“Maybe… maybe once I get out,” she said.
“I will wait for you,” he promised.
He pulled the door shut and couldn't help imagining what she would look like in the shower. Need hit him hard as he envisioned the elegant line of her back, her dark wet hair hanging down almost to her waist. A towel would hang from the towel bar on the door so all he would be able to see was the top of her buttocks.
Feeling like a voyeur, he leaned back against the door and gripped the handle. A knock at the suite's door jerked him back to sanity and he released a heated curse in Arabic.
“Dinner has arrived,” he called through the door in a hoarse tone.
“I’ll be right out,” she replied.
Junayd breathed deeply. He was behaving like a pre-teen who had finally discovered what the fuss about girls was all about. He was a doctor for crying out loud! He had more self-control than this. Another knock on the door forced him into action. He yanked open the apartment door and scowled at Harry.
“Bad timing?” Harry inquired with a raised eyebrow.
“Actually, it was perfect timing,” Junayd said with a wry smile as he reached for the tray.
“Always glad to be of help. Let me know if you need anything else,” Harry said with a chuckle.
Junayd watched the old man walk away with a little pep in his step. He shook his head. A movement on the door caught his attention.
He tilted his head and looked down at the doorknob. A little sign hung from it. He lifted it with one hand. The side that had been facing the hallway was blank and the side that had been facing the door read:Do Not Disturb.
He shook his head. The last thing he needed was temptation. He had enough of that already just thinking about Midnight.
Returning the sign to the doorknob with the blank side facing outward, he backed into the room with the tray. He shut the door a little harder than he meant to with the heel of his foot. Behind him, the signdanced wildly back and forth on the doorknob, just as unrestrained and chaotic as his thoughts.
Nine
Midnight paced back and forth in the bathroom. She glanced at the mirror every time she turned, only to grimace and look away. On the fifth pass, she stopped in front of the door and started counting to ten.
I can do this. I can go out there. I don’t need my mask. I’ll just tell him thank you for taking out the bullet and holding my hand, but this is goodbye, have a nice life.
She was mentally repeating what she was going to say as she pulled open the bathroom door. Junayd was standing on the other side with his hand raised to knock. His lips parted to say something—and every thought went out the window except how soft his lips were beneath her own.
She didn’t remember moving. One second she was rehearsing her goodbye, and the next her arms were around his neck and her tongue was deeply stroking his. Her moan harmonized with his groan.
The heat of his hand on her butt caused her to clench and heat up in other places. His other hand wrapped in her hair, and he slanted his head to deepen their kiss. When he captured her bottom lip and sucked on it, her hips ground into his.
“More,” she whimpered.
He broke their kiss, stepping away from her with jerky, retreating steps. His eyes were blazing with desire and somehow his shirt was unbuttoned and hanging open. She knew it had been buttoned before she began mauling him.
“Food… you need… food,” he breathed.
She frowned like he was speaking an unknown language as her eyes roamed greedily over his exposed chest. She had never wanted someone as much as she wanted him. She stepped forward, lifting her hand to touch his skin again.
He released a strained laugh, caught her hand, and lifted it to his mouth. Her breath caught when he brushed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. His eyes gleamed with delight, desire, and regret.
“I want you,” she said, unaware of the slight pout to her lips.
“I want you, too,habibi, but when is the last time you ate? You have been shot. Let me take care of you. You have not been doing a very good job of taking care of yourself,” he gently scolded.
“I gave my sandwich to Walt," she defended. "He needed it more than I did.”
“Who is Walt?” he asked. His lips were brushing against her hand as he spoke, which was sending a direct line of heat up her arm and down to the place between her legs. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have his lips teasing her there.
“Midnight… who is Walt?” he repeated.