The Royal Pain (8 page)

“W
hy, Dr. Rivers,” she said, staring.

“Now, it's not what you think,” he began.

“Really? It's not? Because I'm thinking you're a man just full of surprises.”

“Okay, thanks.” He was still holding the cuffs up, watching them spin lazily. “What I was afraid you were thinking was that I was some big old perv.”

She laughed nervously. “No, I wasn't thinking that.”

“Okay, and I know it's a big step for us, and you more than most people have to worry about, you know, the Paris Hilton effect and all that—”

“You've got a video camera in there?” She tried to figure out if she was horrified, or interested. “I'm dying to see what else you carry around with you.”

“No! No no no. I'd never ask you to do that. Do it on camera, I mean. Like I said, you more than most people would have to worry about it getting out. Although these things don't just ‘get out',” he added in a mutter. “The asshole ex-boyfriend sells her out, is what—okay, we're getting off the subject.”

“And the subject was bondage?” She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him like an attentive pupil.

“Uh, yeah. And a change of clothes.”

“What? Sorry, I'm having a little trouble following you.”

“In my pack.” He held the bag open and showed her; she could see a glimpse of white cotton, denim, and buttercup yellow. “I got you some souvenir T-shirts.”

She laughed. “Thank you.”

“Welcome. I also brought a change of clothes. In case you, uh, we decided to spend the night. That I could spend the night.”

“One thing at a time, doctor. I'm pretty sure,” she mused, “that I don't know you well enough to let you cuff me to the headboard.”

“That reminds me.” He dug through the pack and she heard the clink as he held up the second pair. “Okay, don't freak out, but because it's a headboard, we need two pairs. Otherwise you're lying on your hands and I don't think that'd be very comfortable.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” she observed.

He blushed. Blushed like a kid! His cheeks went red and his eyes seemed to get darker. “I've never done this before. It just seemed logical, the hand thing. You're the only girl I ever wanted to tie up.”

“Oh, Dr. Rivers!” To cover her extreme nervousness, she folded her hands over her breasts and looked up at him adoringly, batting her eyelashes. “That's so sweet.”

To her relief, he laughed, and some of the high color left his cheeks. “Yeah, yeah, very funny. But I really haven't.”

“In that case, I'm dying to know…where did you get two pairs of stainless steel handcuffs in Minot? You didn't—” She nearly vomited as the thought struck her. “You didn't ask my security team for them, d—”

“No. God, no, I'd never do that. Didn't I just get done telling you I was sensitive to your needs, as a celebrity, not to be sexually embarrassed on the World Wide Web? Or anywhere?”

“So where did you get them?” she asked, calming down.

He grinned at her. “Some things,” he vowed, “will never be told. Suffice it to say, there are some interesting people frequenting the sex shop in this town.”

“And I bet they all have doctorates.”

“I'm assuming, from all the joking, that you haven't done this with anyone either?”

“Not hardly,” she said, watching him spin the cuffs on the end of his right index finger. “I was nervous enough about losing my virginity, and I was nineteen when I got around to
that
.”

“Well, here's what I'm thinking. Think fast.” He tossed her a pair and she caught them by reflex. Out of pure curiosity she studied them. Yes indeed, stainless steel and very sturdy. “I think it's a control issue. With you. And not coming.”

“Oh boy,” she said, flopping back down on the bed.

“Hear me out! I think if you gave up a little bit of control, you might have a better time. That's all. It's an experiment. If it works, great. And if it doesn't—”

“You got a money-back guarantee?”

He laughed. “No. I guess I'll throw them away if it doesn't work.”

“Shel.” She sighed. “I told you it wasn't a problem for you to fix.”

“Well, I'm a fixer,” he said cheerfully. “I figured, we start out slow, and if you don't like it, we're done.”

She studied the cuffs again. “I can't believe I'm even thinking about this.”

“Well, you're right in that we haven't known each other very long, but how many girls have a team of highly-trained bodyguards in the next suite, ready to kick the living shit out of me if I forget the safety word?”

