Chapter 1
Five Years Earlier, Washington, D.C., USA
Jana Suleiman was perfect. Or, at least, that’s what everyone had assumed her entire life. And they assumed that perfection came easily for her. In reality, Jana had found it incredibly hard to live up to those almost unattainable expectations. That didn’t stop her from trying, though, because being a high-achieving, righteous, moral, and principled person was all she knew.
But after waking up incandescently happy for the first time in her memory, Jana wondered if she should have shed her perfect image a long time ago. Because right now, doing something a little unexpected, a little out of character, and a little bitbadfelt soooo good.
It was extremely early in the morning to be having this epiphany, but Jana was jet-lagged and a bit sore from the exuberant activities the night before (really, from a week and a half of the best sex of her life). She admired the toned, naked back of Anil Malek, the person who had been the catalyst for this discovery that her comfort zone was way too stifling. Lazily rolling onto her side, she wrapped herself around him tightly.
“You woke me up,” he said, voice raspy with sleep. Despite his words, Jana knew he wasn’t complaining. Their “relationship” was only in its infancy, but they both knew there wasalwayssomething better to do together than sleep.
“It’s not early. The sun’s up. I’m still on London time, anyway. I don’t have to go into the office today. What do you want to do?”
She and Anil had been traveling together for twelve days now and were currently in Washington, D.C., Anil’s hometown and the base for the agency where Jana worked. This was technically a business trip for Jana. She’d been working the last few months on opening a new maternal health clinic in Tajikistan. When Anil Malek turned up there to visit an old friend who happened to be Jana’s boss, no one, least of all Jana herself, expected Anil would join her on the next leg of her trip to London. Or that they’d start a hard-and-fast fling while there. Between her meetings, she and Anil went to museums, galleries, and antique shops during the day and spent their nights in bed in a tiny London hotel room.
Now Jana would be in D.C. for a month, settled into an extended-stay hotel where she assumed Anil would be spending a lot of time, too—since his actual home was a few hours away in Virginia. She’d never had a more fulfilling, more satisfying, morefunbusiness trip in her life. She kissed the back of Anil’s neck softly.
In one smooth motion, Anil rolled over and lifted Jana on top of him. She loved it when he did that. He was a big man…big and built. He could lift her in his arms with seemingly no exertion. He could pin her against a wall and devour her. And he had. Many times.
Jana adjusted herself so she was straddling his firm stomach, ignoring the twinge of pain from her protesting hips. It was no wonder—she hadn’t asked so much of her body quite like this since…well, since ever.
Resting her hands on his shoulders, she leaned down and kissed him briefly. His hands skimmed her thighs and landed on her hips. That ever-present mischievous twinkle in his eyes was there. It was amazing that someone like this—someone so…alive—wanted to be with Jana Suleiman, the woman who always played it safe.
“Well, we could always take in one of the Smithsonian museums,” he said. “Or a park?”
Jana shook her head. “We did the British Museum and the Victoria and Albert in London…I’m about done with shrines to colonization.”
Anil laughed as his hands trailed up Jana’s ribcage, sending a delicious shiver up her spine.
“Galleries? We could go shopping or take a tour of the historical sites.” His wide hands were spread over her breasts now, thumbs teasing her nipples, making her back arch. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. “Or we could stay in,” he suggested. “I’m sure we can find something to occupy our time.”
She laughed, letting her head fall so her shoulder-length hair skimmed Anil’s face. His hands slid up her back so he could pull her down for a thorough, all-consuming kiss.
Jana had never felt anything like this before. True, they’d had a lot of sex in the last few days, but that’s not all this relationship was. They were very different people—he was clearly more of an extrovert and could talk happily to every person in a room, while Jana preferred to retreat to a corner or read a book at home. But when they were alone, it was so easy between them. They’d talked for hours about their work in the development field. About their goals of bringing grassroots-style microdevelopment to a larger scale, and about how lifting women and girls could help entire communities. Jana had never been so in sync with anyone else about development philosophies and politics or even history and art. And she never felt her usual awkwardness with him.
But it was when they were like this, skin to skin, in the tiny bubble they’d brought with them from Central Asia to London, and now D.C., that Jana felt positive she’d found her soul mate—the one person in the world who saw her actual self. And loved her forher.
Not that he’d said he loved her yet. Neither had she…but she was on the way there.
Leaving her comfort zone—doing exactly what no one would expect Jana Suleiman to do—was the best thing she ever did. She shifted again, this time reaching over to the nightstand and getting a condom out of the drawer. Everything for Jana fell into place when she and Anil were alone, so why waste that time at galleries or museums?
***
After a few more blissful days in D.C., Jana and Anil were in an upscale Mexican restaurant gorging on beef barbacoa and the best ceviche she’d ever had. She’d wanted a margarita, too, but all her recent flights had led to a small sinus infection, and her antibiotics didn’t play well with alcohol. Jana had eaten amazing meals all over the world, and she was delighted that Anil was as big a fan of exploring cultures by eating as she was.
“I went to a restaurant on a beach in Cancún once that only served ceviche,” he said.
“That sounds like heaven.” Jana scooped some of the bright, citrusy diced fish onto a fresh tortilla chip.
“By the way,” he said, smiling, “my mom called today to tell me how much she liked you.”
Jana grinned. She’d been nervous about meeting Anil’s parents at brunch the day before—it seemed too soon to get families involved in their relationship. But she was so glad she went. Anil’s parents were warm, funny, and clearly so proud of his work. They’d asked Jana about her job and told the cutest stories about Anil as a child. Jana felt like she knew him better after seeing how much his family adored him.
“Your parents dote on you.”
He nodded. “I’m the golden son. Only-child syndrome. Your mom must be the same with you?”
Jana shook her head. “No…I…Mom and I aren’t really close. I haven’t lived at home since I was eighteen—not for more than a few months at least.”
