Page 26 of Deadly Betrayal
“Wasn’t sure I should.”
“You should,” Shahram and Azita said at thesame time.
Kaden nodded. “Will you help me?” he askedAzita, his knees turning to rubber at the thought of her handsmassaging his scalp.
“Of course.” Taking the package, she marchedinto the little alcove.
Shahram hurried after her. “My sister, stop.I cannot let you touch him so intimately.”
“Very well,” she said, handing him thepackage. “You do it.”
Eyeing the package, Shahram curled his lip,making Kaden laugh. Azita shook her head. “I will wear gloves. Doesthat satisfy you?”
“No, but it seems we have no choice.”
Shooing Shahram out of the alcove, Azitaturned to Kaden. “Please bring a chair.”
Doing as he was told, Kaden grabbed a chairin one hand and set it near the washstand, facing the room’s onlymirror. Azita stood behind him and placed a towel around his neck.After opening the package, she slipped on the pair of plasticgloves and, following the instructions, mixed the dye. Once it waswell combined, she began separating his hair into sections, whichshe secured with the bobby pins she used to hold her headscarf inplace.
Kaden gritted his teeth against the shuddersthat wanted to tear through his body. His head had always been arather erogenous zone.
Shahram leaned against the wall, hisexpression grim. “This is not right.”
“Duly noted.” Azita started to apply the dyeto his hair.
“Azita has it under control,” Kaden added,keeping his hands strategically placed on his lap. It was a damnsight more than he could say for himself.
Shahram’s lips thinned. “And that is anotherthing. You should not call her by her name.”
Seriously? Even after spending years inAfghanistan, he’d never understood their naming structure. Afghansonly had one legal name: their first. If they took a second name,it was either their father’s, their husband’s, or one that referredto their tribe, but it wasn’t official and could change on a whim.“What should I call her?” He looked up at Azita in the mirror. “Ithought in my role as your husband, I should use your givenname.”
“What my brother is referring to is an oldAfghan tradition. We rarely use proper names when speaking to oneanother. Many married couples call each other by the name of theireldest child. Children are referred to by their father’s name. So Iwould bedokhtareBashir, Bashir’s daughter.”
As a rule, Kaden had called all menagha, sir, followed by their name. And if he had to discussa woman, he referred to her askhanom, lady, unless toldotherwise. He should have followed his own damn rule. Shit. “I’mtruly sorry. I never meant to offend you.”
The tinkling of Azita’s laughter rolled downhis back, making him break out in goose bumps. “I am not offendedat all. It is a complicated system, and we all make mistakes atsome point.”
“So I should call you,dokhtareBashirand you”—he looked at Shahram—“pesareBashir?”
She grimaced. “I spent most of my growing upyears in Iran. I have become accustomed to hearing my name. Itmakes me feel invisible to be known only as my father’sdaughter.”
“At the clinic, they call you Doctor Azita,right?”
A smile lit up her face. “They do.” Sheapplied some dye to the other side of his head. “When we are alone,I am Azita. When we are in public, you will saykhanoman, mywife, and I will call youshawharam, my husband. No one willobject to that.”
Warmth spread in Kaden’s chest on hearing hersay “my husband,” and that warmth terrified him. He’d neverentertained the idea of getting married, of having a family. He’dkept all his previous relationships at arm’s length and had alwaysskipped out when things got too hot. Why now, then, did this feelso right when the situation was so hopeless?
Azita tapped his shoulder to get hisattention. “Time to rinse. We will do your brows and beard after.”She indicated the bowl in front of which she’d placed a secondtowel.
Kaden knelt on the floor, putting himself atjust the right height to settle over the bowl. Using a plastic cup,Azita poured water on his head, alongside his neck and ears. Herfingers, even covered in cheap plastic gloves, felt likeheaven.
I can handle this. Just think of all thecold wet days you spent in the mountains.
Satisfied that he’d controlled his body’sreaction to Azita’s proximity, he relaxed against the washstand.When the water ran clear, he moved to stand up. Her restraininghand against his back froze him in place. “Time for theconditioner,” she said. Arrows of lust shot to his groin. Was heimagining the huskiness of her voice? “Shahram, please empty thebowl outside.”
When Shahram left the room, Kaden blew out inrelief. It was hard enough to survive her hands on him withouthaving her irate brother standing guard. He sank back onto hisknees, but almost lost it when Azita dropped the gloves onto thewashstand. Her gentle fingers massaged his scalp as she spread theconditioner, kneading from his forehead to his nape. Deep shudderswracked his body as tension flowed out of his head to his cock.With just the touch of her hands, he was hard enough to drillbolts.
“Feels good, does it not?” she murmuredconspiratorially.