She burst out laughing. “I hadn't thought about it like that.”

“Which is
Dendrochirus zebra
, by the way.”

“What?”

“The safety word.” At her confused (possibly aghast) expression, he hurried to explain. “You know, in case one of us takes it too far by accident. It's got to be a word you wouldn't use in everyday conversation.”

“Everyday conversation! What the hell does it even mean?”

“It's the Latin name for zebra lionfish,” he explained, in an “everybody knows that” tone.

“How about just zebra? I don't use that too much in everyday conversation.”

“Well, okay, I guess, if you think—” He did a comical double-take, just like in an old comedy. “You want to? You'll give it a try?”

“Yeah, why not? Being cuffed isn't as scary as trying to remember
Dendrochirus zebra.
”
Or watching your father get shot,
a tiny voice in her mind spoke up, and she stomped on it like a bug, made it gone. “You had a point about my guards, anyway. Try anything fishy, and you're shot, clubbed, or stabbed. Possibly all three.”

“That's so romantic. And it's
DEN-drochirus
,” he whispered, taking her in his arms.

B
y the time they had stripped and he had carefully cuffed each of her wrists to a section of the barred headboard, she was shocked to realize how excited she was. And when he slipped a hand between her thighs, he was shocked too, she saw at once, and the blood rushed to his face again—but not out of embarrassment. No indeed.

Then she couldn't see his face any longer as it disappeared between her legs, as he licked and kissed away the wetness she had made, they had made. His tongue was stabbing into her; it was like a knife that didn't hurt, one made of sweet darkness, one she felt all over.

She could feel his bristly cheeks—he hadn't shaved that day—rubbing against her inner thighs, felt his hands stroking her outer thighs, rubbing them restlessly, ceaselessly.

So much for starting out slow,
she thought, and that made it more exciting, which she hadn't thought possible. That he couldn't. That they couldn't. That he'd dived between her legs and she didn't mind, that he hadn't gone near her breasts or her mouth and she didn't mind, that she was about to…to…

No, she didn't do that anymore, it was further off, it was a trick, just her body tricking her again, making her think she would sleep, making her think she wouldn't dream, making her think she could come with just a minute of tongue and stainless steel, no, she wouldn't, she…was…coming.

She screamed and groaned at the same time, shoving herself closer to his mouth, his dark sweet mouth, and he stabbed her, he stabbed her, he was…coming up between her legs, his broad chest settling against hers, his hands on her thighs, spreading them apart, and he slipped into her like she was made of oil and she screamed again, into his mouth, screamed and thought
oh I am dying.

He shuddered against her and she wrapped her legs around him and held on, and felt her long-gone friend, that black flower, blossom inside her once more.

“Oh, Christ!” he cried, and she knew his friend had come for him, too.

“C
hrist,” he said again.

“Sing it.”

“That was—”

“Testify.”

“I can't believe—”

“
You
can't believe?”

“I mean, you were
so
wet. And I was totally ready. I was going to blow up all over you if you weren't ready, I swear to God.”

“What a charming thought.” She laughed. Then she shocked herself (and him) by bursting into tears.

“Oh, Alex—”

“Unhook me,” she sobbed.

“Sure, sweetie, right now.” He had the keys in his hand in half an instant, and in two clicks she was free and he was holding her. “Did you, uh, forget—”

“No, I didn't forget the stupid fucking safety word,
Dendrochirus zebra
, there, are you fucking happy?”

“Sure, honey. It's all right.”

“I don't even know why I'm crying!”

“Okay.”

“Because I just had a great time, everything's great! And I'm not upset about
anything
.”

“Okay, hon. Okay.”

“It's just that I'm tired,” she wept.

“Of course you are. And hungry. We skipped supper and I didn't bring any Ritz, remember?”

“Some kind of lousy date you are,” she said, snuggling into him as he kissed her tears away.

 

M
uch later, after she'd gotten hold of herself, she said, “Now, don't be smug.”

“Never.”

“I mean it! You're radiating ‘I cured her I'm so smart' vibes and it's going to really tick me off.”

