𝕿hat night in Rome, strung out from jet lag, I got ready for the welcoming dinner and gala after a series of introductory meetings and small informal chats. The entire Mughal Co. delegation was invited, and I was treated to a barrage of nervous questions from the more junior members of the team. Most of whom were my age.

While I coached and fielded their questions, the next few days would be filled with negotiations bickering and barely veiled acrimony. But tonight we were all supposed to play nice, give the world lots of pretty pictures, with nicely framed shots of the Chinese delegation shaking the hands of the Americans and the French. I knew how important this whole conference was for the company and to Taimoor, and how obsessed he was by the years he spent re-building the company, so if the one way I could help make this whole thing a success was to attend this dinner by his side, then I was more than happy to do it.

But I had no illusions about how congenial or enjoyable the evening would be.

Jibran had already taken the liberty to coach me on the subtle power plays that would be taking place tonight. I was to avoid any talk about the Chinese making strides in nuclear fusion technology, skirt any topics regarding French politics, and was to sidestep the British with the whole Brexit ordeal. That was before I was told that the American's were now a bit touchy about not getting their 'deserved treatment' so they were in the do-not-piss-off box as well.

He'd only just left to get ready, his brow ticking from the stress, once Hania's junior stylist, Rabiya, had kicked him out.

"How does this look?" I asked, stepping out of the bathroom as she rushed to fasten my earrings. I was wearing a skin-tight shimmering black Armani dress with a plunging back, my hair cascading down in sultry waves. The most daring part of the ensemble was the back, which exposed so much skin there was no way I was wearing my hair up. My fingers were manicured and glittering to sparkle under the chandelier lights. I looked just fine like this, a pedestal of glamour to highlight who I was.

"You look stunning ma'am, but would you like to put your hair up?"

"They're not long enough to cover the whole back, so I think it's fine. Let's keep it fun for tonight. I already have the bun planned out for tomorrow."

"You're right, I've got your heels and clutch on the bed."

"Where is Taimoor?"

I was still turning and frowning into the mirror when I heard the door open and Taimoor's gravelly voice. "Daania? Are you ready?"

"Yup," I called and stepped out of the obnoxiously large dressing area. When he saw me, he stopped, his mouth parted as if he was about to speak, and then forgot the words. An intense feeling of affection, warm and wrapped in possessiveness, settled into my midsection. Then he gave me his eyes, the caress of his hungry stare, searing my skin and deeper, strangling my air like a closed fist.

"Is something wrong?" I asked, paranoid that maybe his expression meant he was having all the same doubts about the dress. Rabiya shot me a panicked smile and exited the suite, nearly running out of the room.

"What's wrong is that you're fucking perfect, and I want to have you all to myself tonight," he growled, stepping forward and caging me against the wall with his arms. He leaned down and bit my exposed collarbone, and agonized pleasure spread through me like wildfire, hijacking and burning my nerve endings and my capacity for higher thought.

He turned me to face the mirrors and stepped behind me. We looked good like this, even with him a little wild around the eyes and me nervous. The three mirrors surrounding us showed our images from all directions, and there was something apt about that, but I was too focused on the man in front of me to chase the thought down. I never would have lined us up as a couple that fit, but our time together had more than proved me wrong, and for a moment, an old fear hit me hard. What if this wasn't good enough? What if I wasn't good enough? I was surrounded by people who were much more accomplished than I. Much more knowledgeable about their field. I was only here because of who I was married to. That I'd always be the one on his arm, the lovely one, stuck as his shadow.

The intense feeling of being an imposter inside me got stronger.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the lie fell out of my mouth easily. A little too easily. He released my wrist and took a step back.

"I know, this wasn't the image you would have dreamed of."

An image...? What?

"What are you talking about? What image?"

His lips curved, but his eyes weren't happy. He flung a hand at the mirror to his right.

"This," he looked away, but his attention snagged on the reflection and he grimaced.

"No," I whispered.

He had talked about being a monster more than a few times, hating his physical appearance, and while I could admit that his past actions could have been outlandish, I hated that he took all the blame for it and ignored the conditions that brought him to that point. I hated that he thought his appearance had anything to do with it. He'd been slightly standoffish after our return from Mughal Manor. At first, I had chalked it to the stress of catching up on the work and the potential coop Mughal Co. was facing but now that I'd thought about it, it could have been something that had happened there. Maybe something someone had said.

Oh, Taimoor.

I slipped my hand into his. He was so tense, I could tell he was fighting not to pull away from me, to retreat to something resembling a safer distance. I turned us to face the mirror in front of me. Taimoor was trying to shut down his expression, but he still looked pained as I took a deep breath.

"Look," I prompted. "Look at us."

Slowly, I moved his hand to clasp me around the waist, letting my head fall back on his chest, capturing his other arm and placing it on my neck, where my shoulder met my throat. That movement made me keenly aware of his muscular body behind me.

