Текст книги "A Secret Birthright"

Автор книги: Olivia Gates

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 10 страниц) [доступный отрывок для чтения: 5 страниц]

Her heart jumped. He understood. That she needed to know what he’d seen with his own eyes, fixed with his own hands. That only specifics would make it all real.

“The defect was long and the tethering was more than I’d hoped. The meninges were also prolapsed. But I corrected it all with a procedure I have been developing. It takes double the time of any other procedure—yes, that’s why I took longer than projected—but it ensures no scarring and no future retethering. The nerve roots were minimally damaged, but with Ryan’s fast growth, and the sites of the tethering, progressive damage would have occurred within the next months. So your persistence couldn’t have been more warranted, and the timing of the surgery couldn’t have proved more critical. Now, with physiotherapy and a four-month course of your drug, Ryan should regain his legs’ full power and sensation, and I don’t expect there to be any problems with toilet training.”

Tears welled up again as the certainty she’d needed seeped into her bones. “I—I can’t find words to thank you.”

He grimaced. “Then don’t go in search of any.” He tapped her plate with his fork. “Now eat. You need to be stocked up on as many calories as you can to be there for Ryan in the coming time.”

She ended up finishing a three-course meal.

But taking a leaf from his repertoire, she specified a reward in return. Letting her see Ryan as soon as she was done.

He’d finally succumbed, telling her she drove a hard bargain.

She’d been standing for what felt like hours behind the glass partition in pediatric ICU, gowned for the sterile zone, watching Ryan sleeping in a cot that looked like a space pod, her tears streaming. Ones of pure relief.

Even though it drove a hot lance through her heart to see Ryan’s little body hooked to leads and invaded by drips and tubes, she knew one thing beyond a doubt: he was all right.

Fareed had been sharing the poignant vigil in silence.

He finally inhaled. “And Ryan invalidates my worries again. He looks as if he’s sleeping in complete contentment.”

“H-he probably is,” she whispered. “He must feel how much care he’s receiving, must have felt how much you’ve done for him. He might be relieved for the first time in his life now you’ve corrected h-his problem.”

“Everything’s possible, especially with a child as sensitive as Ryan.” He turned her to him, wiped a tear that was trembling on her chin. “Now go say welcome back to your baby.”

She gasped. “Oh, God…really?”

He nodded, his smile a ray of delight illuminating her world.

She streaked into the ICU. He followed at a slower pace.

He stood back patiently, let her fondle and coo to the sedated Ryan until she turned to him with tears mixing with unbridled smiles. Then he checked Ryan, discussed his management with his ICU staff, before escorting her out.

He took her to a suite on the same level as his office. The sitting room overlooked the same view that had stunned her from his windows, from a different viewpoint, with the magic of the capital now shrouded in another dawn. She could barely believe it had been just a day since she’d set foot in Jizaan.

He took her by the shoulders. “I recommend another fourteen-hour sleep marathon. Or at least eight. Don’t wake up sooner on Ryan’s account. I’m keeping him in ICU for twelve more hours.”

“But you said you’d let him out in a few hours!”

“And the concrete numerical value of ‘a few’ is?”

He was teasing her again. But now she knew in her bones Ryan would be all right, she found herself attempting to tease back.

“The world doesn’t know how lucky it is that you decided to use your inexorableness for good. But even though you’ve benevolently steam-rolled me on every decision and I’m now forever in your debt, this—” her gesture encompassed the superbly decorated, all-amenities, expansive suite “—is going too far. Between here and the guest apartment at your place, you’ll spoil Ryan and Rose so much that I might have to find us a new place when we return home.”

Interest flared in his eyes. “Where is home? We never got around to talking about that.”

She almost kicked herself. She’d just given him an opening to delve deeper into her life and everything she wanted kept hidden at all costs.

Panic surged. If she told the truth, he’d put things together sooner rather than later. If she lied, rather than omitted the truth, as she had done so far, apart from when she’d had to lie about Ryan’s father, those same powers of observation would see through her. But she had no choice.

A lie was potentially less catastrophic than the truth.

Feeling it would corrode her on the way out, she opened her mouth to deliver it…and his pager went off.

She almost sagged when he released her from his focus.

Then her breath caught. He was frowning at his pager.

“Is it Ryan?”

