He hesitated for a second, before grabbing my waist and fully claiming my mouth with his.

Every part of me became alive and tingly. There was just so much want, and so much of it, that pounded through me.

I shifted back, his lips scorching mine, heating my blood, and setting fire to my senses. His hands moved to my shoulders, sliding down my arms, dragging the material down my body. His hand skated over my collarbones, brushing along my heated skin.

"Ali," I whispered, dragging my mouth away from his. He groaned, his body enveloping mine. "Ali," I repeated.

"Hmm,"

"We're..." his eyes came to meet mine, his face dawning with realization. He got up, fixed his shirt and his hair. I leaned back, my abaya pooled around my waist, my veil on the ground beside me.

Ali reached out, readjusting my abaya, and carefully placing the veil back on my head, making sure to sweep my hair away. He grabbed my hand and gently pulled me to my feet, his hand warm and steady on the small of my back.

We exited the library, ignoring the gazes of every single person we encountered on our way back to our rooms.

The white marble corridor shone with the saffron-hued light of the sun. It was barely midday and the sky was darkening rapidly. A random glance to the horizon revealed a wall of brown air stretching high. 

I could see people running around in the courtyard below, hands raised to protect their faces, fingers lifting the neck of their clothing to cover their mouth and nose. Servants moved around closing doors and windows, trying to block out the rushing, tapping sound of dirt hitting the palace walls like rain.

My eyes were already stinging from the impending dryness and I squinted to keep my focus. Ali forged ahead, his head still held high, his steps unwavering. He seemed to be used to these harsh conditions.

If I'd been at my father's house, the windows would have been closed and boarded up my now. He would have already locked us together in a room, prepared to weather out the storm.

Oddly enough, I'd never felt safe in that locked room with my father, but I felt safe walking in the wide-open corridor with my husband.

We reached our rooms, Ali firmly locking the door behind us. I looked around, finding the windows shut, the corners and crevices blocked using small pieces of clothing. Someone had already lit the lamps, casting dim lighting all around the room.

We were alone. Locked in our room, together. For the remainder of the day.

Ali turned to look at me, his eyes questioning, his face blank. I stepped back, not knowing what to do, feeling my heart come up to my throat. He stepped away from me, his face softening at the indecision in my face.

"Give me a minute," I squeaked, running to my chambers.

My hands tore the veil off my hair, shaking at the action. Was today going to be that day? Was this it? Did I want this?

I took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm the heat in my blood. I definitely wanted this. My father had made the choice of marrying me to him. My freedom was gone. But my body? That was my choice. And right now, it wanted him. No, it needed him.

My eyes caught a familiar brown package placed near my wardrobe. I walked over and unwrapped the red silk negligee. Biting my lip, I shed my dusty garb, placed some lavender oil behind my ears, brushed my hair, and slipped it on.

Gathering up my courage, I walked out to Ali's chambers, my heart pounding in my chest.

He stood exactly where I'd left him, his back towards the entrance, his eyes on the door leading to my chambers, his body tense with anticipation. 

I walked in, suddenly feeling shy, not taking my eyes off him. Ali didn't respond, and I wasn't sure if he'd even taken a breath. He looked as if he were soaking in every inch of me.

I fidgeted and he smiled, his throat working as he gulped and took a step forward, his hand coming up to brush the hair away from my face. "Is, is this what you bought that day?"

I nodded, his gaze slowly tracking back to mine."You're beautiful," I couldn't help but shiver when he stepped closer, his body brushing mine.

He gripped my waist, pressing me against him, letting me feel the contrast in our clothing, taking it slow. "If you want me to stop," he said as his palms glided up to the curve of my shoulders. "Tell me."

I nodded, seeking his mouth. When my lips met his, I wondered how I'd made it this long without kissing him. I wondered how I could go on without doing it more. This was an addiction. This was madness.

That thought threatened to dampen the heat, but his hands were moving again, skimming over my skin and sending a rush of heated blood to every part of my body.

He moved us to the bed, his mouth not leaving mine, his body pulsing with desire. He gave me a gentle nudge, and I scrambled back, watching him prowl on top of me, his body fitting into mine. His hardness snug against my softness.

