the saint was going through. It had been used in many academic texts to describe that exact look on her face. However, Berry knew that she was going to contradict that.
"Well, it can mean several different things. St. Theresa had visions. Some say that the visions were a result of migraines, that the bursts of light and faintness were due to pain. Others … well, others say that it was a result of spontaneous sexual release."
"Spontaneous … sexual … release," Rasul repeated, and when he looked at her, she felt butterflies in her stomach.
"Yes," she said, her mouth suddenly dry. "That's … at least, that's what they say."
He looked up at the statue again, and then glanced down at her. In a heartbeat, it was clear to her what he was wondering. Was that what she would look like when she came? Would she close her eyes and arch her back, longing for more even as the sensations drove through her until she was spent?
"I, um … Okay, I'm going to start from the beginning again, and do some proper write-ups for you. This way, we both know that there are not going to be any surprises. Does that work for you?"
"Yes …" he said slowly. "That works just fine for me."
She did as she said, but as they went on, she could feel his clear gray eyes on her. No matter how innocuous her motions or how quiet his reply, she could feel the electric, erotic undercurrent right beneath everything that they did together.
Finally, Berry had to excuse herself to the bedroom, just so she could get the breather that she needed. In the cool air-conditioned room that he had told her was hers for the length of their stay, she threw herself on the bed, staring up at the silk canopy with unseeing eyes.
I can't even say how much trouble I am in, she thought. I want him so much …
But the same barriers that had been there the entire time hadn't changed in the least. They were still there. He was still a man who was too used to getting what he wanted. She was still a woman who needed her own way. Some part of her wond
ered if there was a way for them to meet in the middle, while her common sense was telling her that there certainly was not.
One of the reasons that he had brought her to this mountain retreat was to find out how compatible they really were. However, the closer they got to figuring that out, the more frightened she became. She wondered if, in loving this man, she would lose herself to him. No matter what they agreed on, at the end, it would be a fling for him. She was becoming much more afraid that it would turn out to be something much more for her.
She wasn't proud of herself, but she spent the rest of the day hiding in the bedroom. When Rasul appeared to tempt her with dishes, she claimed that she was too busy to stop, though she did accept the food that he offered. When she went back to her desk with the sandwich and appetizers he had made her, she felt even guiltier.
How many women wanted to be right where she was now? How many would love to have a man like Rasul plying her with food and charm?
Berry shook her head hard. She couldn't let the feelings that were overwhelming her take over. Even as a part of her wanted nothing more than to be close with this man, the rest of her told her that it was dangerous.
However, even as she lay down in the cold bed, she couldn't stop remembering how he had looked at her in the hall, how his eyes had seemed to be lit from within with a beautiful glow. The desire was so powerful that it warmed her even now, and though she tried to sleep, she could not resist thinking about those skilled hands running over her, setting her on fire.
Please, she imagined whispering to him in the night. Please take me …
CHAPTER SIX
Rasul paced in his own room. Outside the dark window, the wind kicked up, howling through the mountain peaks. It suited his mood, and he tried to keep his mind away from the beautiful woman that he knew slept just a few rooms away.
Why had she accepted this invitation if she was going to hide? Did she take some kind of pride in making a sheikh dance on attendance on her? He had certainly known women who had. However, whenever he tried to get angry about it, he only thought of Berry, with her snapping green eyes and unaffected grace. She was far too direct to engage in the games that he was accustomed to. He couldn't imagine her wanting a man to be consumed with anger and frustration over actions.
However, that only took him back to where he had been before, which was confusion. What was she thinking?
There was a moment in the hall of statues where he had felt something he had never felt before. When their eyes met over the statue of St. Theresa, he had felt something pass between them that took his breath away. A woman who had lived centuries ago had had her sensual thrill immortalized in marble, and suddenly, he had wanted more than anything to see Berry in just such a pose.
To Rasul's distress, she had backed away as if frightened. Surely he couldn't have frightened her? The thought was absurd, but it lingered.
The rest of the day, no matter how he had tried to entice her, she had hidden in her room like a scared rabbit. Her actions did not make sense with the bold and spirited woman that he had met, the one that he was half-convinced he was falling in love with.
He was not making any headway in this fashion, so that meant that it was up to him to change his luck. A fisherman who was not catching any fish changed his bait; a hunter who was not felling any game changed his location. He must adapt, and over the course of the night, he wondered what he was going to do.
***
By around eleven a.m. the next morning, Berry had done everything that she could possibly do. She had finished the write-ups and backed them up, she had showered, and she had found the clothes that Rasul had promised in the closets. After some deliberation, she found a light dress in a summery green that fit as if it was tailored for her slenderness, and as an afterthought, she braided her chestnut hair and let the braid hang down behind her.
When her stomach rumbled, she knew that it was time to give up and come out of her hiding place.
Walking through the halls of the mansion, for that was the only word she could come up with to describe the place, Berry felt very small. Rasul's family had been in power for hundreds of years, and their family line was distinguished for its wealth and its pride. When she went past the surprisingly homey wall of family portraits, she stopped to look at the one of Rasul's parents again. What would his father, so stern and like his son, have thought of her? Would his mother, so lovely and serious, have liked her, or would she have thought that her son was choosing someone beneath himself? There was no way to tell, and finally, she simply walked on.
The kitchen was an airy and sunny place, and Berry was only a little startled to find Rasul there. He looked up from his phone when she entered, and smiled slightly.
"So the sleeping beauty has emerged," he teased. "Did you sleep well?"
Abruptly, his innocent words made her blush. She thought of her dreams, where a dark man with light eyes had touched her all over before making her his, and she shook them away.
"Yes! That is, I did," she said, a little more calmly. "I did. Did you?"
He shrugged. "It was perhaps a little dull," he said. "I was half hoping that you would finish with your work early and we could entertain each other."
There were so many ways for her to take that. She fought back the blush decisively, smiling a little at him. "Well, I'm happy to say that I'm completely done with the write-ups now, and I am at your disposal."
He raised an eyebrow, and she was reminded all over again of her own cowardice when it came to how she had hidden all day yesterday.
"Really?"
"Really," Berry insisted. "In fact … I decided I liked your idea of staying for the weekend."
If anything, Rasul's eyebrow went even higher. "I will warn you that neither of us will be entertained if you stay in your room with the door closed," he said mildly, and hearing the implicit challenge in his voice, Berry lifted her chin.
"I won't," she said. "And unless you have more antiques for me to take a look at … well, I'm all yours."
So far, she and Rasul had been chatting together mildly enough, the flames between them low and easy to ignore. When she said those words to him, his eyes lit up. It was, she thought, like waving a red flag before the bull, and now she knew how the matadors of Spain felt.
"That is what you wish?" he asked, his voice intent and low. After a moment, she nodded, her tongue tied and her throat dry.
As she watched in an agony of anticipation, he stalked towards her. She backed up until she hit the wall behind her, and could go no farther. Still he came on until he was lightly pressing her to the wall with his bulk. She whimpered a little as he touched her chin, making her lift her face to his.
Without a word, without a warning or anything else, he lowered his mouth to hers. The kisses that they had enjoyed before were rough and hurried things, powerful for their speed and strength. This kiss, however, was powerful simply due to the slowness and deliberation of it, to the sweetness of being able to enjoy each other.
As Rasul kissed her, Berry lost all of the fear and hesitation that she had been harboring. Instead, under his masterful touch, she gave herself up to the kiss and to the power of his need that made hers rise up so high. He kissed her the way that she had always wanted to be kissed, and when he pulled back, she looked at him with a small degree of shock.
"Rasul?"
He smiled slightly. She saw with a fascinated glance that his lips were red with what they had done, and she knew that hers must be the same.
"That is just the start of what I want to do with you," he murmured, "but before we do anything, I want you to be sure. However … I have started to wonder if part of the misunderstanding between us is how you want to move forward."
"How I want to—"
"It is a simple thing," he said with a slight smile. "For the next twenty-four hours, you may say no to anything that you wish. If you tell me no, than I will stop. However, I am free to do as I like until you say no. Is that clear?"
; For a moment, she was so struck by the sheer eroticism of his plan that she was silent. Then Berry nodded. "Yes," she said, and if her voice came out huskier than she thought it should, neither of them commented on it.
"Good," he said.
For a moment, she thought that he was going to start in with their strange experiment that very moment, but then he stepped back to the refrigerator.
"It is a bit late for breakfast, but perhaps you would like an omelet for brunch?"
For a moment, she didn't realize what he was asking, but then she heard him and laughed. "Yes, eggs sound very good," she said.
What had she been thinking, after all? No matter what her fantasies were, Rasul was a real man who lived in the real world. She couldn't expect her erotic fantasies to take over completely.
At least, that was what she thought until he gave her some green onions and a knife and directed her to a cutting board at the kitchen island. She was thinking of nothing more than getting the onions chopped for their meal when he came up behind her, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist.
"I do not think that you have any idea how beautiful you truly are," he whispered. "I do not think that you understand how very much any man seeing you would want you."
"I … I think I have had many men look at me and decide that they didn't want me," she whispered self-consciously. "I'm tall, and my hair is dull and I'm so flat …"
"You are elegant," he corrected, "and your hair shines like a rare wood and as for your figure …"
She held her breath as his hands wandered up her sides to cup her small breasts in his hands. The tingles from his touch were enough to make her gasp, and then he squeezed gently, making her press back against him for more. Her mind was filled with the idea of him sweeping the onions aside, bending her over, lifting her skirt, and …
To her intense regret, however, he stepped back. "The men who turned you down were fools," he said decisively.
And then, as her face was flushed with heat for him and as she was close to whimpering with want, he returned to the heating skillet.