“That was a great time,” he sighed, staring at the ceiling. He had laced his hands together behind his head, and she was resting the heel of one of her feet on his left knee. “Really, really great.”

“Really, really?” she teased. “That's some vocabulary you've got, Dr. Rivers.”

“And I'm spending the night, so just freak out about it now and get it over with.”

“Uh…”

“Alex.”

“It's just…if someone gets a picture of you on the way out tomorrow…”

“So?”

“Well, they'll print stories about you. And chances are, none of them will be true.”

“So?”

So indeed. Did she care? The press would jump to inane, incorrect assumptions, but that was their job, and she didn't mind, did she?

No, it was the spending the night thing.
That
she minded.

“Look, Alex, I don't give a crap if the
Minot Daily News
puts my picture on the front page, or even the back page. Or if they sell the pic to
People
or whoever. I really don't care. I just want to be with you, okay? I don't want to fuck and run.”

“Well,” she lied, “I don't want you to.”

“Oh.” He'd clearly been expecting more resistance, but she couldn't think of a way to make him leave without hurting his feelings. And after the gift he'd just given her, it would seem…churlish. To send him away. To sleep alone. Not that she would sleep, of course. At least, not for long.

“I'm just saying,” he said, picking up one of her hands and kissing the palm, “I'm looking for more than a good time with you, that's all.”

He was heartless, the way he terrified her! What a cool bastard. Unless he wasn't trying to scare her. Which was even more terrifying. “Well, thanks,” she said, aware of how lame it sounded, but completely unable to think of a more appropriate response.

“N
icky!
Nicky, get down!”

Hands on her, shaking her. Not hurting her. Where was the gun?

My father is the true king.

You've fucked up, it's done.

You shot my daddy.

Don't worry, Nicky.

“Nicky!”

I'm going to fix him. I'm going to fix everything.

“Alex, will you wake. The fuck. Up.”

She opened her eyes and said to the dark, “He's not dead. Not really.”

“He sure is, sweetie. The way I heard the story, you bashed his brains in.”

It was Sheldon. In the dark. With her. Had she—

“Oh, God,” she groaned. She tried to cover her face, but he gripped her wrists and held them, gently but firmly. “I'm so embarrassed! Did I wake you? Was I
screaming?
” She could not have been more humiliated if he'd hit her. “I never do that, never! I—”

“Hey, it's all right.” Lie. She could see, now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark, the beads of sweat on his forehead. She'd scared him, and badly. “I'm just glad you're awake. Which is an awful thing to say to an insomniac, I know.”

“I can't believe I—let go.” He did, and she sat up and observed her hands were shaking. “I can't—believe I did that. I'm so sorry. I didn't—”

“Alex, it's no big! Will you just relax? I've seen the look on your face when you come, tied you up, had my tongue in your mouth and everywhere else,
and
used your toothbrush, but you're embarrassed about this?”

“Extremely,” she said hollowly.

“God, what a moment!” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “Look, it's no big deal, it was just sort of terrifying to be sound asleep and then hear you practically screaming. I mean, I was looking for a bunch of Marines or zombies or something.”

“Don't remind me.”

“That's why you can't sleep? You keep having the same dream over and—”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Well, too bad.” He said it reasonably enough, and she glared at him. “Look, it's not like we can roll over and go back to sleep, right? I mean, you're probably done for the night…” He squinted at his watch. “You got all of an hour and a half. And frankly, my pulse is about one-eighty right now from the adrenaline rush. So let's talk about this.”

“I have a shrink, Shel. Your duties are entirely different.”

His brow wrinkled. “Duties?”

Yes! Offend him and he'll leave!
“You heard me.”

“Okay, whatever. Listen, getting back to this recurring nightmare—”

Dammit!
“Sheldon, aren't you insulted? I just implied you're about as important to me as my father's footmen.”

“You can't pick a fight and get rid of me that easily,” he said with irritating smugness.