My back against his chest.

The soft sound of his breath near my ear.

Taimoor groaned, swept my hair aside, and leaned in to kiss my neck. I sighed at his touch and he rubbed my upper arms, moving in closer. My back arched against him as he nibbled and gently kissed my neck. I closed my eyes, catching my breath.

"Do you see this?"

I should have left it at that, but his question felt so unexpectedly vulnerable that I could not help the impulse to soothe him.

Just a little.

Our eyes met in the mirror, mine flashing with a challenge, his lips turning in a hint of a smile. His hands reached down and slowly started ghosting his knuckles over my bare back, moving over the skin of my spine, his breath against the sensitive spot behind my ear. His low growl was almost silent, just enough to send the vibration down my spine. He dipped his fingers beneath the slim strip of fabric slowly sliding it over the curve of my ass and groaned, giving me a tormented look. My eyes fluttered as his fingers brushed my skin. I throbbed with sudden need. I closed my eyes, but that only made the spell his proximity weaves even stronger. I didn't care where we were, his soft teasing strokes made me whimper against his hand.

"Why are you doing this?" he rasped into my ear.

Because I can't see you in pain. Because you deserve more than you've been given. Because my heart aches for you.

Our eyes met in the mirror again.

I bit my lip and swallowed hard. "Because this is what you do to me, only you."

I glanced at him and stopped short. He was staring at me with the strangest expression on his face. It was not just desire. No, Taimoor was looking at me like he had never seen me before. Like maybe I'd acted against his expectations. He took my left hand and traced his thumb over my ring finger.

"You're rather good at that," his low voice was filled with edges. I couldn't tell if he was accusing me or merely making a comment.

"I'm good at a lot of things," I managed to put my head on his chest and gave a meaningful glance at his watch."We're running late, think you could shower and change in the next fifteen minutes?"

He looked very much like he didn't give a crap about the gala but he still dropped his arms and took a step back."I suppose we should get going," he said reluctantly.

"We should," I said, ducking past him to grab my clutch.

"I'll be right out."

Tired already, I ended up leaning against the far wall. The room we were staying in was a beautiful Italian masterpiece. The suite, almost as large as the one back in Mughal House had a small kitchen stocked with various flavors of coffees, a refrigerator full of drinks, and a basket of snack foods. There was a living room with fancy furniture, a dining room with a table that seated six, and of course, the bedroom complete with an en suite bathroom with a bathtub that made me drool.

"I've already seen the programme, they'll want to have a small Opera performance," ten minutes later, Taimoor lazily strolled out of the bathroom and threw his jacket on the bed. Dressed in an unbuttoned white dress shirt, exposing a tan muscular chest, the fabric stretched and pulled over the wide shoulders and broad muscles of his back as he kept his head bowed, working on the cuffs. My fingers tensed to run through the disheveled black locks of his hair, and because I couldn't help it, I let my eyes trail down to the narrow lines of his hips and the dark pants that were excruciatingly tailored. Heat flooded me everywhere, sending sparks and electric flashes dancing across my skin.

"Let me," I moved before I had a chance to remember why this was such a dangerous idea, walking over and buttoning him up carefully. My fingers brushed his bare chest a few times, and I was sure I was not imagining the way he hissed out an exhale in response. I held my breath as I finished the last button and moved back."There you go."

"Thanks," I watched closely, but he seemed a little more in control than he was earlier. Taimoor popped his collar and got to work on his cravat. God, the man was beautiful. I kept expecting to get used to it, but every time I looked at him, it was a shock to my system. For some reason, watching him get ready seemed incredibly intimate. Maybe it was his voice, which had always been husky and deep, or maybe it was the way he was looking down at me, his eyes searing hot trails down my dress and then back up again.

"I really wish we were doing anything but this," he murmured, pulling me into his arms, spinning me gracefully around, and the prickling in my heart felt like full-on burning now. His hand settled on the small of my back, intensifying the prickling there, and I was so close to his chest that the fabric of his tuxedo lapels glided against my bodice.

"I know, but it's only for a few days."

"Then we'll be away from all of this," he said, his voice going a little rough, a little possessive. On instinct, I licked my bottom lip, and Taimoor groaned. The sound vibrated within my chest. He leaned in closer, and I was a statue as his lips grazed my jaw and then nipped at my earlobe.

"Uh huh," I replied, trying not to look affected while still feeling the heat of my blush.

We entered the ballroom with its marble tiles, gilt molding, and elaborate carvings. The guests were dripping with jewels, dressed in their finery. The crowd shimmered and sparkled even more than the ballroom itself. Which was saying something. The ceiling at the Ritz was shining with elaborate artwork crisscrossing the entirety of the ballroom. String lights had been designed and draped to resemble golden spiderwebs casting a dim glow on the crowd dressed in elaborate ball gowns and men in fitted tuxes. Tall crystal champagne glasses clinked together, adding to the music wafting from the orchestra. They played a slow seductive tune, each pull of the bow across the strings adding to the siren call.