He raised his eyes at her question, gave a lock of her hair a playful tug. “No, Gwen. Ryan is fine and will remain fine. It’s just another emergency. Now have mercy on me and sleep. I’m exhausted already and it’ll be a while before I get any rest. Don’t add to my burdens. I’ll know if you’re not sleeping.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned away.

The door closed behind him in seconds. But she still felt his presence surrounding her, making her world secure, and life no longer a setting for anguish and struggles.

She could offer him nothing in return for the gifts he’d showered on her and her own. A chunk of her life wouldn’t suffice. But he’d asked her to make his easier by taking herself off his endless list of worries. Complying with his request was all she had to offer for now.

She found the bedroom, and with a moan, sank into the bed’s luxury, into the depths of thankfulness. For him, for Ryan’s cure. And for being saved by the pager.

She prayed she’d never be forced to lie to him outright again, until he discharged Ryan.

Once he did, she’d run, disappear, and he’d never know.

And she’d never see him again.

The joy that had begun to take root inside her drained. Tears flowed again as she prayed.

Let his obligations keep him away for as long as she had to remain in Jizaan. Let his loss start now.

Only that would save her from sustaining further injuries.

Seven

She should have known.

That anything she hoped for would happen in reverse. With the record of the past years, how had she hoped otherwise?

Apart from Ryan’s healing at a breathtaking rate, blossoming under Fareed’s comprehensive care, everything else was going wrong. Terribly wrong.

For the week they stayed in the center, Fareed was constantly present. She knew this wasn’t true, that he disappeared for hours but he came back so often, in her amplified awareness of him, it felt like he was always there, giving her no respite.

After dreading being in his place, where everything echoed with his feel and was soaked in his presence, she couldn’t wait to go back there. She hoped that with him at work during the day, and hopefully returning home exhausted, she’d see less of him. But for the following four weeks, the opposite again happened. He came home too often, too unpredictably, so she couldn’t brace for his appearance, worsening her condition at every exposure.

Everyone in the center had told her he made them feel he was omnipresent. She could well believe it. After the endless hours in the O.R., consultations, follow-ups and administrative chores, not to mention his duties as a prince, which he said he’d lately limited to steering the kingdom’s health system, as if that wasn’t huge enough, she couldn’t figure out how he had time for her. Not to mention had a life. A private life…

Her throat tightened as it did each time that thought forced its reality on her. It was ridiculous to feel that way, but still…contemplating the horde of glamorous women who no doubt pursued him, of whom he took the most voluptuous and beautiful to bed…

Peals of laughter, masculine and childish, wrenched her mind away from the images, only for different ones to superimpose themselves. The images that would be engraved in her mind, seared into her soul forever. The sight of Fareed and Ryan together, bonding, reveling in each other.

But as painful as the sight was, it was also incredible. And worth any future suffering to live through.

Fareed was sitting with Ryan on the floor, in the middle of his mansion’s family room, wrapped up in their game, caressed by the warm, golden lights of polished brass sconces that illuminated the expansive space. The French doors leading to the massive terrace were wide open and the gauzy cream curtains were billowing in the desert’s cool evening breeze. The unpolished sand-colored marble floor was spread in hand-woven kilims and scattered in huge cushions covered with the same designs and vivid hues. Fareed had said those were the Aal Zaafers’ tribal patterns and colors, intricate combinations of stripes and rhomboids, in vibrant crimsons, gold and greens. He’d also said the room had never been used. Until them.

As if she needed more heartache, to know he’d been welcoming them in the place reserved for his future family.

Before they’d settled down for the evening here, they’d finished another physiotherapy session with Ryan. He’d turned another of the mansion’s rooms into a rehabilitation center, and had turned those uncomfortable, exhausting and sometimes painful sessions into Ryan’s most anticipated playtime.

Now he was playing catch with Ryan. After giving Ryan easy catches to get him excited and motivated, he’d throw one out of reach and have him eagerly crawling to fetch.

He was always thinking of another exercise for Ryan, another method to gauge his improvement. He’d made an art of helping Ryan enjoy it, participate wholeheartedly, and subsequently heal faster, develop more power and better coordination.

He now threw the soft red ball on the huge square table that paralleled the couch she sat on. Ryan hurtled after it, reached the table, then stopped, an absorbed expression painting his face as he contemplated his dilemma.

She transferred her gaze to Fareed. “Seems you’ve given him a challenge he’s not up to…yet.”

Fareed shrugged, his face spread in the warmth that messed her up inside. “He hasn’t given up yet. Let’s see what he’ll do.”

