The Last Prince of Dahaar(75)

                He pulled the quilt to cover them both, kissed her temple and Zohra gave into sleep.

                * * *

                This time when Zohra woke, she was instantly aware of the exquisite soreness between her thighs. Every muscle quaked, her blood ran sluggish in her veins. She looked toward the huge windows and realized dawn was almost there. At some point during the night, she had lost count of how many times she had woken up to Ayaan kissing her, stroking her, tasting her, loving her, as if he couldn’t talk himself off the ledge, as if his thirst for her knew no beginning, no end.

                And every time, she had been right there with him, shocked at how much pleasure her body was capable of feeling, of how addictive and exhilarating it could be every single time.

                Realizing that the bed was empty, she stood on shaking legs. Even tugging her thick hair back and binding it into a ponytail taxed her arms.

                She slowly pulled on her pajamas and a silk robe, sensing his presence close.

                She found him in the sitting area. His hands on his thighs, his upper body slanted forward, his very posture radiated tension.

                For a few minutes, Zohra hung back by the sheer curtains that fluttered in the predawn breeze.

                It had been two weeks since she had left him in the desert encampment for Siyaad, two weeks in which she had mourned her father’s death, helped Saira and Wasim deal with their own grief, and somehow also found the strength to step in front of her family and face them down. Even though Ayaan had arrived only a few days after her, and had been present at all the important events.

                He had not, however, said even a word to her since his arrival.

                Lost in her own grief, she hadn’t minded. His silent presence had been enough for her. She had borrowed strength from it, knowing that he would catch her if she fell, even if he didn’t put it in so many words.

                She had been so grateful for his presence that she hadn’t realized when something began to fester between them, something she couldn’t identify even as she racked her brain. She could feel the connection they had found slipping from her fingers like sand, could feel him retreating but had no way to stop him.

                So she had come to his bed, despite the fact that he had forbidden her to be near him at night. And just hours ago, she had been ecstatic that he had slept next to her, hadn’t asked her to leave.

                But now, the same silence stretched taut around them, deepening the chasm between them, dragging him further and further away from her. She must have made a sound because he looked up. And sprang to his feet as if she were an explosive that could detonate any second.

                Even in the meager light of the table lamp, she could see the dark color that rode those sharp cheekbones. “Zohra, you are...I...I lost all control.”

                Heat pumped to her own cheeks now. She struggled to hide the questions that shot at her from all sides. “I am fine.” She shoved the fear that was clawing at her and smiled. “Everything you did, I wanted, Ayaan. Was I not vocal enough?”

                His gaze burned brighter, hotter, the sharp angles of his face reflecting the tightly reined in emotion within him. “Ya Allah, I behaved like an animal. I...”

                She covered the distance between them and practically fell into his arms. She couldn’t bear it if he became a stranger again. “I am definitely sore, though.”

                His curse should have turned the air blue. His hands stayed on her shoulders, his entire body stilling in that way of his.