The introductions were tedious and time-consuming because there were advisors, heads of organizations, diplomats, and several cabinet members that we had to meet. I was raised to smile and pretend to find common ground and shake hands and so that's what I did. And finally, thankfully, after a lengthy meet and greet it was time to sit down and eat.

By the time it all came to a close, four hours later, I was swaying on my feet and Taimoor was racing to make the formal goodbyes.

I could not manage to speak until we were tucked safely back in the hotel suite."I suppose it was naive of me to think that this would be fun."

"No, it usually is, I just didn't expect it to drag for this long," he took my hands, his grip light but unavoidable. "Want to order something? Any room service?"

"We just had dinner."

He shook his head."You didn't eat."

I didn't mean to touch him. Touching Taimoor was the very definition of a poor choice, but my hands found their way inside his tux jacket all the same. "I ate enough."

The fabric of his shirt was just as soft as I remembered, but that was not why my legs were already shaking. It was the curves and divots of his muscles beneath. After that night, the night we both tiptoed around, he had not been shirtless in bed with me. I could want that now. We were in Rome after all.

He held perfectly still, watching me closely. "Daania?"

"You can't be comfortable in all of this," my fingers toyed with the buttons in the center of his chest.

His eyes flared hot, but he did not reach for me the way I suddenly craved."Babe, you're tired."

"Taimoor."

"Daania," he practically purred my name, and I had to fight down a shiver. How could this man do so much with one word? He exhaled slowly as if giving me a chance to change my mind. When I simply stood there and looked up at him, he growled."Two more days Daania, two more days, and then I would rip apart anyone who bothered us."

Shock and pleasure had me turning red.

Taimoor took a slow step closer, and I did nothing to stop him. He stroked the tips of his fingers over the backs of my hands. I ignored the sensible voice inside me. Tomorrow was tomorrow. In the far future. Right now, I was buzzing in my skin, torn in a thousand different directions by too many emotions. He grabbed my hand and towed me to the master bedroom.

"Do you want help with the dress?"

We were back in front of the mirror, we stared at each other for a long moment, the tension building into an almost visible thing. I was acutely aware of how quickly the tables had turned. Give Taimoor an inch and he wanted a mile. I gaped at my reflection, hardly recognizing the woman reflected there. She looked like a stranger, dressed in a designer gown with her cheeks flushed from desire. I watched Taimoor through half lidded eyes as he moved to stand behind me, his expression a mask of concentration and impatience as he gently tugged the shoulders until the dress sagged away from my body.

I could have helped, but I could not stop staring at the picture we made.

"We still haven't talked about-" about the future. About what this all meant. About how long we could keep tiptoeing the sexual tension.

"What do you want?" he ran his hands over the in-built corset, guiding my dress past my shoulders, eyes on me. I froze, gripping the fabric hard enough to hurt. He had seen me naked, but I still could not help the stab of insecurity I felt.

"Honesty," I muttered whirling around to push his jacket off his shoulders.

"I want you."

The naked hunger on his face put what few doubts I had aside. This man had no reason to lie to me, not about this. Which meant he wanted me just as desperately as I wanted him. He kept up that featherlight touch, tracing over my wrists.

"Do you?"

He sank his hands into my hair. He was barely touching me, his fingers carefully moving through my hair, occasionally pressing to the tight knots at the base of my skull, but it felt like he had doused me in gasoline, just ready to get lit by a single match.

I could not stop shaking.

I opened my eyes, not quite sure when I closed them, to find a look of utter concentration on his face. Every bit of his formidable attention was focused on me. The moment my lips touched his, it was as if something exploded between us. He used his hold in my hair to tilt my head back and took the kiss deeper.

My body lit up. I would never, ever get enough of kissing him. He turned it into an art form, an intoxicating connection that went straight to my head.

The realization was one of the headiest moments of my life.

This man was mine.

His teeth grazed sensitive skin, but he was oh so careful not to mark me. Not yet. I could tell even while completely overwhelmed with this experience. And that care, that thoughtfulness, only made this moment more intoxicating. I tentatively ran my hands up his arms, lingering over the harsh lines of his muscles.

"From the fabric of my soul," his voice was lower than I'd ever heard, rough and tight. "Whatever you want, it's yours," he moved, bracketing my throat with one hand and sliding his other down to palm me. I'd never felt so owned in my life. I'd never looked so owned.

Possessed.

"Whatever I want?"

"Whatever you want," he sounded like he meant it. He looked like he meant it. It was too much and not enough, and if I could think properly, I'd be terrified that I would never get enough. He didn't miss a beat. Taimoor backed up and let me go, giving me the space that I now desperately needed.

The way that man looked at me.

