‘No, habibti, no running away. Open your eyes.’
And with that, he slides inside—barely—once again.
‘Why are you doing this?’ I hate how whiney my voice sounds, hate how my body struggles against him fruitlessly.
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Doing what?’ I almost screech. ‘I’m not doing anyth—’
‘So you like me withholding your breath? Your neck clasped in my hand?’
‘No,’ I reply instantly. I didn’t, I don’t think.
‘Then you want me hard in your arse?’
My reply isn’t as quick this time, though I use the same word. I turn my head and refuse to look at him. He grips my chin hard, turning me to face him.
‘Then why would you let me?’ he demands.
Because around you, I’m defenceless. ‘Because I want to come,’ I reply instead.
‘And you want me to make you come?’
‘Yes, god damn it, I do!’
‘Why?’
My eyes clench tight as he pulls out, resting a delicious weight onto my pubic bone. My clit pounds as he tortures me, pushing me to the end of my endurance. Pushing me to want to scream. I’m so annoyed by his stupid questioning. So infuriated that he refuses to screw. The point isn’t that I couldn’t give him an answer, even given the use of a compass and a divining rod.
Imagine my surprise when I hear my reply ringing furiously in the air.
‘Because there’s no one else like you, you absolute...fucker! No one else who’s ever made me feel as brave or as daring or as desirable as you do!’
‘Then why did you leave me?’ he asks quietly, unmoving, his weight still balanced against me. ‘Why can’t you trust? Why did you run?’
‘Because I thought it was you. You know that!’ I full-on yell, heaving chest and bulging eyeballs, bucking against him; equal parts desire and rage. I want him inside me, on the floor in a heap. Want to ride his face. I want it all and I want none of it, because right now, nothing makes any sense.
‘I know that,’ he says very softly, slipping my stiffened legs from his shoulders and lowering them to his waist. ‘What I don’t understand is why you left without some sort of confrontation? Why wouldn’t you fight—’
‘Because I don’t trust myself around you.’
And there it is: the reason. Something lurking beneath my consciousness.
Self-preservation dragged me from the hotel. Without leaving, would I have had the strength to stay away?
All at once he pulls away, swinging his legs over the other side of the bed.
‘Defenceless.’ His voice is strained, like he’s trying not to yell. ‘I think I know a little of how that feels.’ Hands clasped tight to his thighs, the muscles across his shoulders stand taut as he exhales a breath that’s almost a shudder. ‘Until you left, it was just a word, but I understand better now. You left behind a wreck, struggling to work out what went wrong, wondering what the next step was. I warned you Faris wasn’t to be trusted. Told you his speciality is throwing shadows against cave walls.’
I move behind him, wanting to reach out and comfort him, but not daring to touch.
‘But what does it matter, you left anyway.’
‘I’m sorry.’ My voice is barely more than a breath. ‘I should’ve—’
He cuts off my words, his hand covering mine as he turns his head.
‘You know, my first instinct was fuck you.’ His words strike me almost physically. I try to pull away as his grip tightens. ‘You changed my life, Kate, and I didn’t ask for that. When you weren’t there when I got back from Riyadh, what was I supposed to think, supposed to feel? Be grateful for having known you? For finding out through you that love fucking hurts?’ His eyes blaze, daring me for an answer; every elegant line of his body drawing tight once more.
