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He went on. “Just promise you will not be too good to Aram. You’d be doing him a favor exercising some…severe love. Otherwise his head will keep mushrooming, when it’s already so big it’s in danger of breaking off his neck.”
She rose, gave him a tiny bow. “I will consult with Queen Maram about the best methods of limiting the cranial expansion of pretty, pretty full-of-themselves paragons, ya maolai.”
His laugh boomed.
She could hear him still laughing until she got out of hearing range. The moment she was, all fight went out of her.
This had been harder than she’d thought it would be.
But she’d done it. She’d gotten Aram the last things he needed. Now to convince him that it wouldn’t mean losing her.
For though she was no longer secure in the absoluteness of his need for her, and only her, she’d already decided that anything with him would always remain everything she needed.
*
Amjad did far better than she’d expected.
The morning after her audience with him, he sent her a royal decree. It proclaimed that in only six hours, a ceremony would be held at the royal palace to pronounce her husband Zohaydan. And to appoint him as the new minister of economy.
She flew to Aram’s home office and found him just sitting on the couch, vision turned inward.
The sharp, ragged intake of breath as she came down on his lap told her he’d been so lost in his dark reverie he hadn’t noticed her entrance. Then as she straddled him, the flare of vulnerability, of entreaty in his eyes, made ever-simmering tears almost burst free again.
Ya Ullah, how she loved him. And she’d starved for him.
She hadn’t touched him since that night, unable to add passion to the volatile mix. He hadn’t tried to persuade her again. Not because he didn’t want to. She knew he did. He’d gone instantly hard between her legs now, his arousal buffeting her in waves. He’d been letting her guide him into what she’d allow, what she’d withstand.
She’d show him that for as long as he wanted her, she was his forever. That he was her everything.
She held his beloved head in her hands, moans of anguish spilling from her lips as they pressed hot, desperate kisses to his eyes, needing to take away the hurt in them and transfer it into herself. He groaned with every press, long and suffering, and remorse for the pain she’d caused him during her surrender to insecurity came pouring out.
“I’m sorry, Aram. Believe me, please. I didn’t mean what I said. It was my insecurities talking.”
He threw his head back on the couch, his glorious hair fanning to frame his haggard face. “I’m sorry. And you had every right to react as you did.”
She pressed her lips to his, stopping him from taking responsibility. She wanted this behind them. “No, I didn’t. And you have nothing to be sorry about.”
His whole face twisted. “I just am. So cripplingly sorry that you felt pain on my account, no matter how it happened.”
She kissed him again and again. “Don’t be. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I can’t bear your uncertainty, ya habibati. I can’t breathe, I can’t be…if I don’t have your belief and serenity. I’d die if I lost you.”
“I’m never going anywhere. I was being stupid, okay? Now quit worrying. You have more important things to worry about than my insecurities.”
“I worry about nothing but what you think and feel, ya kanzi. Nothing else is important. Nothing else even matters.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about. Since only you…only us, like this…matters to me, too.” Her hands feverishly roved over him, undoing his shirt, his pants. She rained bites and suckles over his formidable shoulders and torso, releasing his daunting erection. A week of desolation without him, knowing that his seed had taken root inside her, made the ache for him uncontrollable, the hunger unstoppable.
But it was clear he wouldn’t take, wouldn’t urge. He’d sit there and let her do what she wanted to him, show him what she needed…take all she wanted. And she couldn’t wait.
She shrugged off her jacket, swept her blouse over her head, snapped off her bra and bunched up her skirt. She rose to her knees to offer him her breasts, to scale his length. He devoured her like a starving man, reiterating her name, his love.
Her core flowed as she pushed aside her panties then sank down on him in one stroke. Her back arched at the shock of his invasion. Sensations shredded her. Aram. Claiming her back, taking her home. Her only home.
She rose and fell over him, their mouths mating to the same rhythm of their bodies. He forged deeper and deeper with every plunge, each a more intense bolt of stimulation. She’d wanted it to last, but her body was already hurtling toward completion, every inch of him igniting the chain reaction that would consume her.
As always, he felt her distress and instinctively took over, taking her in his large palms, lifting her, thrusting her on that homestretch to oblivion until the coil of need broke, lashing through her in desperate surges of excruciating pleasure.
