One Hot Desert Night. KRISTI GOLD
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“I wish to kiss you.”
Hearing the words melted Sunny's resolve to stay strong and not succumb to his charms. “I wouldn't exactly be uncomfortable, and I certainly wouldn't take offense. But I might regret it.”
Rayad smiled halfway. “Do you not trust my skill?”
She worried he had too much skill. “How do I know you're not the kind of man who kisses and tells?”
His expression went suddenly somber. “Whatever transpires between us will remain between us.”
Oh, heavens, she was going to do it—invite him to put her in a lip-lock. She had to know how it would feel. How she would feel. “In that case, show me your skill.”
Keeping his arms at his sides, he leaned forward to press his lips against hers, making a brief pass, then another, as if testing the waters. Then, as if she'd become someone else, Sunny wrapped one hand around his neck, signaling she needed more. He answered that need by delving into her mouth with the soft glide of his tongue.
Skilled was an enormous understatement.
One Hot Desert Night
Kristi Gold
KRISTI GOLD has a fondness for beaches, baseball and bridal reality shows. She firmly believes that love has remarkable healing powers and feels very fortunate to be able to weave stories of love and commitment. As a bestselling author, a National Readers’ Choice Award winner and a Romance Writers of America three-time RITA® Award finalist, Kristi has learned that although accolades are wonderful, the most cherished rewards come from networking with readers. She can be reached through her website at www.kristigold.com, or through Facebook.
To my future son-in-law, Christopher. We are so blessed to have you in our family.
Contents
Sheikh Rayad Rostam had blood on his hands, a bounty on his head and a burden he had carried for years.
Though at times he longed for peace, he had lived on the edge for so long, he knew no other way. And today, as he stared out the palace window to the mountains towering over Bajul, the pain in his side reminding him of his recent face-off with possible death, his never-ending mission still urged him to continue.
“You cannot return to your duties until you are medically cleared, Rayad.”
An order issued by the king, who happened to be his cousin. He despised any attempts to dictate his choices and a life where family loyalty and royal decrees prevailed. Battling anger, he chose to keep his attention focused on the familiar landscape to avoid Rafiq’s scrutiny. “I do not see why I cannot return immediately. I have suffered much worse than broken ribs and will probably do so again.”
“And the next time you could very well sustain wounds that will not heal, particularly if your cover was breached.”
That sent him around to face Rafiq as he struggled to suppress his fury over the reminders of his downfall. A tragic event that had set his life-long course. “I learned from my mistake many years ago, and since that time no one has learned my identity. As far as my safety is concerned, that is a risk I take to fulfill my duty to this country.”
Rafiq leaned back in the chair situated behind the massive desk and streaked a palm over his goatee, seemingly unaffected by the ire in Rayad’s tone. “You go beyond the limits of risk-taking, cousin, as you continue your futile quest for elusive killers that you will most likely never find.”
Bordered on losing control, he braced his palms on the edge of the desk and leaned forward. “I will never stop searching until I locate and punish those responsible.”
Rafiq raised a brow. “And if you do not find them?”
He straightened, hands fisted at his sides. “I will die trying.”
“And that, Rayad, is exactly what I fear will happen if you do not reassess your goals. I have accepted that I will never know the true circumstance behind my mother’s death. I have also accepted Rima’s death was no fault of my own.”
“My situation is very different, Rafiq. You speak of a possible accident or suicide. I speak of murder.”
“Some answers are not meant to be known, but life is meant to be lived. You should rebuild yours as I have. You should honor your royal heritage by continuing the legacy with an heir.”
A concept that was not feasible in light of the tragedy that remained foremost on his mind. “Unlike you and your brothers, Rafiq, my duties prevent me from considering taking a wife and bearing children.”
“I am ruler of our country,” Rafiq said. “Zain has established a water-conservation system that will secure Bajul’s future. Adan is the commander of our armed forces. We have all been successful in our endeavors to bear children and keep our wives satisfied.”
Since Rayad’s recent arrival at the royal palace, all signs pointed to that success every night during the evening meal when he had been subjected to several miniature Mehdis, and Maysa, the king’s very pregnant wife. “I commend you on that achievement, Rafiq. However, I am personally not interested in attaining domestic tranquility.”
Rafiq narrowed his eyes and studied him a lengthy moment. “Are you so lost in your thirst for revenge that you no longer crave the company of a woman?”
“I