To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(49)

“Are you sure you’ve had enough?”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Blood was pumping through every sinew of his body, fueling his thick arousal. “What spices did you say were in that cake?”

He stared at her lips as she answered. “Cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and a pinch of sage.”

“Sage?” So it wasn’t Tongkat? No, that couldn’t be right. He didn’t feel normal at all. She was a bald-faced liar. A beautiful, enchanting, bald-faced liar.

“Yes, just a pinch.”

A pinch? He’d like to pinch her nipples with his finger and thumb right now, while devouring her soft, plump lower lip with his mouth and tongue. He shut his eyes and pressed his fingers over his eyelids, trying to fend off an intense wave of lust, but it wasn’t working. He needed to get away from her before he did something he would deeply regret later, but how? He was certain that if he stood up right now, the enormous bulge in his pants would be painfully obvious. He had to figure out an escape, fast.

“Graciella, I’m not feeling well. Would you go ask Kitran to make me a cold compress for my head?”

Her eyes widened in dismay. “Oh dear…yes, yes, I’ll get her to make a cold compress right away!” She rose from her chair and hurried to the kitchen.

When she was out of sight, he shoved back from the table, nearly knocking over his chair, and turned to dash up the stairs before she returned.

Safely in his own darkened, chilly chambers, he barred the door and stripped off his shirt, then freed his swollen cock from the confines of his trousers. Cold air from a window wasn’t going to do the trick. He stood before the mirror on his washstand, bracing one hand on the wall behind it, and stroked himself urgently with his other hand. In a few seconds, he grabbed his damp towel to cover the tip as he climaxed. The erection only subsided a tiny bit, then immediately returned full-force. Damn it, Graciella. As her face floated in his mind’s eye, his cock throbbed, straining up towards his belly. He massaged it, closing his eyes, shivering with the need for another release.

There was a light tap at the door. “Yavi?” the lovely little liar’s voice came through the oak.

“Just a moment,” he bit out.

“Are…are you all right?” She sounded terrified.

“Give me just a second.” He stroked himself harder, until he came a second time, and then wiped his hands on the towel and re-fastened his trousers. He threw his shirt back over his head but left it untucked to hide his groin area, and strode to the door.

He moved the bar out of the way and opened the door to find her standing there holding a wet compress. He forced a smile. “I’m doing a little better now.”

“Did you—” She tried to see around him into his room, then glanced up at his face. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I think there must have been something in the cake,” he said, watching her reaction.

“Oh…something in the cake made you…sick?”

“Queasy, yes. But I splashed water on my face, and I think it’s passing now.” Bloody hell, Yavi, either grab her by the waist and kiss her right now, or make an excuse to get rid of her so you can breathe again. One or the other.

She blinked, her eyes reddening a little. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, don’t apologize. I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

She looked even more mortified, swallowing.

He pushed the door partially closed. “Anyway, I think I’ll retire early tonight. See you at breakfast?”

She looked down at the compress in her hands. “Yes. See you at breakfast. Sleep well. I’m sorry about the cake.”

It took everything in him not to throw the door open wide, scoop her into his arms, and soothe her guilt and fear with reassuring words, gentle caresses, and soft kisses. But if she’d dosed him up with Tongkat, it could only have been for one purpose, and that was exactly the purpose he wanted so desperately to avoid, for her sake.

“Please don’t worry about it. Good night.” He closed the door and left her standing there, his heart twisting into a painful knot. He barred the door to keep her from sneaking in again, and went to pour himself a cup of cool water. Perhaps he could flush out the Tongkat if he drank enough water tonight.

A few minutes and several cups of water later, he got a better idea. Katsuri. Drown this raging lust in sweet katsuri. Or at least get drunk enough to relax and find more humor in it. He unbarred the bedroom door, poked his head out to see if the coast was clear, then slipped into the hallway to head for his study and fetch the blue bottle.

§

Graciella threw herself on her bed, sobbing. She was humiliated, ashamed, and utterly horrified by what she’d done. He hadn’t gotten more amorous; he’d become physically ill, and all because she’d put too much of that wretched herb in his cake!

Shame on you, Graciella. You’re a terrible houseguest, a scheming conniver, a desperate trollop, and a liar. She’d fibbed to his face when he’d asked what was in the cake. The poor man knew there was something off about it. Why hadn’t she just confessed right then and accepted his disdain, his anger, and his disgust?

“Because I love him!” she cried into the filstoc fur.

Do you? a voice accused in her head. Does true love try to manipulate a man’s emotions like this?