If I were smarter, I would find a way to run from him. Just like Fariha had said. If I was smarter, I would not have been considering this, but the heat in Taimoor's eyes was something like an obsession, and being that man's sole focus was dangerous in a way I was not prepared to deal with.

I was strong. I'd had to be in order to survive this long mostly unscathed.

But I was nowhere near strong enough to win a battle of wills with Taimoor if he ever decided he wanted to break me to pieces. And the terrifying part of it all was, I no longer cared.

༻✺༺

Tomorrow was a rush to a new city.

The driver navigated through a very narrow street and a constant stream of cars, bikes, and scooters that ensured that he had to be wary as they picked their way along the busy pavement. The buildings here were noticeably older than those out on the main square and the ones we'd seen back in Rome, with shops and cafés punctuating the ground floor of most of the houses.

It was a lovely, still, morning and the heat haze hadn't yet built up. Opposite me, in the far distance, the outline of the tree-clad hills and the mountains beyond was crystal clear. This flat area dominated the city and provided a natural viewing point from which to admire the full magnificent beauty of the coast.

Taimoor and I walked on the sundeck, staring out at the Mediterranean sea, blue waters glistening under the morning sun.

"Buongiorno signorina."

I accepted the fruity mix with a smile, determined to practice my pitiful Italian."Buongiorno."

Sun bounced off the ripples of blue water, and even though I had on sunglasses, the glare was so bright, I still had to shield my eyes. I stood next to Taimoor beside the small in-deck pool and tried to focus on the crowd. The multilevel yacht was anchored near the beautiful Amalfi coast, and it bobbed gently in the calm waters. The ship was huge.

Salty air hit me in the face, rustling my dark waves.

I looked down at my dress, a loose flowing thing, fitted at the shoulders, gauzy and with thick bands of intricate detailing around the neckline and hem. It was a color between white and silver, and I liked the way it set off my naturally dark skin and hair when I tried it on. There was a very short shift underneath all the layers of chiffon to keep things from getting too scandalous, but overall it was very sensual. The dress wasn't form-fitting, but I liked the way it flowed as it moved, the heavy hem and soft chiffon layers keeping me cool under the heat. Beside me Taimoor was dressed in a dove grey suit, his hand glued to the spot on the small of my back. It was a light touch but possessive all the same.

"This is so much more fun," the staff moved around handing out drinks and appetizers.

His low chuckle had me fighting not to arch back against him again. "I can bet."

"I'm glad you talked me out of attending that seminar."

"I'll take that as a win," he lowered his head until our noses were nearly touching."But my reasons were entirely personal."

I straightened my spine and glared at him.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mughal, how lovely to see you!" from the smile on the newcomer's face, he knew Taimoor, and from the grimace on my husband's face, he knew him too.

"Jaffar didn't expect to see you here."

"Oh you know, I have a way of getting into events," he faced me, his charm cranked up to a thousand. I might not know him, but even I had to admit it was a lot of charm. Dressed in a white polo shirt and jeans, he was the personification of a playboy."It's a pleasure to meet you, I can't believe Taimoor got married!"

"Pleasure's all mine."

"How did you get here Jaffar?" Taimoor's tone shifted, and the small hairs rose on the back of my neck.

The way Jaffar blanched almost made me laugh."Your uncle asked for me to be here."

"My uncle asked for you to ambush me?"

"No, he asked for me to ambush the guy you couldn't reach."

"Who?" Taimoor leaned down a little, not quite getting in Jaffar's face but the threat was there all the same. The man swallowed and swayed a little.

"The one responsible for blocking your patent."

"And did you?"

"I-" Jaffar cocked his head. "No."

"So you failed and decided to show me your face?"

Taimoor was now a glaring storm. His energy had changed in the few seconds we had been having this conversation. He had gone past frozen and straight into an icy rage. Jaffar stepped back, inching towards the railing. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought he was ready to throw himself off the ship. I didn't know what was going on, but it was not enough to distract me from what I was learning.

"Maybe I should-"

"Yes, you should."

Almost as if something had snapped, Jaffer disappeared just as quickly as he'd appeared. The whole luncheon was a nice distraction. It was a strange normal in the midst of a situation that was anything but. Taimoor managed to pull himself together enough to be charming, but I knew him well enough now to recognize that he was a little off. It was a disconcerting realization, both that what happened was enough to throw him off his game and that I could see the signs. For the majority of the luncheon, we stayed out on the lowest deck of the stern and I welcomed the melodic sound of water splashing against the rugged coast, a good representation of the confusion brewing in me.

Unlike last night, things wrapped up quickly, and we were swept back to our hotel.

By the time we ended up in our rooms, I was ready to draw blood, but then I saw how tired Taimoor looked. His jacket was off and thrown carelessly over the bed, his top buttons open. He was balancing his iPad on his knee, and something about the color in his cheeks told me that this wasn't the first time he was in a situation like this. And the weariness in his face was so profound, so deeply etched, that I could not bear to add to it.