Ali's mouth captured mine again and I sank my fingers into his hair, the strands just as soft as I'd thought they would be. No other part of him felt that way. He was all hard heat against me.

He pulled back and dragged his shirt over his broad shoulders, leaving him glorious and naked in front of me. My hands reached out, hesitant, brushing the hard planes of his chest. Ali jerked his head back, panting as he rested his forehead against mine. "Laila," he said in a way that made my name sound like both a prayer and a curse.

"Yes?" My fingers moved down his body, resting on his lower stomach, brushing the top of his silwar. God, he was hard as steel.

He grabbed fistfuls of the negligee, lifting until he had pulled it over my head, leaving me naked. A tremor went through me like lightning.

There was no time to feel insecure, his heated gaze was lighting a path down my body, forming a new, unmentionable ache.

Everything became a blur when he took his sirwal off, throwing it casually across the room. My gaze strayed, and my eyes widened. I bit down on my lip, knowing I probably shouldn't stare. It seemed indecent to do so, but I wanted to.

His legs came to tangle with mine, the rough hair of his legs abrasive in the most surprising, pleasant way, but the feel of him against my hip caused a nervous swallow.

I didn't have much time to think. His hands descended on my body, kneading, touching, wanting, his mouth leaving small bites, nibbling on my skin. I whispered his name as he kissed me, losing the edge of consciousness, just floating on the intense feelings his mouth was generating.

His lips trailed over every inch of exposed skin, and when his hand moved between my thighs, I cried out. Instinct took over, guiding my body—my hips to push and roll—he shuddered, coming back and catching my bottom lip between his. I placed my hands on his chest, marveling at the way his body jerked as I slid them up over his shoulders and then around his neck.

One of his fingers slipped into me and my head fell back against the mattress. I was aware that I was writhing, squirming, and there was no sense of rhythm behind my movements. My moans could have woken the dead and I was glad that the storm outside was masking our noise.

Ali looked at me, the intensity in his stare scorching my skin as his gaze caught and held mine. My entire body flushed and trembled. He never looked prouder of himself as his mouth parted and the tip of his tongue glided over his lips.

"So beautiful," he muttered. I stared back at him, wanting to feel his intense eyes on me. He nipped at my neck, his hand roaming over my breasts. "Okay?" He asked, his body poised at my entrance. I nodded, my senses whirling at the feeling of him settling between my legs, prodding, pressing in just a bit.

He shifted, changing the angle and so I could feel him, shuddering as he pushed in, inch by inch. A sharp, pulsing ache throbbed through me, a lone tear escaping my eye at the sudden fullness.

"I'm sorry," Ali shuddered, a deep sound emerging from the back of his throat, sort of like a half-growl, half-moan.

"It's okay," I whispered out. This was expected. This wasn't new. I was stretched out and I didn't think he was even fully immersed in me yet.

I took a deep breath and the burning lessened. This was how it felt the first time. I knew this, I'd heard plenty of women describe their experiences. Ali waited, his observant eyes never leaving my face, his body tense as he held it above me, waiting, careful not to crush me.

"Relax," he breathed out, his voice strained from his restraint.

I shifting forward trying to find some comfort, our hips were melding together. His arm trembled, but he held back, not moving, giving me time to adjust. At what seemed like an eternity later, I moved. Just an inch.

My eyes widened."Oh," Delicous friction zipped along my body. I tested the movement again, nervous, slowly rocking against him, wanting the friction. His answering moan, another deep, rough sound, shattered whatever hesitancy I had.

Little shivers of pleasure and panic darting through me as he swooped down and parted my hungry lips. The hunger behind our kiss should've scared me—and maybe it did a little because it felt like too much and not nearly enough all at the same time, but we were moving together, the only sound in the room that of my softer sighs and his deeper moans.

Muscles low in my stomach tightened as a ripple of pleasure skittered through me. The lines of Ali's face became sharper, and the tendons in his neck stretched. I moaned as his hands drifted down my sides. It felt like my body was sparking, igniting—

I cried out as the foreign sensation whipped through me, arching off the bed, my body curving into his, just as he closed his eyes.

Under my hands, his muscles flexed and rolled, and then his head kicked back, and he cried out my name, shuddering.

I can't.