The burn of a hard flush swelled up from Fern’s throat, choking her and making her cheeks ache. She was such an idiot.
Somehow she managed to say, “Didn’t you tell me all your friends suffer the effect? He’s...” She lifted a helpless, hopeless palm. There weren’t words to describe how compelling he was or why she’d fallen under his spell. She just had.
Amineh’s shoulders fell and she smiled with amused sympathy. “They do. And you shouldn’t take it personally that he’s completely oblivious. Oh, Fern.”
Fern waved away the compassion, glad Amineh assumed her crush was platonic, not one fueled by midnight encounters of the most licentious kind. But the prospect of losing those trysts sat like a knife in her chest.
Fortunately the news they were leaving cast a pall over the whole camp. Her long face was one of many. The children were querulous, distracting the adults from Fern’s morose mood, and when Tariq invited her to join them for the final meal, she had a valid excuse to maintain her privacy and keep her misery from being noticed.
“I really do have a lot to gather up and pack. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll miss you,” he told her, making her want to hug him, which was odd for her. She had worked with children his age as part of her certification, had enjoyed them immensely, but being affectionate with students wasn’t encouraged and she wasn’t naturally effusive. Perhaps Zafir had unlocked something in her. She finally felt like she had warmth to offer.
“I’ll miss you, too. You’re a remarkable young man. But I’ll see you in a few months, when you visit your cousins.”
She wouldn’t see his father, but what she had with Zafir was already stolen property, not something she could keep.
She took her time memorizing every aspect of him when she held him that night. He seemed to be doing the same. They’d taken to drawing out their caresses these last few nights, letting the sensations build upon themselves, learning to hold each other at the height of passion so every sensation was played out to its greatest degree.
He sat with his back against pillows pushed up against her stack of packed bags and baskets. She kneeled on either side of his thighs, both of them naked and damp, trembling with arousal. Her mouth couldn’t stop feasting on his and his hands were firm and thorough, like he intended to imprint his touch on her skin forever.
Rising onto her knees under the urge of his hand on her bottom, she offered her breast for his loving attention. They had perfected silent communication, keeping talking to a minimum for fear of discovery, making love blind in the dark.
He tugged at her nipple, tender and bruised by the sweet, nightly torture of his insatiable appetite. It hurt and felt so good. She let her head fall back as she fought groaning aloud at the acute sensations. How would she survive without him? Without this? She’d never felt so free as she did when she was with him. He was magic and fantasy and perfection.
Folding her arms around his head, she kissed his hair and drank in his dark scent, her eyes burning with an emotion she feared was far deeper and more permanent than infatuation.
He pulled back and drew her down to kiss her hard, to stake his claim on her mouth in a fierce way that threw her heart into flight. She pressed herself to him and writhed in desperation, wanting to crawl inside him and stay with him forever.
Her movements slid her throbbing loins against his rampant erection, so firm and ready. She felt like her hands knew that part of him better than she knew her own body. She moved herself against him, wet and aching, aware that abandoning herself this way aroused him nearly to the breaking point.