He looked up at me, eyes nearly liquid with exhaustion.

"You're angry about something," he commented.

I didn't ask how he guessed because even if it weren't written all over my face, he'd still know. "Yes."

"We have a few things to talk about then," he took a sip of water and then waved over toward the fridge. "You want something to drink?"

And then realized I had no segue into the things we needed to talk about, no warm-up. I just had to dive in. I took a deep breath and looked Taimoor square in the face. "What's going on Taimoor? What are you hiding?"

"They're not agreeing to give us the patent," he sounded like he was in pain."And unless I have some sort of leverage, there is a slim chance that I can convince the board to give me a fair shot," Taimoor slowly shook his head."There's no other way. We're running out of time."

Fear tensed the muscles of my back, making my posture stiff. "There has to be."

"Not when it comes to the board."

"Have none of the meetings gone well?"

He blinked and focused on me, holding my gaze for an impossibly long moment."They've gone well, but until they approve the patent, we can't do anything. Everything else is just a side project."

Frustration dragged a sigh from my lungs. "God, when will this end?"

His expression was guarded as we felt each other out."Us or this whole problem?"

"Do you want us to end?"

I could not tell which way to go and that scared me. Almost as much as my desire for it to be real scared me. "You're doing a grand job of selling our romance," I finally managed.

I didn't know what I expected Taimoor to do, but it wasn't to grab my hips and yank me down onto his lap. He stroked his thumb over my left hand."I like this ring on your finger."

I'd almost forgotten about the ring.

No, that was a lie. I'd felt its presence as if it weighed much more than it possibly could. Every time it shifted against my skin, every time the emerald caught the light, I was reminded of what I'd done. The steps I'd taken.

The heat suffusing my face flared hotter.

Hot and clammy and desperately not wanting to do anything to end this. It felt like Taimoor had sucked out all the air in the room, and he hadn't even done anything.

"I've grown fond of it."

"Yes," the ring had nothing to do with the look on Taimoor's gorgeous face. I could not look away from him. He sounded far too satisfied with that. "Now that we've established that-"

My heart gave an almost painful lurch. Taimoor was always the fixer, the one taking charge and handling things. It was a role he had obviously embraced in every part of his life. But now he was looking at me with this strangely vulnerable expression.

"We can use Baba's company."

Holy crap, where did that thought come from?

Taimoor froze, his arm anchoring me down against him."No, I can't let you do this."

"You're not letting me do anything," his mouth twisted at my snappish tone.

"It's your company-"

I gave a harsh laugh. It hurt my throat, or maybe there was a tightness there that wasn't dissipating."And I promised that I'd get you that seat."

I was so shocked at myself that I almost missed the sharp look that crossed his face. He blinked, those eyelashes long and dark, those grey eyes bright and aching behind them. "Daania, this doesn't need to be-"

"You said that they don't want your company to have the patent. What if we used your rival company?" I said, narrowing my eyes."They would play right into our hands."

I crossed my arms and waited him out. I wasn't promising to save his whole company. My plan would only would further our mutual goals. It was almost the truth. I could afford to step in, to take the risk. I had to afford to assume our endgames matched up. I forced the lump in my throat back down where it belonged. It was like every bone in his body hated the words out of my mouth, and the elite man who lay dormant in him slipped out.

"You can't take care of everyone and everything Daania," he was right. I knew he was right. But releasing years' worth of responsibility and worry was easier said than done. Possessiveness. Protectiveness. Whatever it was that surged through me was unfiltered and fierce.

I didn't have many things that I truly considered mine. Just my family.

Somewhere along the line, he'd become a part of mine. And mine to protect.

And knowing all of what had been taken from him, I couldn't.

The whole thing was going to take time.

Lawyers and paperwork was going to be involved. But we could get the ball rolling now. There was nothing else for us to do but wait. For a long moment, I thought he'd keep arguing, but he finally sighed and pulled out his phone and that move destroyed any hesitancy I had. Taimoor simply believed I could hold my own. That I was an equal. His partner. There was no hesitation, no doubt. His confidence was headier than any drug.

"You'll have to be the one to make the call to the lawyers Daania. It's your company after all. You're the boss."

༻✺༺

The cabin had an open floor plan, two-story ceilings, and well-placed windows that provided breathtaking views of the surroundings from every room. The driver had dropped us near the entrance fifteen minutes ago and I was already feeling all kinds of awkward. It was a day after the end of the whole conference and after a series of successful meetings, Taimoor had managed to sign three major contracts, a win he badly needed. With the whole team packing their bags and flying back home, my husband was treating me by arranging a seven day escape from civilization. After all the mingling and smothering we'd done, I couldn't blame him.

I moved around, looking at the eighteenth-century villa, my eyes on the neatly arranged furniture, achingly aware of how intensely Taimoor watched me. Living with him alone, without the buffer of servants made me feel vulnerable in a way I hated. It shouldn't be a big deal. I trusted him. He wasn't going to hurt me. Not physically at least. I braced myself as I looked at his face, not sure what to expect.

"This is a nice place."

Without comment, he tossed logs into the stone fireplace and gathered the kindling.

"I mean, look at this place."

"Are you okay?" he asked in that voice that meant there was definitely something wrong with me.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I murmured in a hushed voice.

Then the air shifted, morphed, simmered into a hot minute of hungry intimacy. I grew warm and itchy beneath my summer dress, and he gave no indication of looking away.

Damn him and his assertive eye contact.

He pulled back a little to gently search my eyes and then smiled when he saw that I was fine.

"Want to get something to eat? I'm sure the fridge is stocked."

"Why, I thought you were going to cook for me?"

"You don't want to know what I want to eat right now," the stark arousal in Taimoor's voice was ragged and hungry, and I was trying to fight off my own reaction. He was staring at me as if he wanted to consume me bite by bite, savoring each morsel. Every muscle in his body was locked, and for the first time, I understood what it meant to be under the gaze of a predator.

Too fast. Not fast enough.

He skimmed a hand down my arm.

But I wasn't just caught under Taimoor's hands. His powerful gaze held me down like gravity. He leaned in, tracing the tip of his nose at the corner of my mouth and brushing his open lips over mine. It mercilessly teased his kiss. When I chased him, he was ready for it.

"Last chance Daania, if you want to leave, you can walk out this door right now, I will not stop you," he spoke against my throat. Lips like warm velvet. Voice like cold steel.

I could not think straight, I was not Taimoor-sober, I was flushed and flying under his drugging kisses and his demanding mouth. All my carefully constructed defenses, all the reasons why I shouldn't, they were so flimsy in the face of this.

I was on a slippery slope when it came to this man.

His lips over mine were firm, warm, and the first flick of his tongue against my mouth was not a request. I parted for him, and then I was rewarded with plunder. It was more potent, more possessive, rougher, and silkier all at once. Hot strokes that gave no quarter, urgent kisses that had me sinking back into his arms, and his embrace bring renewed pain sizzling up my skin.

When he finally lifted his head and stared down at me with eyes gone dark from desire, he looked almost as shocked as I felt. He was an erotic vision. A lock of dark hair hung over his brow, his sensual eyes half-shut, hunger glinting in the midday sun. The expression shifted away almost instantly, replaced by fierce determination.

"Tell me Daania," he breathed in my ear."What do you want?"

His touch was barely a caress. But as those fingers circled my thighs from behind and glided up the valley between, each point of contact was a flickering flame that burned so hot it scorched. A throaty groan fell from his lips, so masculine I felt it between my legs. If the slow heat building in my blood was any indication, he wouldn't need to do much to have me on the verge of begging. He was barely doing anything now.

I cleared my throat.

"We need to talk logistics," I whispered past a dry throat.

"So talk," Taimoor didn't move his hand, did not shift against me at all. His tone was so dry, he might as well be asking about the weather. "I'm assuming you want to talk about birth control?"

"Yes. We can't risk that."

He brushed a strand of my hair away from my face."I agree, not yet. I plan to have you in my bed for a very long time. I don't think I'm ready to share."

I dragged in an unsteady breath, there was so much to unpack in that statement."That's a lot of time in bed."

"It'd barely take the edge off," his smile was a little bittersweet.

"This could mess us up. What if, what if one of us has feelings for the other?"

I pulled my back straight and folded my arms over my chest, feeling it push my sensitive, peaked breasts against the thin fabric of my shirt. My need for self-preservation battled with desire and something like empathy. I wanted him. He wanted me. I might not be able to hold the careful line between us if we kept doing this.

"Would that be so bad? You're a smart woman, you know that we've been tiptoeing around this since we've met. Do you think we're not halfway there? You're not the only one who might be on the verge of losing everything," his words rasped as he asked the question, which I didn't have to answer. It was apparent.

I was so busy trying to protect my heart that I never once thought myself capable of hurting him. Even a little. I searched his face, but for once, he didn't have a mask in place.

I looked away, fighting the pain in my throat."But if-"

"I want to give this a shot? Do you?"

I grabbed his arm, my hand moving almost of its own volition. I stared at where my fingers wrapped around his bicep. Lust and love weren't the same thing and my brain might get the two confused, especially when it came to this man. That stopped me short, my heart lunging into the back of my throat. Fariha's words echoed in my mind.

I had to be brave.

"I do," the words spill easily from my tongue.

Desire, emboldened by the possessiveness I couldn't shake, escaped with my tongue as it dove into his mouth, sparring with his. Licking and sucking, the kiss was hot and so desperate from being caged inside reason for days. I felt the inside of my thighs grow wet as my head tilted, giving him deeper access. He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot behind my ear.

