Once she’d showered too, they found themselves in the bedroom that overlooked the ocean. Sofia was wearing an oversized shirt, old, worn, with faded Italian writing he couldn’t decipher. Her tanned legs were bare, and his mind immediately slipped under the hem of that shirt, right to the space between her thighs. Right to the thought of him kneeling there.
“Which side?” Sofia asked, still avoiding his gaze.
“Whichever you want.” He paused, watching her. “You okay?”
Her brown eyes snapped to his. “Sure. Why?” Her voice cracked a little too high.
“Did something happen today?” Ilias asked, sitting down on the bed.
“No, why? I’m just tired.”
He nodded slowly. “Alright then. Let’s go to bed.”
Sofia chose the left side, and he took the right. Good for him. But why did the air feel so... charged? She seemed cool, but the air between them was tense. Tight.
Once they laid down, staring up at the ceiling, Sofia turned off the light. Moonlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a silver sheen on her face: her straight nose, those plush lips, freckles kissed across her cheeks. She looked divine.
“Care to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, prying gently, not pushing.
She pressed her lips together. “Everything’s fine.”
“Then why are you acting weird?”
“Because…” She sighed, stalling. “Because we’re sleeping in the same bed. And we shouldn’t be.”
“We’re adults, aren’t we? You said it yourself,” he teased, rolling onto his side and propping his head on one arm.
Her brown eyes, dark galaxies in the moonlight, locked on his.
“Yes. You’re right. We are adults.” She gave a forced smile. A fake fucking smile.“Goodnight.” She turned away from him.
“If you want to keep things PG-13 between us,” he said, voice low, “you’re going to need to turn around.”
Sofia stiffened, then slowly faced him, deadpanning. “Adults.”
“You’re the one making it hard,” he murmured. Then softer, “Turn my way.”
As if accepting an invitation to hell, she turned to face him. Now, face to face, she studied him, and he studied her. She wasn’t top-model stunning. She wasBotticellistunning. Her curves were a sculptor’s dream. Her skin looked like it would taste like honey and sunshine.
He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, then drifted lower, tracing her lower lip in lazy circles. She didn’t stop him. Her eyes stayed locked on his.
“I’m going to say something now,” Ilias said. “And I need you to listen carefully.”
Sofia nodded, breath shallow.
“It’s no mystery that I want you. Not just as a fake PR stunt, more. I crave you, like I crave a wave. But I’m ready to wait. I know what happened with Thomas scarred you. Anyone would’ve been. I understand. And I’ll wait until you’re ready.”
“Why?” she whispered, her fingers twisting the blanket.
“Because I need you in my life, Sofia. And I’m willing to suppress every damn thing I feel just to keep seeing your smile. To hear you laugh. When you're ready, when the time is right, I’ll still be here.”
“Thanks,” she breathed, eyes glossy.
“Anything for you, habiba.”
23
SOFIA