“Well, we're not talking about me unless you tell me deep dark secrets about you.” He was, in his own way, as closed off as she was, and surely this would—

“Done. I hate royalty, inherited wealth, brunettes, and cheese.”

She was utterly distracted. “What? You
hate
them? Brunettes and cheese? Why?”

“Your turn. Why do you think you keep having that dream?”

She paused a moment, but a deal was a deal. And she just had to hear about the cheese. “Well, according to my shrink, it was the first time in my life, my very scheduled and controlled life, that something happened that was completely beyond my control. I fixed it, but it might not have worked. It might have ended even worse than it did. That's what haunts me. Not what I did. What could have happened. My little brother—my king! And Chris and—and—she might have been pregnant at the time, so Dara would have—it could have been so much worse. And might be. Someday. Because maybe next time I can't fix it. You know?”

“What about—I don't mean this in a mean way, but what about when your mom died? Car accident, right? You couldn't control that, either.”

“Yes, but it didn't happen right in front of my face. I wasn't even there. And everything that happened after—the mass, the funeral, the burial, the visitations—was scheduled. Controlled. And I—I didn't see much of her. When she was alive, I didn't…” She paused. “Now, about cheese.”

“Have you ever seen a slice of artisanal cheese under a microscope?” He shuddered. Actually shivered like a kid hiding from a storm. “It's alive! That's why you're not supposed to wrap the good stuff in plastic wrap. It suffocates. It's alive!”

“Okay, okay,” she soothed, because he looked ready to leap off the bed and out the window. A bad choice from six stories up. “Well, we won't serve any of it. Not even the cheap stuff.”

“It moves,” he said darkly. “It
wiggles.
”

“That's terrible,” she said, totally straight-faced. Her years of poker playing were serving her well. Cheese! Ha! “And what have you got against brunettes?”

“Oh, the gal who turned me down for prom had brown hair, and I had a huge crush on her, and I'd been screwing up my courage for, like, two years, waiting to be old enough, and she turned me down flat. So ever since then I've tried to stick to blondes and redheads. But in your case, I made an exception.”

“Thank you so much. And what about—”

“My turn, thanks. Did you, uh, have to go to jail or even get arrested or…” The amused look on her face was answer enough. “Okay, dumb question. I guess when you kill a guy defending your country and the monarch, they overlook manslaughter.”

“They do,” she said soberly. “If I hadn't killed him, he would have been beheaded. That's still the law on the books in my country.”

“Civilized.”

“More so than the electric chair,” she snapped. “You Americans! ‘Our way is the best way and if you don't like it, move over.' Very nice!”

“Okay, okay, let's not get into that…I mean, we can't help being the greatest country in the world, but that's not—”

“I bet I know why you don't like inherited wealth.”

“Go ahead, Dr. Freud.”

“You said you were an Army brat, right? So virtually everything your family made in terms of money was paid by taxes, right?”

“Well, not exactly—”

“So here's your family, defending your country and getting paid next to nothing to do the job, while the rich assholes who are supposed to pay their fair share of taxes get a million shelters and only pay a fraction of what they owe. Right? That's how it is in this country, isn't it?”

“More or less,” he said grudgingly. “It's a little more complicated than that.”

“We have a flat tax in Alaska,” she explained, trying not to sound smug.

“Well, bully for Alaska.”

“Everybody pays exactly the same percentage. It works out really well. If you came to visit—if you ever wanted to come—you'd see the roads and bridges and hospitals are all in good shape. We've got plenty of money for infrastructure.”

“Well. I'm pretty busy here. I—I'd like to visit but I'm not sure when I could—”

“Forget it.” She paused. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I'm impressed, is all. I mean, you weren't kidding around when we first met. You
really
didn't like me. I might as well have been wearing a cheese bikini.”

“It sort of took me by surprise,” he admitted. “You being so pretty and funny and fearless. I was expecting a snob who wouldn't talk to anyone.”

“It's irresistible,” she said, pouncing on him, “that you didn't like me.”

“I think,” he said as she leaned down to nibble on his mouth, “you should up your visits to the shrink.”

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbled.