𝕴 woke up in waves of sensation.

The earthy scent of Taimoor against my skin. The warmth of him at my back, his arm a comforting weight over my waist, the bed's luxurious sheets and comforter wrapped up around us to ward off the chill.

Every last ounce of energy in me had been leached away, my limbs were limp and capable of nothing more than the occasional twitch. My body sweetly ached from everything we had done last night. I tried not to focus on the feel of his hot skin against mine or how the weight of him reminded me of what it felt like when he was wedged between my thighs, too lost in my body to be careful what weight he put on me.

I didn't want to open my eyes.

I was sore, high on the afterglow, eyes half-lidded as I lay there. I felt myself tip eagerly against him, wanting more of his musky warmth, a heady mix of sex and secrets.

If I opened my eyes, I'd have to face reality, and I was not ready to step back onto the battleground. I never understood why a woman's virginity was considered to be such a big thing. Why it was owed to someone in the future and why it determined her worth. But now, I understood the true gravity of what I'd chosen to do. How I'd chosen to let him in me and not just physically, but in my head, heart, and my soul. Whatever happened in our lives, however, this new relationship worked out, I'd always feel the imprint of his kisses on my soul, could always sense the ghost of his whispered words on my skin, could trace the pattern of his touch on my flesh.

He would live and breathe within me.

Just like I would live and breathe for him.

Taimoor's arm tightened around me, his hand spreading to press to the spot just beneath my breasts.

"Morning."

Now there was no pretending any longer. We were both awake. And I was tired of staring at the same walls and swimming in my own twisting, dangerous thoughts. Upside down and inside out, they twined and separated and unraveled only to knot into bite-sized chunks of growing anxiety feeling Taimoor's indecision and need as though it were my own.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

And I was fine. I wasn't in any rush to get away from him. I don't know if that was comforting or terrifying.

With a wicked, arrogant smile, he'd dragged himself up the bed and gathered my limp body into his arms. He propped himself up and looked down at me.

"Are you sure?"

I blew out a breath."You've done a really thorough job."

"I'm nothing but dedicated," I closed my eyes and buried my forehead in his chest, so I couldn't see his satisfied smile I knew he was sporting on his face. The room swirled in front of me, my heart both sinking and soaring.

"Do want to shower first?" he said, groggily. My stomach fluttered.

"No, you can go ahead."

He grumbled, shifting and turning his face into my chest and releasing a groan."If you're sure?"

"Yup."

I forced myself to not watch him get out of bed and move towards the bathroom. Grabbing the sheet to my chest, I finger-combed my hair and stared at the ceiling. My careful wall of logic was crumbling around me.

What was I going to do? Hunting for a substantial cover, I grabbed his shirt from beside the foot of the bed and slipped it on. I walked a step and then groaned. My muscles ached...everywhere.

"All yours," Taimoor said from behind me.

Nearly jumping, I turned, red in the face. Taimoor stood there in low-slung sweat pants looking clean, perfect, and more relaxed than I'd ever seen him. My pulse quickened at the sight of him, but I was aware of how filthy I was, so I swallowed my want and shuffled to the suitcases in the corner.

"What's that sound?"

"I've drawn out the tub for you, thought you might like that after-"

"I think it's almost done."

He nodded and went to the bath, turned the handles on the tub, and shut off the water. The whole situation came across as intimate despite my bubbling anxiety. I grabbed for my toiletries and as if he sensed the hurricane of emotions moving through me, he exited the bedroom after giving me a quick kiss on the forehead.

I'd never felt more vulnerable or confused.

Eventually, my legs moved, and pulled off his shirt. Slowly, I sat in the marble bathtub with my knees bent, and I hugged them to my chest. I ached between my legs. It was impossible not to. The water was pleasantly warm, but not hot, and I was grateful as I huddled in it. The sting against my skin would have been worse if it had been hot.

The room was warm and humid from the running bath. Too much was swirling in my head. I was adrift with nothing to cling to. My hormones and my emotions were all sorts of vulnerable this morning, like a nerve exposed to air. Eyes slamming shut and I tipped my head back sinking beneath the surface.

How was this supposed to go? Was I supposed to be bashful? Hesitant? Bold? Finished, the towel I yanked down was thick and soft against my chilled skin, but it didn't offer comfort. I banded it tight around my shivering body and stared at the floor. The ache between my legs had dulled into a pleasant throb, helped by the bath, a soft reminder of how Taimoor had taken me. Last night had been a dream. This morning had come with a revelation. I couldn't stop staring at the large mirror over the double sinks in disbelief. I barely recognized myself. I didn't have any makeup on, and yet I looked like I did.

My brown eyes were richer in tone, my lashes black and long, my lips looked full and flushed, skin glowing. My hair was wild and streamed down past my shoulders, stopping just before the swell of my breasts. I squeezed the towel through my hair, drying it as best I could, then draped the luxurious fabric under my arms to cover myself, took in a deep breath, and stepped out into the bedroom.

Goosebumps pebbled on my skin, not from the cold.

We'd been so wrapped up in each other, I hadn't even managed to get a tour of the cottage. If cottages were two-story luxury houses. The bedroom we'd awoken in was timeless and elegant. The green and gold decor reeked of sophistication.

Wait...

Who had made the bed? Taimoor? Granted that it was extremely poorly made, the sheets from last night were tossed in the corner and the covers haphazardly folded at the edge. Even the pillows were placed in a strange manner.

And on that, a snow-white rose sat perfectly trimmed and placed on the pillow.

All at once, my chest loosened, my stomach unwound, and any embarrassment and fear evaporated.

Keeping the towel tight under my arms, I located my suitcase placed at the far corner, just inside the small walk-in closet. Opening up the suitcase, I rummaged looking for something demure yet fun. Finally, after much deliberation, my fingers plucked out an emerald-colored fabric that complimented my eyes and brown complexion. It gave my petite form definition, adding some curves and lines to my waist and breasts.

I adjusted the straps over my shoulders and surveyed myself in the long mirror. This would have to do.

By the time I exited the room, I looked like a woman who just had an unexpected sleepover but was still put together.

Dark wood, crown molding, and beautiful paintings decorated the long hall of closed doors and stairs to the right. My footfalls were quiet on the plush carpet as I wound down the curved hallway.

The whole house was impressive.

Daylight from oversized windows glanced off of the tiered antique chandelier, positioned over a gorgeous wooden inlay in the hardwood floor. I traipsed past the beautiful dining room that had a small seating for six and turned into a gourmet state-of-the-art kitchen. A divine smell drew me into the kitchen to find Taimoor finishing up with heating potatoes, peppers, and fried eggs. There was a table tucked to one side, which held two place settings, and a very serious Taimoor in the center.

The butterflies that I had been trying to control in my stomach fluttered to life just at the presence of this man.

"I don't know how you take your coffee," I looked where he was pointing to see a huge stainless-steel espresso maker ready to go, already bubbling dark liquid into a clean glass container.

"I don't. I drink tea."

"Oh," he scratched the back of his head trying to move around. "I asked the chef to stock the fridge. I just didn't know if you'd want fruits or bread?"

"Taimoor?"

"Yes?"

"This is fine," he shot me a look like I was being ridiculous but then he ended up searching for a pan and I fought back a smile. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I can make it."

"I like my tea a particular way... I'm extremely touchy about that," grateful for something to do, I opened the cupboards searching for a box of teabags. I walked over to him and gently set the plate down on the desk with a little push toward him.

The living area had floor-to-ceiling windows and French doors leading outside. This room, in particular, had an antique feel to it. The walls were in shades of cream and gold. Inky the furniture seemed new. A cream-colored couch with an orange-brown throw blanket draped over the back. An argyle rug of the same colors. A small antique desk and chair towards the corner.

Just beyond the sliding glass doors in the kitchen, and connected to another living area, was a wide patio and pool. Beyond that, the lawn sloped down and away to gardens that seemed otherworldly. The vine-covered stone entrance to the gardens was the only visible part from the floor to ceiling glass doors and we hadn't ventured that way. Giant wall-like hedges surround the rest of the property, giving complete privacy.

"This place is gorgeous..."

"Yeah. Got it on loan from a friend for a few days," he answered as he came over to me, his tall, wide-body looming over mine.

"Your friend has great taste."

"Believe me, I know. He stole this house from me. Went behind my back to woo the real estate agent," he shrugged.

"That's hilarious."

"Yeah well, I stole his company from him," then he straightened up, his hand dropping to my waist.

"You what?"

He gave me a small knowing smile, making him look roguish. "It wasn't too hard. Besides, he's over it now."

"Huh."

"I like this look on you," he murmured and gently reached out to run his thumb over my chin.

I swallowed, my throat feeling thick. "What look?"

"This one," he gestured to the air around me with his other hand."Where you're all relaxed," he went on, taking my lobe between his teeth and tugging lightly, his breath heavy."Tired?"

Before I could form the words, he pulled me back and sat on one of those untouched sofas. He draped the throw over my legs and sat beside me. The next thing I knew, he had my ankles and was pulling my feet into his lap. The blood flamed into my face as I lifted myself and tried to back away.

His hands landed on my bare feet. I jumped, but he held fast. "Relax."

"How do you steal a company?" my voice came off as nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

His thumbs dug into the arch of my foot, and my lips involuntarily parted. "You buy it out."

"So vague," he raised an eyebrow, but his concentration stayed on my foot in his lap.

I leaned back against the couch arm and folded my arms over my chest as he turned on the television to put on a movie. I stayed still enjoying a slice of domesticity that must be so mundane for everyday couples but that I wanted to encase forever in my memory because this, too, was irreplaceable. All these little moments with him were new and novel, and I was still trying to process all of them. I settled onto his back, draped half across his chest. This. This is what I needed. I could feel his heartbeat, his soft exhales against my skin.

Gradually, his soothing presence lulled my senses and I fell into a dreamless sleep.

Later that afternoon, Taimoor gave me a small tour of the gardens and walked on through the opening gate, the stone path no longer and grass beneath our feet. A stone walkway cut through the vibrant grass, framed by round hedges and flowers. I followed him behind a rosebush and then a large grouping of shrubs beyond that until we emerged into a slow-rolling clearing that caught my breath and expelled it all at once. Emerald grass danced in the air. The place was gorgeous, with rows of roses, their colors lush and jewel-like, while bushes of hydrangeas reached for the sun, and twisted vines of wisteria hung around the stone walls. Butterflies danced in the air, their wings shimmering in shades of cerulean and marigold and amethyst.

I stared as he unfurled a picnic blanket, placed the small basket on the grass, and gestured for me to sit.

"How did you plan all of this?"

"Impressed?"

"Concerned. Does this place have elves and pixies that I should know about?"

"No, but it does have an internet connection, and contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely clueless."

"Good to know."

It impressed me how he made an effort to make sure something nice was planned. When I just stared at him, he rolled his shoulders a little. The movement of his mouth ceased, and I feared my cheeks would pinken as those lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"Sorry, I wasn't-"

"Listening, yeah I guessed," he huffed out a laugh and laid back, catching the sun on his face. His face lit up from the bright light, exaggerating the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the strong cut of his jaw. His stubble was more prominent now, somehow making him even more manly as if that were possible. A breeze picked up, tussling the single strand of dark hair that was loose on his forehead.

My chest felt too tight.

"You're turning into quite a sneaky planner Mr. Mughal."

He laughed."Just trying my best."

He wasn't joking.

The next day, ocean mist hit my face as we got closer to the beach, and I loved every second of it. I hummed, something soft and slow, as I snapped some photos, my feet digging in the sand.

We'd spent the afternoon on the beach, had an incredible lunch, and swam to our hearts' content. Distant sounds and the soft swish of waves were the only interruptions to the comfortable silence.

Taimoor had been acting like I was made of glass. He'd placed another rose on the bed this morning, waking up before I did, and had surprised me with breakfast in bed. This time, making the tea exactly the way I drank it.

I looked down at my outfit, a simple cotton dress over a two-piece bikini. Even though this was a private strip, there was no chance of me walking around in it, even when my husband's eyes kept going to the single black straps digging into my shoulders every ten seconds. Turning, I soaked up his rock-hard jaw, the curve of his sensual lips, the arrogance of perfect features, and his eyes. Trapped within the imagery he inspired, I could do nothing but begin to burn and stare into those intense eyes.

He gazed back, waiting, watching, wanting.

His desire clouded the air I struggled to inhale, the musky wood growing thicker with every second, and I forced myself to blink. I licked my lips and his gaze held me hostage until I didn't know how much time was ticking past or if it was standing still.

I found my voice, barely, and found it was embarrassingly breathy, whispering."What are you looking at?"

"You."

He glanced away as he sat up, the muscles pulling taut along his chest and stomach in the process.

"Why?"

His eyes came back and took in every inch of me, as though they had missed roving over my skin, and goosebumps broke out over my arms."I enjoy looking at my wife."

Moving towards him, I stretched higher, the pressure of his mouth making a shiver run down my spine. He tilted my head to the side, slashing his lips more firmly across mine, and licked at the seams of my closed mouth, the taste of him filling the gnawing hunger inside me. I felt my lips part on a soft moan, and he took the invitation, swooping in, tangling his tongue with mine.

Taimoor's kiss was fire through my veins.

He pulled back, and I opened my eyes, taking in his lips, painted the shade of mine. He moved his thumb over my lips, the touch rough. I bit down and sucked, keeping my eyes steady on his.

His eyes flared and suddenly, I was flat on my back on the sand, legs tangling with his, Taimoor kneeling between them, his gaze so visceral it made something in my heart clench.

"Hi," I whispered, my chest heaving.

His lips tilted upwards. "Hi."

He leaned in and kissed my neck and I filled with the smell of him, mixing with the bracing sea air. I traced the shape of the scars on his back with a finger, brushing his shirt back so I could. Pressing my hand over his heart, his lashes trembled as his gaze searched mine. I couldn't deny how I felt anymore. It was not only attraction. I cared about him, whether I had any business caring or not.

"It's about to rain," he said, his hand releasing my chin and trailing down to my breast where his thumb slowly grazed across the fabric, my nipple hardening under his touch. His lips moved beneath my ear, and I hated the way my body automatically responded to him, like a puppet on a string. I could feel the bulge in his shorts pressed against my heat and knew I was probably leaving a wet spot over him.

My eyes fell closed and I tried to suppress a moan. A useless attempt.

I blinked when he carefully caught my hand and placed it over my still pounding heart, his fingers, his entire hand, overlapping mine. So large that hand, as it sat there a moment, and I lost the little control I'd had, finally meeting his grey eyes.

"Come on."

We'd barely gone inside the cottage when he leaned down to fuse his soft lips to mine, kissing me gently. Gripping his shoulders, I locked my legs around his waist as I rose onto my top toes. With one arm around my back, he reached out to steady me, pulling away.

"Aren't you sore?"

"It's been a day," I murmured, rubbing my hips against his arousal. "Stop worrying, I'm not going to break."

"Are you sure?" he gave my neck a light bite that had me shaking in his arms.

No, but we didn't have enough time. The moment we left this bubble that we'd created for ourselves, our lives would never be this peaceful. Chaos and responsibilities were waiting for us and for the life of me, I wanted to ignore them as much as I could.

I needed him.

He walked us backward until I bumped into the wall. A second later, his lips tore away from mine, going to my throat as if he couldn't get enough. He nipped my skin, and I gasped. He did it again, sucking and biting at my neck.

I couldn't stop myself from undulating against him, dragging myself greedily against the fabric covering him. With my dress hiked up at my waist, his hot length was pinned right against where I needed him. Even the barest film of my bikini bottoms and his shorts between us was too much.

Lightning flashed somewhere behind us, lighting up the entire area in a brilliant flash of white, and I watched his raw need spark.

"You're so beautiful," he said with a hoarse growl.

I arched, my breasts straining to be set free, my nipples pebbled so tightly they hurt. My stomach quivered as his hands slid over its soft curves to my stomach, pushing the fabric up and pulling it to the side. The sensation sent shivers shooting through my body, grabbing my breasts in heavy phantom holds and forcing my heart to race faster in my chest. My tongue darted over my lips, holding in my breath as he dragged one finger up the center of my dress before hooking it and yanking it down. I didn't even flinch as the material ripped free.

"You're ruining my clothes," I said with a low, sultry voice, not upset in the slightest.

I'd let him ruin every inch.

"Told you I was a monster," he said with a gravel voice, shoving the material wide, pulling the bra down so it was pushing my breasts up and putting them on display.

I yanked my legs tighter around him, jerking him forward with a grunt.

"Not a monster," I declared angrily and with an intensity that startled him enough to let me get my hand around his neck and pulled his lips to mine. "Mine."

With a moan, I lost myself in the kiss as the storm raged around us, just as violent with its purpose as I was with mine. I felt the feral noise from deep in his chest before it escaped his lips as his hand retreated from my breasts and forged a new path down between us.

A second later, he ripped the top away, tearing it straight from the middle, the scraps flimsy of fabric falling to the floor, giving him unrestricted access.

He rocked forward, kissing me softly as he slid in. I groaned into his mouth as he pulled out completely before pushing his fingers deep again. He was touching me in a spot I hadn't felt before. It was so deep and intense, my body burst into flames. He studied every minute move I made as his fingers pumped in and out and worked me into a frenzy.

"How does this feel?"

The haze in his eyes mirrored my own.

"This feels good," I confessed, releasing his hair so one hand could drift down onto his chest over his heart. "You feel good."

His eyes were filled with profane desire, and they were a loud plea for everything I could give. I saw his lips curl, a feral growl escaped, and thundered out over the house as it had come from the ravenous storm clouds above us. One moment his fingers were teasing me toward oblivion and the next, he was ripping the packaging, rolling the condom, the blunt head of him shoving through my entrance and filling me completely.

It hurt a little, but the pain was more discomfort rather than true pain as he eased himself inside me. The fit of him was a lot to handle, and it hurt. Yet it felt good. The stretch was achy, but it shifted into a new sensation as he pushed deeper inside, sealing the connection between us.

There was no more taunting. No more words. No more teasing.

He pinned my wrists above my head and began to thrust into me. My head fell back.

"Moor," I cried over and over again, losing every piece of myself to him.

"Watch us, babe," we both looked down at the same time.

The air changed. It thickened, deepened, and our bodies came together in a more profound way, fusing on a soulful level that transcended the lust burning between us. His eyes connected with mine, a darkening storm on the cusp of downpour within as he cupped me hard, and I shuddered. I raked my nails down his arms, urging him for more like I could scrape it out of him. My breasts flattened against his chest and he reached up, tucking a wayward lock of my hair behind my ear. His fingertips lingered, skimming down over my lips. When he lifted his head up to bring our mouths together, he began to move, changing the angle, pushing himself deeper.

Oh. My. God.

Each time the head of his erection rubbed against my front wall it shoved me closer to the edge, and I began to thrash wildly. My orgasm convulsed with my inner muscles clenching around him, sucking him deeper inside me. Deep inside me, his muscle flexed. He stayed wedged inside me, growing and swelling, spreading my body wider to allow him to sink even deeper before a hoarse roar vibrated against my breast, his teeth marking my flesh with the hot rush of his release.

It was long minutes before I sensed anything except the man buried inside me.

The thickness of his length, the warmth of his body, the sound of his ragged breaths. For minutes, my world existed solely of him and the way he clutched me to him like I was the last thing holding him here.

"I won't be able to walk," I confessed, feeling my tongue stumble thickly over the words.

"You don't have to," he grumbled slipping out of me tying and throwing the used condom away in the trash. Before I could get my bearings, I was swept up in his arms and taken to the bed. I relished in the feel of him, his muscles straining under my touch.

His smile drooped into something deadlier, then he lowered until his naked chest was almost pressing into the satin covering mine, and murmured. "We have plans for tomorrow, I'm taking you out."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Tired of playing house?" my lips parted, breath sailing between when his eyes dipped to them, then down to my chest. They returned to mine fevered, his nostrils flaring.

"With you?" he purred. "I don't think that's possible."

I gasped at hearing those words and the way his lower body fell into mine, my legs spreading before I could think better of it. I couldn't think. He erased everything rational, and the aggressive shine that deepened his eyes, causing the muscles to flex in the powerful arms on either side of my head, said he knew it.

"Little dragon," he said, voice hoarse. My hands grabbed his cheeks. My body arched into his. His eyes shuttered as he choked out. "Fuck," before slamming his mouth over mine.

"I'm beginning to think that's one of your favorite words."

"It's also one of my favorite things to do."

Fire filled every extremity, my heart an explosion of failed beats as his mouth pillaged and plundered, and it was all I could do not to melt into the feathered mattress beneath us.

༻✺༺

Despite my promise to be quick, I took a decently long shower and then put myself together, piece by piece. Subtle but flawless makeup. Hair dried and straightened. Smoothed some product over it that made it slightly sleeker. Slightly shinier. Stared at myself in the mirror while I tried to get my brain to work. I tucked a strand behind my ear. I could drive myself up the wall trying to anticipate what was happening and where he was taking me.

This felt momentous. Like something significant. Like I was about to jump off a cliff, without a parachute. 

The dress I chose was fit for anything. The red silk was cut with a scooped neck at the front draping over my neck. The back was nearly nonexistent, starting above the top of my ass with two crisscrossings that held the long floor-length fabric on either side rippled when I turned or walked. The sky-high red strappy sandals that came with the dress were enough to make my own heart flutter.

It was the naked hunger on his face when he saw me, his gaze dragging over me like he was starved, that made me take the final steps towards him. Taimoor's slow smile affected me even more than it did the first few times I saw it. Now that I knew he looked exactly the same when he was planning out what he wanted to do to my body, I fought back a shiver.

"You could have given me a hint."

I stood there, my heart sinking, and watched him help me put on my fur coat. His eyes sparkled, his hand never leaving my back as he moved me toward the door. "But that would ruin the surprise."

I cut him a look.

He looked strangely relaxed, despite being dressed impeccably in dress slacks and a black shirt that lit up his eyes. Again, this gave me no clues to where we were going. He led me outside to a blacked-out Mercedes. My hand reached to grasp the handle, but before I could, he was there, opening the door and helping me in.

My heart skipped.

Such a simple gesture, but one that made me feel special. Taken care of.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he grinned, starting the car but leaving it idle as he twisted to look at me. "Trust me, you'll like it," the words raked over me in the form of a shiver as I stared at the clustered wood and stone homes and shopfronts, the streets that wound it all tightly together.

"Is it a place close by?" maybe I could google it.

He gave a low chuckle. His face wasn't visible in the shadows of the car, but I could imagine his expression, subtly amused, darkly challenging. "No."

"A restaurant."

"No."

"A movie?"

The faint sound of a scoff. "You know me better than that, Daania."

I was left to imagine the possibilities. We wouldn't go dancing, would we?

He guided the car into an alley behind a sprawling building.

I got goosebumps.

"Abandoned building?" I asked with a small chuckle as Taimoor squeezed my hand and we turned onto yet another small and cobbled street.

Every street in this part of town appeared too small to have a name, let alone fit a normal-sized car. I looked around and felt as though the old, ornate architecture of the buildings gave each winding road the sense of coming back home.

I waited for him to open the door and help me step out. We were directly in front of a short flight of stairs leading to a wide doorway. The only person waiting on the other side was a uniformed guard who was not at all surprised to see us. "Mr. and Mrs. Mughal, right this way please."

I shook myself loose from the shock long enough to read a bronze sign on the wall. This place was a historical sight and it was well after hours.

The place was deserted.

My heels felt mortifyingly loud in what was basically a cathedral. We passed through another room with soaring windows, low desks, and catalogs, and then I felt stupid because the rotunda wasn't a cathedral. An arched ceiling. Intricate murals on the walls. Miles and miles of dark paneling.

And then suddenly the lights came on, illuminating how grand the room was.

No, grand wasn't the right word. It was freaking magnificent. I'd been to many libraries in my lifetime, including the Library of Congress, but I'd never seen a library like this. A full-body shiver moved through me.

It was a massive place, with long tables and a ceiling that belonged inside a palace.

A dream.

All this was a dream come true, including, impossibly, the man in his slacks and dress shirt, striding toward that table with its lamp. The library itself was at least three stories tall in places where the bookshelves reached up into the narrow circular turrets of the building, the shelves themselves built into the iron walls. It was the library from Beauty and the Beast. Or as close as a real version of it could be.

A freaking historical library.

"What is this place?" I asked, my eyes roaming over the structure, soaking it all in.

"This is one of the oldest libraries in the continent," Taimoor dragged his attention to his me, the draft catching his shirt and plastering it to his firm chest. I swallowed, removing my eyes from his muscular torso when he looked up."The foundations were laid during the formation of the Roman Empire. This is the only library to survive the fall of the empire. A relic of the times. A symbol of its power. I just thought you'd like to visit."

Because I liked books. Because he remembered. He'd driven us out so I could take my time and visit a library that was more than a millennium old.

"Daania," every time he said my name, it was like an invitation to do something I was sure to regret. "Breathe babe."

A wondering smile lit up my face.

There must be thousands and thousands of books and scrolls all subtly calling my name. Taimoor sighed and grabbed my hand leading me to the black velvet couches under a stained glass rose window. It felt overwhelming, the love I had for books. Or maybe it was the moment.

The pool of light in a dark room.

The man at the edge of that light.

I watched the forceful pulse in his neck and let my eyes drift lower, drinking in the dangerously attractive man who had once thought to frighten me away. He turned to watch me walk toward him and I did it through the unreality of this moment.

This was romantic, I wanted to say, but I couldn't say that out loud. His old words bounced in my mind. 'I don't do romance.'

I couldn't explain it, couldn't explain the rush of feeling and ache and empathy. Couldn't begin to explain it. The sensation in my chest got more intense until I could barely breathe past it.

Oh my God, I was catching feelings for this man. This beautifully complicated man who sliced me open with a mere look.

I closed my eyes and a single tear slipped free. I could not control how I felt, I'd already more than proven that, but at least I didn't have to tell him. I didn't know how he'd react, and I honestly could not stand the thought of coldness creeping into Taimoor's eyes in response.

"Taimoor, thank you," it was as close as I could come right now. It was as close as I'd ever come to admitting to feelings like these.

What happened in this room, that moment was a sacrament. It would move with me now. Stay close, like the breaths that would follow me every day, every second of my life.

"Come on, we've got another place to be," he put a big hand on the small of my back and warmth spread out from my spine to the tips of my fingers. We walked back the way we came, my steps unsteady, my heart feeling oversized. It was squeezing out all the room in my lungs, adding another layer of complexity to this whole thing.

Everything was getting out of hand.

Another short drive later we stopped near the piers. I glanced around, staring at the end of the pier with anxiety building a stone in my stomach, weighing me down. It made it impossible for me to move.

"Are we going on a boat?"

He smiled."Is that alright?

I licked my lips, achingly aware of how he followed the movement. Hard eyes jerked up to mine, almost animalistic in their nature as they took in how close I was standing to him. Nodding, my fingers twisted in front of me. His hand rested on my lower back as he guided me toward the walkway, past the other boats at the very end to a forty-three-meter sailing yacht sat.

"I just thought we could have dinner somewhere private."

We walked in silence as I took in the sights and Taimoor took in me. Of course, he'd been here before. But even if he hadn't, I knew his attention wouldn't have differed. Sliding his palm around my waist, he helped me step from the walkway onto the side deck. On the boat, he stepped out of his shoes and pulled off his socks, tossing them one by one into the basket beside the gangway that led to a large, white sailboat. It had a cherrywood deck and a sleek design that made it look fast, even when it was tied down, bobbing in the water, and the gangway creaking with each rise and fall.

I looked around the shiny deck, the cream furniture setting nicely against the dark floors. He led me towards the back where lights are strung, casting a romantic glow, and white linen and expensive china were set on the round table surrounded by the U-shaped cushioned benches.

He pulled out my chair as I sat before walking to his side of the table. From the head of the table, Taimoor watched me with an intensity that was unsettling.

The dinner was chef-prepared and exquisite, and I wished I could enjoy it fully. We both cleared our plates, small talk, and the breeze off the water were the only things keeping us company.

Above deck, night hung like an indigo blanket. Between the cool evening breeze, the salt in the air, and Taimoor's grin, the server cleared the plates and brought in the dessert. A two-layered masterpiece with silky chocolate ganache frosting.

My heart slowed, almost to a complete stop.

I couldn't compartmentalize this.

"Happy Birthday little dragon," he said, making my heart jolt back up in surprise. He remembered? And how had I forgotten? Technically my birthday was tomorrow and I knew he'd done all of this a day early to surprise me. But still.

Italy had worked its magic.

Magic that made me forget everything outside of the reality we'd built for ourselves.

Magic that made me forget everything back home.

And magic that made me believe that this man was becoming a part of me more and more every day.

"How did you..." I said in an unusually breathless voice. "I mean, you knew?"

I'd never been an intrusive person. I'd never been a rebellious person. I'd never demanded more than I was owed. Never. I'd been too busy trying to be someone I wasn't. To be more. And then this man whose looks defied reality and dared to have a higher standard made me feel things that I would swear not even a world-renowned scientist could create a drug to replicate.

My skin prickled in every direction, reaching out for any chance to be closer to him while my heart beat heavy against my chest.

It was the power he held over me.

And the one I held over him.

There were so many emotions running through my body right now, I was surprised I could feel any of them. The moon cast a haunting glow off the water, and I waited until the server placed the dessert plates and walked inside before I spoke.

"I don't think anything will ever top this."

"Cut the cake Daania," a blush heated my cheeks, the dark drawl of his voice breaking any and all restraint. My hand grabbed the knife, my fingers putting the barest of pressures, the utensil slicing through the decadent chocolate and I stared at the man before me.

I didn't know if anything like fate existed beyond the books. Beyond stories and beyond fairytales. Once I thought Taimoor and I were doomed to fail.

But sitting here, I could feel my eyes opening, thin threads stretching out from me and, hooking me to the man in front of me. These feelings were tender and so different from everything I'd felt with Taimoor, but I welcomed them all the same. I'd taken the leap. Maybe there was hope. Maybe there was a chance.

Because in a world of people who had never seen me, sometimes, it felt as if he was the only one who did.

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His breath whispered against the juncture of my neck, warm kisses peppered along my skin. The pretty gown I'd dressed up in was up around my waist. This was as intimate as when he told me his secrets. He was the secret now. He was going to be the mark on my skin that never went away.

The straps were next, then both hands returned to fist the bedding beside my head as my dress crumpled with each thrusting slide of his lower body over mine.

"I liked that dress," I panted when his mouth gave me reprieve and grazed my neck and chest. He groaned, looming over me with radiant eyes.

"I did too," his head lowered, a rough laugh dancing over my mouth a second before he nipped my upper lip. My mouth crashed into his. Desperate and starving, I curved into him and my lips parted his, teeth catching his tongue.

Before I could counter that, the warm expanse of his palm flattened on my abdomen. The tips of his fingers running just under my breasts and the base of his wrist teasing the elastic waist of my underwear. The lace didn't go without a fight. It burned on its last trip across my skin. This was the second pair he'd ripped in three days.

"Happy birthday babe," he breathed, letting his hand slide higher until the weight of my breast rested on it.

"This is the first time anyone has wished me this way..."

"I don't want you to think of anyone else right now," he muttered to my breasts, breath hot and ragged, and I mewled as his warm mouth closed over a beaded nipple. He sucked, then licked, then moved to the other to give it the same attention. His eyes flashed up at me, watching, learning, knowing. Gently, his teeth scraped over the delicate skin, his question more of a search for confirmation. "Like that?"

"Love that, but come back," I clasped his hair between my fingers, pawing at his back when he gave that luscious mouth to mine. Taimoor hummed, then recaptured my lips for a quick taste, murmuring between teasing brushes. I felt him tremble when my hands slid over his back, muscle and sinew shifting.

"Impatient."

"You're too dressed," he chuckled, the sound deliciously heated over my seeking lips. His forearms rested on either side of my head, fingers smoothing my hair from my face. Raising my hands, I slowly started to undo the buttons on his shirt, exposing inch after inch of delicious male flesh he hid under those expensive suits of his until he hovered over me.

"Ready?" he whispered, husked and nipping at my lips.

His voice was almost that of wonder as he stared at his fingers holding my flesh. My heart began to race and need spread like wildfire through my limbs. I saw my other hand thread through the waves on his head, forcing it back until he stared at me, his gaze mirroring the ravaged need in my own.

"What are you waiting for?"

"I want to feel you, to torture you with my mouth, fingers," he groaned. I pulled him closer and he swallowed, his voice changing, graveled. "I want you slick, so slick that your pulse will forever quicken at the mere thought of me."

I moaned, pressing my hands into his toned waist, pressing him against me. His hips began to rock while his hand trailed down my side, taking my now ruined dress with it. With his eyes on mine, he tore his mouth away, lips skimming my chin, journeying slowly to my thudding pulse. He pressed his tongue against it, and we each exhaled a sharp breath. Dragging his mouth over my chest, he then lifted high enough to gaze down at my breasts.

"Fuck," he groaned, and then he was squeezing, licking, caressing, and driving me so wild, I was writhing underneath him, on fire and burning higher with every breath. He pulled me forward so I leaned down, my nipples brushing over his chest, his hands sliding into my hair, his jaw clenched, his eyes fierce on mine.

And then he touched me.

His eyes remained on mine, and he touched me with such careful precision, his lips parting with a low groan at what he found.

"Take off your pants," I urged, suddenly desperate for the sight of him.

He didn't, and I frowned. Then featherlight fingers touched me as though I'd break if he did not do so with extreme care. Up and down, they brushed over me, turning for his knuckles to do the same. They caught my folds, opened them slightly, and I moaned long and loud, delirious in a way I'd never experienced before.

Noticing everything, Taimoor repeated the action, swapping his knuckles for the pad of one thick finger. I was a knot of pure need, every part of me reduced to the spot where his fingers touched me. The connection fed the part of me starved for attention, affection. Hypnotized with no breath left inside my lungs, I watched his eyelids flutter. Those heavy lashes lowered with his hand as he stroked and circled, and I twisted my lip between my teeth as every limb tingled and my blood heated beyond anything that could be considered safe.

"Oh," I choked out, and he was over me in an instant, still working me toward a slow entrance into oblivion. He murmured a string of curses against my skin as he worked his way down to my nipple, latching on and pulling hard at the flesh while I shook, my fingers scoring into his back as my husband took control from my body.

"Don't tease me," gasping, I forced my hand up and through his hair, pulling on the satin strands to tip his head back.

"But that's part of the fun," a hot breath leeched from my lips as he locked my nipple in his mouth and then pulled back, releasing it with a plop. "You've been teasing me for months."

"It wasn't my fault you couldn't stop thinking about me," he rubbed a little circle, and my mouth shaped into a startled O. I couldn't catch my breath.

"You were saying?"

A strangled moan broke from my chest.

Our lips met and parted, his tongue matching the circular swipes of his finger. "At first," he said, his voice so deep that some of his words cracked. "I didn't want to marry you," his breath rushed inside my mouth. "I didn't want to..."

His finger crawled to my entrance, toying, and we both moaned.

"What changed?" I asked, both of us straining for breath.

"I realized that it couldn't have been anyone else," he circled again, dragged his teeth over my chin, along my jaw, and licked my erratic pulse. "Now that I've got you in my bed, in my arms, on the brink of breaking beneath me..." he groaned, teeth clutching gently at my skin. " I know, you were made for me."

I couldn't talk, could hardly stand to believe a word he said, let alone try to swim away from the feelings his touch, that he was drowning me in. Taimoor added the heel of his hand to the mix, rubbing against my swollen clit. My eyes widened when he rubbed me, and his nostrils flared as his hooded gaze darted all over my face, reading, and learning.

And then his lips claimed mine.

He slowed smoothing his hands over the insides of my thighs. Each pass was longer, slower, reminding me that I was spread wide open to the cool air. The simple, easy motions of his hands alone turned me on so much and left me panting with anticipation. The fact he wasn't rushing this was like straight electricity to my veins.

He held me there, soothing me, a gentle motion despite the action.

"Always so wet for me," he grunted as he speared two fingers deep inside me, curling them at the tips. He surrounded me. Arms, hands, lips, and masculine need. He was everywhere all at once.

My body reacted as though I was made for his touch.

"You-" I choked as my body clenched and seized around him, teetering on the brink of release. "Oh, God...I don't want to come around your fingers," my voice was strained as the edge of my orgasm began to cloud my vision and my voice.

"You will come around whatever I want you to come around babe."

His fingers locked on my clit, sharp pleasure blinding for a moment.

"Moor I-"

"You're so damn responsive. It's like you can't get enough of me."

He'd meant it when he said he'd do everything to me.

He'd done exactly that.

"All mine," he whispered, moving inside me. The sensation was darkly satisfying as if he were claiming me all over again for the first time. My eyes fluttered shut, and his hand caressed down my body, tucked between my legs, and massaged the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Say you're mine."

His words should have set alarm bells ringing, but all they did was stoke the flames of my passion, making it hard to breathe, my body squeezed around his fingers, the only evidence of my movement being the desire that drained from me down onto his hand. The words coming out of Taimoor's mouth...it was like I was signing part of myself away to this man who claimed everything and nothing.

"Yours," everything he did, every kiss, every caress, was a long, languorous expedition in seduction. The touch of his hand wound me tighter, the pleasure clenching my muscles until I squeezed around him, and his pace grew rougher. My hands roamed down his shoulders and onto the muscled ridges of his chest, desperate for more.

"Come, little dragon," he commanded. "Come for me, babe."

My orgasm was explosive, it shattered inside me and had me crying, breathless, shaking as my arousal dripped down my legs. If angels could sing, this was the moment I heard the whole freaking choir.

I reached and then pushed at the waistband of his pants. I heard his pants loosen and felt his skin burn against mine, though he hadn't moved to rid them.

"Taimoor, condom," I swallowed hard, catching the back of his head when he made to rise. The pants left his body with one movement, and I froze at the feel of him, the heat of his smooth skin near-boiling. Every inch of my skin felt so hot, I would swear it was melting. He curled his body over mine, arms tight around me, one hand holding my face in a grip that was half tender and half brutal.

He tipped my head back, so it rested on his shoulder, and my back arched.

He hissed when his length replaced his fingers. He didn't enter my body. He ground into me, harder than stone and perfectly positioned, and I was flailing over the side of a cliff, just waiting to be pushed. Deeper, tighter, slowly he filled me completely. I was burning. I was stunned I could fit him, stunned I could still take it and he was going to make me come. He moved into me slowly but deep, watching me intently, gauging each tiny reaction to what he was doing, watching my cues so he could send me over the edge. He grabbed each of my legs and placed them over his shoulders. The position made it feel like I was doing this for the first time. His hand drifted between our bodies, touching the hard knot just above our union. His other hand wrapped on the back of my neck, holding me to him so our foreheads were touching our lips only a breath away. With that he picked up the pace, hammering his hips against me, his pelvis pushing me on every downward motion, his eyes, those beautiful, dark stormy eyes, steady on mine, seeing me completely laid bare and naked and vulnerable and open in every way that I could be.

A sweet torment.

He saw it and he took it, and I gave and gave and gave, the intimacy of our bodies, our gazes, our hearts all connecting in one tandem. Each thrust felt like an expression, an extension of something growing beyond our flesh and bones. I felt my world expanding, and where I'd once only known loneliness, I now felt warmth and soul-deep happiness.

Stars cluttered behind my closed eyes, our labored breaths a violent song in my ears.

"Daania," he groaned, and my name had never quite sounded like that, like a vow made with six simple letters.

A wave swept in, and I was thrown off the cliff, completely submerged beneath all that he was as he rocked into me, my head caged in his hands while I struggled to open my eyes and draw breath. His own eyes were a furious grey, a tumultuous storm, his thumb at the corner of my lips as he choked on a curse and stilled. A satisfied growl climbed up his throat, filled my ear as he dropped his head into my neck, where it stayed for fracturing moments. Then he rumbled, rolling to his side and keeping my body aligned with his, my head placed under his chin above his thundering chest.

The way he moaned before he came inside me was easily the hottest thing I'd ever heard. He held me so tight I couldn't move an inch. I could only stay there, bound up in his arms, my body overwhelming me. I melted into him as he swelled hot and reached back with a shaking hand, finding the hair at the nape of his neck and gripping as if I'd never let go.

As if I could keep him there forever.

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That's all.
Thoughts comments feedback 😄

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