She nodded even as her heart constricted. Every cell in her longed to end Ryan’s frustration, give him the ball. But Fareed had been teaching her not to coddle him, to drive him to achieve his potential, and be as loving or even more so while at it.

Ryan finally approached one of the table’s corners. Then after some internal debate, pulled himself up in degrees until he unfolded to his feet, stood braced at its edge. Her heart boomed.

It was the first time he’d ever stood up!

Her eyes flew to Fareed. He looked as moved, his smile as proud as hers. But when she moved to get the ball for Ryan, he gave her an imperative “wait” gesture.

She waited. And under her disbelieving, delighted eyes, Ryan hooked his right leg, the one that had always been weaker, over the edge of the table and pulled himself on top of it.

Once there, he weaved through worked-silver plates, gleaming copper candleholders and glass planters like a cat, knocking nothing over. Once he reached his quarry, he grabbed it, waved it at her in delighted victory.

“You did it, darling,” she said, forcing back tears, her smile so wide that it hurt. “You got the ball because you’re brilliant and strong and determined and the most wonderful boy on earth.”

After a satisfactory dose of adulation, he remembered his playmate, the one he wanted to impress most.

Ryan reversed his way across the table, backed off its edge carefully. Once his feet touched ground, he plopped back down, catching his breath after the unprecedented endeavor.

Then he turned to Fareed, shrieking his triumph and throwing his trophy back to him.

He caught it, stuffed it beneath his arm and treated Ryan to a boisterous round of applause. Ryan zoomed to him, sought the haven of his arms. After having enough of Fareed’s validation, Ryan wriggled off and crawled away as if eager to resume their game.

Before following, Fareed spared her a glance, eyes twinkling with pride. “See? Nothing is beyond him. He’s creative and problem-solving and ambitious and he’ll always surpass your expectations.”

She barely stifled the cry. Stop surpassing mine! Stop making me want you more when I can’t even dream of you.

But it was already too late.

She’d come to depend on him when it was the worst thing she could have done. She couldn’t think of a time when he wouldn’t be in her life, their lives, when it was inevitable.

She’d fallen in love with him when it would mean destruction.

Yes, she loved him.

And she would have preferred it if he didn’t realize she was alive. But she could no longer escape what she’d known from the moment he’d captured her gaze at that conference. He’d made it clear, in a hundred nuances, what he wanted from her, that he was only waiting until any doctor/patient’s parent trace of their relationship had faded, to act on his desire.

His desire to have her in his bed.

And even though guilt and dread haunted her, this was the only place she wanted to be.

But it didn’t matter what she wanted. She couldn’t act on her desire. She wouldn’t.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t melted yet.”

Rose. Sitting right beside her and she hadn’t even noticed her come in.

Rose elaborated, “I’ve seen hunger blazing in eyes before, but the solar flares in yours…yowza!”

Her gaze moved nervously to Fareed, who was far enough away not to catch Rose’s comments. Thank goodness. If Rose had seen it, had he…?

Who was she kidding? He had. He knew he had her on the brink of mindlessness. And he’d been letting her know, subtly, inexorably, how he’d leave her no place to run when he made his move, how earth-shattering it would be when he claimed her.

She let out a resigned exhalation. “Don’t start, Rose.”

Rose repaid her with a fed up look. “Then why don’t you stop? Jumping away as if he scalds you each time he comes near?”

“What do you expect? The man has a magnetic field that could upset a planet’s orbit.” After a moment’s hesitation, she admitted, “He does scald me.”

Rose nudged her. “Then help yourself to his inferno, girl.”

She squeezed her eyes. “I can’t, and you know it.”

“So you’ve been mourning. Now enough.” Rose turned fully to her, scowling. “Let the dead rest and get on with your life.”

Gwen bit her lip, memories a shard embedded in her heart. “It’s not only mourning.”

“What else is it? Can’t be Ryan because Fareed is the best thing that has ever happened to him, present company included.”

“You’re talking as if Fareed is in Ryan’s life in anything more than a temporary way, when you know he’s just his surgeon.…”

“He’s not just his surgeon, and you know it.”

For a heart-wrenching moment, Gwen thought Rose knew. Who Fareed really was to Ryan.

But there was no way that she did. She hadn’t been in her life for the past five years, had missed all the developments and upheavals that had ripped through her life. Rose knew only what she’d told her once everything had been over. She didn’t know about Ryan’s parentage. And she must never know.

