Alistair had already shoved the women aside. He rose, adjusted his open shirt, and stalked toward us with a dangerous calm. The dancer froze mid-spin, sensing the shift in the room, and lowered the music to a faint hum.
“Vera, I’m going back to the apartment. Care to join me?” he asked tersely, his frame towering over me. His face held no trace of pleasure, just the tight strain of barely contained anxiety.
Omar rose and extended his hand to Alistair. “Forgive me. It’s time I head home. As always, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Your company’s technology never disappoints.”
“We’ll talk early next week,” Alistair replied. “Good night.”
“Good night, Omar,” I stood up with my handbag in tow. I took Alistair’s hand and walked away from our Arabian dream.
The cab ride back to Alistair’s Palm Jumeirah penthouse was cloaked in silence. He didn’t speak, not a word, his jaw locked as the city lights blurred past the windows. Inside the apartment, we slipped off our shoes and crossed into the living room. Only then did he face me, his hands closing around my arms, rubbing warmth into them as if to anchor both of us.
“You’ve been through a lot this year,” he said. “I won’t let you walk into something we might regret.” His eyes flicked to my abdomen, a fleeting glance that carried the weight of my tuballigation reversal, the fragile hope we’d carried since I moved into his home.
“I’m fine,” I said, holding his gaze. “Doctor Cohen did everything she could for me at Saint John’s. I’ve healed. I’m ready to move forward.”
“I’m not talking about just your physical well-being. I’m referring to your mental and emotional health,” he said, rubbing my shoulders.
“Scotty, you’re my soul. I trust you, and I know you won’t do anything to make me unhappy.”
“What happened tonight—I don’t feel it’s right. I can’t...Fuck.” Alistair cursed. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair before slamming his palm on the wall behind me.
“But you have my consent,” I said, flinching a little.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you, sweetheart. I struggled to give you space with Omar tonight. I’m a jealous guy,” Alistair admitted, lowering his voice. “I’m working on my outbursts. I’m seeing my therapist when we return to Lester Harbor.”
“Are you taking your medication? Is the dosage something you should talk about with your doctor?”
“I skipped a dose, but I’m back on track.”
“What happened tonight?”
“You,” Alistair declared. His taut and flushed cheeks ticked while his hands fisted into balls of anxiety.
I sighed and pulled his body into mine. “Do you want to talk about boundaries?”
“Can we try something I’ve never had?”
“I’ve got an open mind, and I’m always up for something new. Tell me, babe. What exciting adventure would you like to go on?” I unzipped Alistair’s pants to feel the warmth of his hardening cock.
“Pure monogamy,” he said, grabbing my ass cheeks. “No more third parties. Just us.”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. Not with his mouth claiming mine, not with his body pressed against every inch of me.
Somewhere in the heat, one truth broke through.
I was his. Always.
JULIAN
Vera
Friday, November 16
“Ilove you, Scotty,” I whispered against his ear in bed. “I belong to you, and you belong to me.”
“Care to prove it again?” Alistair teased, guiding my hand over his thick arousal.
“I thought I already did that last night,” I murmured, sliding my hand away to rub where I still ached—my sore ass cheeks.
