“You’re sure you’re okay with this, Kamila?” he whispered.
And this was why she was okay. Because Rohan would always make sure she was safe and protected first. He would always put out her fires. Putting out her fire right now meant staying as close as physically possible. She smiled softly and nodded, tilting her head to kiss his hand on her face. “Please,” she whispered.
And then he devoured her in a deep, all-consuming kiss. Holy heck, Kamila was reminded that he was a thoroughly excellent kisser. She shouldn’t have been surprised; he was exceptional at everything he did. She pressed herself closer against him, loving how their bodies molded together. Fit together.
He’d always been her friend—this was just that. Friendship—reinvented. Leveled up. She moaned quietly as she ran her fingers through his hair. His hands on her waist searched until they came into contact with her skin. He lifted her shirt a bit, a question in his eyes. She grinned and sat up, pulling the shirt over her head, then watched while he did the same with his own. Then they were chest to chest, and Kamila couldn’t believe how good it felt. She shivered as she felt his warmth envelop her. She closed her eyes and turned off her brain, because his skin against hers and his hands on her body were too perfect and she didn’t want to break this spell with reality. His head dipped to explore her chest with his mouth.
“Found it,” he whispered, and then he traced her tattoo with his tongue. She had a full body shudder, having no idea that her rib cage was such an erogenous zone. He moved back to her breasts and then up her neck. She clutched him tightly, feeling like Rohan had both thrown her overboard and was the only thing that could save her from drowning.
“Kam,” he whispered, before coming in for another devouring kiss. He still called her Kam, the name she’d preferred when she was younger. Even that day seven years ago, in her parents’ living room, he’d called her Kam and laughed as she’d straddled his lap. She’d never forgotten the feel of his body under hers. Of his strength, of his hands all over her.
Another night, another house, same man. That memory from the past was intertwined with another memory—the argument with her mother the next day. Mom saying Kamila wasusingRohan. That he was too good for her. That he was only humoring her, and he’d never take someone like her seriously.
Then Dad standing up for her. Fighting with Mom. The accident.
Kamila put her hand on Rohan’s chest, stopping him. And she rolled out from beneath him.
Maybe nothing had changed since then. Maybe she was still using Rohan. She closed her eyes and rested her head back on the pillow.
That kiss seven years ago probably meant nothing except two horny friends taking advantage of an empty house. But the hours and hours of teasing through her feelings about the aftermath weren’t nothing. But this time was different, right? Her mother wasn’t here anymore. Kamila had changed.
But her father was in a hospital. Scared and sedated. And here was Kamila, making out with Rohan Nasser again.
She whispered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m…This—” She located her shirt and fumbled it back on.
He put a hand on her cheek and looked at her tenderly. “Don’t apologize, Kam. We’re both tired and emotional.”
See? It didn’t mean anything. For either of them. “Okay.” Her voice cracked.
He pulled her close so her head was on his chest again, but this time it was bare. “Sleep, Kamila. We’ll deal with this later.” He kissed the top of her head.
She didn’t sleep. Not for a while. Instead, she focused on his heartbeat under hers and tried to figure out how to move on from this day.
She really didn’t know how.
Chapter 17
Kamila managed to get a few more hours of sleep but woke up shivering in the guest room. It was no wonder she was cold—Darcy wasn’t in her usual sleeping spot pressed against her legs. Also, the comforter in the spare room wasn’t nearly as cozy as her own down and high-thread-count duvet. And of course, the man she should definitely not be sleeping with, but was pretty sure she spent most of the night wrapped around, was no longer in bed with her, and he’d taken all his body heat with him.
She checked her phone. It was ten a.m. and she’d missed a call from her sister. She called her.
“Kam, good—you’re up. I’m at the hospital with Dad,” Shelina said.
Kamila frowned. “What? You came all the way from London?”
“It’s not like I live in London, England! London, Ontario, isn’t that far—of course we came. We had the nanny come early so Zayan and I could get on the road.”
Kamila sat up. “Okay, lemme get dressed. I’ll be there in a bit.”
“No, don’t worry about it. Dad’s doing fine, but they’re only letting in two guests per patient in the building. Zayan and Rohan are in there now. I’m in the parking lot.”
Ah. That’s where Rohan had gone. “What did the test results say?”
“Results aren’t in yet. They said we could bring him home when we have them. Dad’s spirits are good. I know you were here late last night, so rest up. You’re on Dad duty alone once we head back home, so let us take this shift.”
Okay, then. It was great to hear Dad was fine, and she supposed it was good that her sister was helping, but it felt a little weird to be told not to bother coming to the hospital. Then again, Rohan was there. Maybe he didn’t want to see her.
“Okay. I need to go get Darcy, anyway.” Kamila swung her feet to the floor. “Call me if you need me to pick anyone up, or if Dad needs anything, or—”