Rose turned her eyes to the man and baby who possessed Gwen’s heart. “I mean…just look at them.” Gwen didn’t want to look. It hurt too much. “Look at you. You’re burning for him.” Gwen averted her eyes, damned being so transparent. “Then look at him. He would devour you whole if you didn’t flit around like a hummingbird on speed.”

A chuckle burst out of Gwen. Only Rose could cut to the truth, yet make it somehow bearable, even lighthearted. “And you recognize the symptoms because you and Emad are suffering from the same condition?”

Rose wouldn’t be distracted. “Emad and I have nothing like the same condition. I don’t have melodramatic tendencies and I’m not letting self-perpetuated worries stop me from taking whatever happiness I can now. We’re free grown-ups with nothing to stop us from having whatever we want together. Apart from your baffling reluctance, I can say the same about you and Fareed.”

Gwen exhaled dejectedly. “I’m not free.”

“Because you’re a single mother? And I can’t fathom your position because I’m not? So enlighten me, what are women in your situation supposed to do? Sacrifice your personal lives at the altar of your children’s upbringing?”

Gwen stared sightlessly at the mansion’s gardens. She wished with all her heart that she could share her burden with Rose, that everything wasn’t so complicated, so impossible.

Why had Fareed of all men turned out to be the one who awakened the woman in her? And so completely, so violently?

To add to her heartache, Rose added, “And anyway, don’t knock temporary. You of all people know that nothing, starting with life itself, is permanent. Think about that and make up your mind.”

She swallowed a lump at another impending and permanent loss. “My mind is made up, Rose.”

Before Rose could counterattack, Fareed’s rich baritone curled around Gwen’s sensitized nerves, filling her with regret for what would never be.

He was walking toward them, with Ryan in his arms. He’d said, “I have an announcement to make.”

Her heart pounded so fast that she felt the beats merging like the wings of the hummingbird Rose had compared her to.

Fareed stopped before them, so beautiful and vital that a fist of longing squeezed her heart, stilled it into its grip.

“I’ve done and redone every test there is. And the verdict is in. This magnificent boy is on his way to a full recovery. I expect he’ll walk in a few months’ time.”

Gwen’s hands shot to her lips, stifled her soundless cry.

She’d been monitoring Ryan’s every notch of improvement obsessively, and from her experience with neurological progress, she’d been hoping for the best. But to have Fareed spell out such concrete conviction, put a time frame on it, made it all real.

Ryan would walk!

She raced with Rose to Fareed to drown him in thanks, to pluck Ryan from his arms, then from each other’s to deluge him in kisses. Ryan thought this was a new game and threw himself from one set of arms to another, giggling his delight.

But as Emad joined them and dinner followed, Gwen’s euphoria drained gradually.

She’d known the day when Fareed would announce the completion of his role in Ryan’s care was fast-approaching. She couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome. There was no better outcome. For Ryan.

For her…

It was clear from everything Fareed said and did that he thought this day would mark the beginning of that temporary inferno Rose had urged her to hurtle into. She knew it would only herald the end. She’d thought she’d be ready for it. She wasn’t.

As their “family” evening continued, Fareed’s nearness only made it harder. She couldn’t stop herself from feasting on his presence like it was her last meal.

And he made it worse still by no longer tempering the desire in his eyes, by barely touching his food, too, showing her that the only thing he hungered for was her.

For the rest of the evening, as she escaped his unspoken intentions, she struggled to convince herself that walking away would be survivable.

Gwen was suffocating.

Tentacles were tightening around her throat, cutting off air and blood, holding her back. Her arms reached out, but the tentacles jerked her tighter, immobilized her. The shadow she was reaching for tumbled in macabre slow-motion down the abyss.…

“No!”

She heard the shout ring out even as she felt it tear out of her depths…and her eyes shot open.

She jerked up, her hands tearing at the nonexistent noose.

It had been another nightmare.

Knowing that didn’t help. She still gasped, trembled, feeling like the day of the accident all over again. Crushed, torn, strangled by panic and helplessness.

In the months since, night terrors had plagued whatever sleep she’d succumbed to. During the day, anxiety attacks had dismantled her psyche. It hadn’t helped that she knew there had been nothing she could have done.

She stumbled out of the bed. It was 2:00 a.m. She’d barely slept an hour. No use thinking she’d sleep again tonight. She was afraid to, anyway.

She went to Ryan’s room, checked on him even though she’d heard his steady breathing over the baby monitor. She found him on his back, which he hadn’t done since the surgery, his arms flung over his head in abandon. She kissed him and he murmured something satisfied, melting her heart with thankfulness.

She went downstairs, roamed the seemingly deserted mansion, her steps as restless as her mind.

She felt Fareed all over, his scent clinging to her lungs, caressing her senses. And it wasn’t because this was his domain. She’d feel him across the world. And she would, for the rest of her life.

And now, it was over. There was no more reason to stay here. She’d take her tiny family and leave Jizaan in the morning.

And he’d never know how she really felt. But that mattered nothing. What mattered was that he never knew who she really was.…

“Do you know what you are?”

Fareed’s hypnotic tones hit her with the force of a quake.

She jerked around, her gaze slamming to the top of the stairs, the side leading to his quarters.

He wasn’t there. Had she imagined hearing him? Were her dread and guilt playing tricks on her?

Then his voice hit her again. “What I thought when I first saw you? A magical being from another realm.”

She almost sagged. He was here. And he hadn’t meant what she’d feared.

“And do you have any idea about the extent of my craving for you? How long it has gone unfulfilled? How much it has cost me to suppress it, to stay away from you?”

Each beat of her heart rocked her as a shadow detached itself from the depth of darkness engulfing the upper floor, taking his form. His body solidified, his influence intensified with every step. Then his face emerged from the shadows and she gasped.

Even from this distance, there was no mistake.

The ultra-efficient surgeon, the indulgent benefactor, the teasing, patient playmate was gone. A man of tempestuous passion had emerged in his place.

Making it worse was seeing him for the first time in what he’d been born to wear, an abaya that looked tailored of Jizaan’s moonless skies themselves.

And she had no right to his passion. She’d lose even the bittersweet torment of his nearness tomorrow. She’d never again feel as alive.

“You sensed me.” His voice reverberated inside her as he descended the stairs. “You knew I was coming to you, came to meet me halfway. You knew that I would no longer wait.”

Something snapped inside her. Her paralysis shattered.

She needed to tell him…something, anything of the truth, if only that of her feelings, her needs. To have something, anything of him. Just this once.

He quickened his descent as she moved toward him, the abaya billowing around him like a shroud of darkest magic. Her feet felt as if they were gaining momentum from his power, his purpose, that force that had entered her life to change the face of her world forever.

Then he stopped. At the platform where the stairs diverged, as if giving her a last chance to retreat.

She stopped, too, three steps beneath him, momentum lost, confessions fled. She looked up at him, overwhelmed. He was even more than she’d ever dreamed.

The obsidian silk abaya draped over his endless shoulders, pleated for miles to his bare feet, falling open over the perfection of his chiseled, raven hair-dusted chest and abdomen. The low-riding drawstring pants of the same color and material hugged his thighs, hiding none of the power of his muscles, or that of his arousal.

He seemed as if he’d stepped out from another time, a force of nature and of the supernatural, poured into solid form. But it was the fever radiating from him, the same one that raged through her, that shook her most—setting free the one confession she could make.

“I don’t want you to wait.”

Eight

Something unbridled flared in Fareed’s eyes.

Gwen’s breathing stopped. She stood mesmerized by the ferocity that ate her up, finished her. Now…now he’d descend the last steps separating them, sweep her up in his arms.…

But what he did stopped her heart. With shock.

She would have never expected that he would…laugh.

But he did. Peal after peal of pure male amusement.

His laughter mortified her even as it inflamed her.

What had she said or done that he found so funny?

Maybe it was her braid, mommy robe and fluffy slippers? And the cartoon character pajamas beneath?

God, of course it was. He must have gotten a good look at her and rethought his intentions. No wonder he was laughing.

All thoughts scattered as he moved, still laughing, until he was on the same step, bearing down on her with his heat and virility. Then he leaned down, put his lips to her ear.

“I just have one question—” each syllable, each feathering of his lips shot arousal right to her core “—will you ever stop surprising me?”

She raised confused eyes up to his, found fire simmering just below the mirth.

“You exhausted me at every turn,” he whispered, intimate, maddening, “contesting my every declaration, my every decision, the minor before the major. Then I tell you I’m taking you to my bed and you just…agree?”

Her gaze wavered as his eyes lost their lightness, flames rising higher. She shivered as her own fever spiked in answer.

Then to her amazement, she heard her voice, husky with hunger and provocation. “I didn’t exactly say I agree.”

He caught her around the waist, slammed her against his hard length. Her breath and heartbeats emptied against his chest.

Twisting her braid around his wrist, harnessing her by it, ferocity barely leashed with gentleness, he tilted up her face, his eyes now a predator’s excited by his mate’s unexpected challenge.

His next words poured almost in her gasping mouth. “You said better. You commanded me not to wait. Now I’ll obey you, ya fatenati. No more waiting, ever again.”

Then he bent and swept her feet from beneath her, cut her every tie to gravity and sanity.

She went limp in his hold, becoming weightless, timeless, directionless, as she lay ensconced in his arms. She burrowed into him as the world moved in hard, hurried thuds, each one hitting her with vertigo, the pressure of emotion almost snuffing out her consciousness, like that day lifetimes ago.

And that was before he pressed his lips to her forehead in a branding kiss. “Never stop surprising me, ya saherati.”

She almost blurted out that he was the enchanter, the sorcerer. She choked on the words. She hadn’t let on that she knew Arabic, couldn’t bear lying if he asked why she did.

Every anxiety vanished as he relinquished his hold on her and she sank in the depths of soft dark beddings, was shrouded by the golden warmth of gaslight and the intoxication of incense and craving.

Then he came down over her.

She moaned with the blast of stimulation, emotional and sensual, of her first exposure to the reality of him, his weight and bulk and hunger, the physicality of his passion.

He rose off her, slid her robe off. She felt a blush creeping up from her toes to her hairline as he exposed her pajamas.

“Bugs Bunny.” He shook his head in disbelief. “And if I find you arousing beyond endurance in this, I might not survive seeing you in something made to worship your beauty.”

She crossed her hands over her chest, burning with self-consciousness. “I know how I look in this thing. I picked it to match one of Ryan’s…”

“Answer me this other question, Gwen.” His hand unlocked hers, before imprisoning them over her head in one of his. “Will I always have to say something over and over before you consider believing me? Will you ever believe I only ever say what I mean?”

She felt her flush deepening. “It’s not you I’m doubting.”

“Then how can you doubt your own beauty, your effect on me? If anything, I’m holding back, not telling you what you really make me feel, what I really want to do to you.” His eyes flared with mock-threat and too-real lust. “I don’t want to scare you.”

She shook her head against the sheets. “You won’t ever scare me. Show me everything you feel.”

Her ragged words elicited a smile that was sheer male triumph and assurance. “Amrek, ya rohi—command me.”

Yet his hands trembled in her hair as they undid her braid, spread its thickness around her. Then he buried his face in it, breathed her in hard, let her hear in his ragged groans that he was at the mercy of his need for her as she was for him.

“I’ve wanted you, I’ve needed this…” He bore down on her harder, pressed all of him into all of her. “Your flesh and desire, you scent and feel, since the first moment I saw you all those years ago. I craved you until I was hollow. Now you’re here and you’ll be mine, at last, Gwen…at last.”

She whimpered her agreement, her eagerness. He swooped up to capture the sound, his lips taking hers in a hot, moist seal, enveloping, dissolving, his tongue thrusting into her recesses, in total tasting, in thorough possession.

She’d imagined this until she’d felt she’d be forever empty, too, if she never experienced it. But this far surpassed the imaginings that had tormented her. The power and profundity of his kiss, his feel and scent, and his taste…his taste…

He bit into her lower lip, stilled its tremors in a nip so leashed, so carnal that it had her opening wider, deepening his invasion.

Just as she felt she’d come apart, he severed their meld, groaned, “Gwen, habibati, hayaati, abghaaki, ahtaajek.”

She sobbed again as she pulled him back. He’d called her his love, his life, said he coveted her, needed her.

She knew those were the exaggerated endearments his culture indulged in. They didn’t have to be literally meant, and in those moments, were likely driven by arousal.

It didn’t matter. Just hearing him say those things was enough. And if it were possible to give him of her life to fill his needs, she would have surrendered it.

She surrendered what she could now, all of herself.

He swept her pajama top over her head, his arm beneath her melting her into his length, circling her waist, raising her against the headboard to bury his face into her confined breasts.

She moaned at seeing the dark majesty of his head against her, let her hands fulfill what she’d thought would remain a fantasy, burying them in the luxury of his silken, raven mane, pressing his head harder to her aching flesh.