The ache for him was relentless, the craving for him to be inside me brutal.

My lips obeyed his mouth. My gaze followed his eyes. My hands clung to his muscled forearms, my entire body dangling in his strong grasp as he kissed me. With each press of his warm tongue, I clenched harder, hungrier. His mouth stoked the flames inside me, and within seconds, he was lifting me up the wall, reaching beneath my dress, and spreading my legs.

His thumb pressed against my soaked underwear, ready, waiting.

His hand banded around my back and he was moving, turning us until I was flopped down on my back on the bed, him crawling over me. He climbed on top of me, straddling my hips and pinning my wrists to the bed. Being trapped beneath him was exciting. He was hard and heavy on my stomach, and I squirmed, trying to wriggle upward so he could rub it lower between my thighs. He kept himself supported on his hands and knees, so I wasn't crushed beneath him, but he was close enough our bodies were connected.

I arched my back, pressing harder against him. I wanted to feel his weight on me. His hand coasted over my leg, up under the dress. It was so he could grip the back of my thigh and lift, draping my leg up over his waist.

"Oh," I whispered, turning toward him and grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt, stretching it carelessly in my hands as his fingertips brushed over the crotch of my panties. There wasn't time to catch my breath before his finger pushed inside me. There wasn't time to think, not about anything but him. It was how he was in life.

He invaded. He conquered.

He claimed.

The stretch to accommodate him felt good. So, freaking, good. His thumb flicked across my clit while his long finger pulsed in and out at an unhurried pace. He remembered how I liked it. What he'd done before. It was torturous, yet filled me with bliss.

One finger gradually became two, and I was hopelessly out of breath. Whimpers and soft sounds of need dripped from my lips. I wasn't going to last long like this. He moved faster and harder, reaching a spot deep inside me that caused my legs to tremble and my pulse to roar.

"Look at me," he demanded.

Part of me didn't want to. I knew it would be my undoing, and I wanted to live here in this moment just a little longer, balancing right at the edge before he took me over. But when he asked for it, I immediately complied, and, oh his eyes.

His gaze was a weapon. It was an arrow, slipping past any defense I could mount, driving straight and true into my heart.

I came with a cry, my gaze locked on his.

I came hard, the cry barely passing my lips before his mouth was on mine, devouring the sound as he strummed my pleasure higher and higher. Wave after wave. God, it was too much and not enough, and if I could think properly, I'd be terrified that I'll never get enough. My knees gave out, he didn't miss a beat. Taimoor guided me back and far enough up the mattress until he was notched between my spread thighs.

The way he looked at me.

All the physical pleasure I felt was reflected in his eyes. Like me, he enjoyed giving just as much as receiving. Maybe more. The sensations wracked my body, washing me in heat and ecstasy, and as soon as the orgasm released me from its clutches, I gasped for air.

"Off," I clawed at his shirt, dragging it off him. He moved to help me, depositing the shirt somewhere in the bedroom, his fingers making a quick work of my dress. With the dress gone, I lay before him in the most expensive lingerie I'd ever owned, purchased for our short and delayed honeymoon. The mesh and lace were the exact shade of my skin tone.

It hid nothing, not the dusky color of my nipples or the place between my legs.

It was like an optical illusion. Only the faint outlines and the pattern of the lace showed on the bra and panties. I looked naked otherwise. Yearning flooded through me, and I hoped at least a fraction of it showed on my face. Taimoor's eyes had gone hot as he looked up at my body. The way he drank me in visually was something I didn't think I'd ever get used to. He was so contained the rest of the time, but the second I got naked, it was like a beast was looking out at me through those grey eyes. Heat swept through me, surging between my legs. In mute fascination, I watched his gaze discover my nipples beneath the thin organza and travel lower, tracing the lines of my body and devouring every swath of exposed skin.

"You have me in your bed, now what are you going to do?"

His low chuckle had me fighting not to arch back against him again. Then he lifted my hand with grace, bowed his head, and rested his hot mouth upon the inside of my wrist.

"Everything."

Did I think this man was dangerous when I thought he held my death in his steely eyes? The joke was on me. He was a thousand times deadlier when he was whispering filth in my ear. It felt different than when he touched me but just as good. It stimulated my mind, rather than my body.

The feel of his lips sent my heart into the decorated rafters. But it was the wicked glint in his eyes that stole my soul.

He was danger. Sin encaged in muscle and bone.

He shifted back and I barely got a chance to mourn the loss of his touch before Taimoor pushed on my shoulder, all but shoving me onto my back. I blinked up at him. His gaze flicked over my face. I captured my bottom lip between my teeth, pleasure ripped through me in a hot flash, landing as a pulse in the center between my legs.

I forgot that my lips and mouth were made for anything else except to be one with his. Taimoor groaned as he ravaged my lips, biting at the tender flesh and marking it for himself. His stubble hurt a little too much, it was just enough to scrape, just enough to scratch, as he moved his kisses to my neck and then ducked his head to nip at my throat. And each stroke of his tongue further intoxicated me with the mix of desire and danger which coated it so sweetly. He rested his palms on my ribs and swept his thumbs over the skin and my dainty nipples. The tiny buds hardening beneath his touch, stiffening into small peaks.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I gave myself over to him with a cry, dropping back to the mattress and digging my hands into his curls. Taimoor's hair should be illegal. It was so incredibly soft and just long enough to get a good grip. His mouth closed over my stiff bud and my legs fell wider without my having any intention of doing it, and the low sound my husband made was nearly enough to push me over the edge."I need you."

"You have me," but he grabbed my hands, stopping me from undoing the front of his pants. "Wait. Condom."

Before my mind could catch up, he went out and came back with a handful of condoms, and tossed them onto the side table next to me. I looked at them and then at him, my brows raised.

"Someone's ambitious."

There was a fine tremor in his hands where they bracketed my wrists."I was a boy scout."

I huffed out a laugh."No, you were not."

"No, I was not," he broke away long enough and said. "I need you."

"You have me," I repeated.

He took me at my word, reclaiming my mouth as he got busy stripping me out of my underwear and bra, mapping the path with his mouth. His pants hit the floor a mere moment later and then his naked body was against mine, the delicious slide of his skin against mine going straight to my head.

"Okay so far?"

I nodded and in the blink of an eye, I was crushed against him, a large hand between my shoulder blades and the other on my ass, pressing my pelvis against his. I didn't care if it was impetuous, I was already nodding.

"I don't want anything between us. I just want you."

Taimoor didn't ask again. He shifted forward, guiding himself to my entrance. I held perfectly still, staring at the tormented expression on his face as he sank into me, inch by inch. The sharp uncomfortable feeling returned and I stared at the ceiling, trying to keep myself from crying out. My hands flew out to the sides, looking for something to grab as he thrust deeper. He was so big and it burned. My muscles were screaming trying to adjust to his size.

"Breathe babe," his quiet encouragement was sandwiched between deep gulps of air. "You're so tight, you feel so good."

"Why are you so big?"

He pushed in further and I arched off from the bed, moaning my approval, and it made him wild.

"You'll be grateful for it," his tone was sinful as the bed creaked quietly from his strong thrusts. His hips weren't even on the mattress anymore, giving him more room to piston himself in and out of me. I did not feel like myself. Someone else had taken possession of my body, a wanton, reckless creature who cared only for pleasure and the consequences be damned.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered.

He laughed a little, the sound choked.

"That was my line," he dragged in a shuddering breath. "Somehow, I feel like it's the truth when you look at me like that."

"It is the truth."

"Say, my name babe. I want you to call out my name," his breath was hot against my ear. I felt the faint scratch of his jaw against mine. I was going to have a burn there.

"Moor," I swallowed.

"That's right. It's yours to say, yours to use."

I nodded, feeling his face against mine, melting into his searing certainty, his undeniable lust. He reclaimed my hips and began moving, sliding in and out of me in long, smooth strokes. It felt so good, I could barely keep my eyes open. Desperate, urgent, mindless sounds drifted from him. Sighs and groans soaked in pleasure. It made me squeeze my thighs harder against him. I went crazy, bucking and jerking in shackles of masculine flesh and testosterone.

I lost track of time. Of my fears. Of everything but the two of us in this bed.

He tightened his grip on my hip, urging me to move a little faster, chasing the orgasm I could already feel building deep inside me. I didn't last another sixty seconds. Between his whispered words and his touch, I was lost. My orgasm crashed through me, drawing a cry from my lips. Taimoor toppled me to the bed and then he was thrusting into me, harder and faster, his expression a mask of need. He wrapped his arm around me, holding me to him as he ground into me, chasing his pleasure. When he came, he buried his face in my neck.

He stared down at me with a dazed look, proceeded to slide off me, but I was having none of it. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held him close. "Not yet. I'm not ready to let you go yet."

"You never have to let me go," he pressed a kiss to my neck and leveraged himself up so he could look down at me. I nestled into his chest, enjoying this closeness. It felt like we had turned a corner. I was not aware of what the future held for us if we could get through this current mess, but a strange sort of hope took up residence in my chest. Neither one of us uttered a word into the stillness that settled around us. It deepened the contrast between the quiet now and the sounds of sex that had filled the room just moments before.

It was a battlefield after the cannons had gone quiet, and he lay on the bed as if I'd slain him.

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Late update, but worth the wait. They've done the deed my friends, rejoice. Italy has done its job. I thought about stretching this out, but there's plenty more to come 😉 More dates, romance etc... so I expect a lot of comments 😠

Feedback, comments, thoughts? 🙈
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