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Ilyas felt the change too.
One moment he was fighting to get her to take a drink, the next he was fighting with himself not to kiss her. But thankfully Maggie suddenly complied and took in some of the fluid, though most of it she already wore down her neck and chest.
He was sitting on the bed, holding her, and in that brief tussle everything had changed. His grip on her loosened and Maggie was aware of her body and his in a way that she had never been before.
‘There, I’ve drunk it,’ she said, though her voice came out wrong, for even the cords in her throat were strung taut by his touch.
And he too fought for normalcy, and to remember the reason he had come in here.
He released Maggie and was about to refill the goblet but then he changed his mind, for the spilled liquid had wet the fabric of her slip, making it translucent. It clung to one of her breasts, the nipple puckered and taut. Ilyas’s voice, when he found it, was brusque. ‘I have no issue doing that hourly so, if you would prefer that I didn’t play nursemaid, I suggest you take another long drink before you sleep.’
He stalked out and she sat there with a sweet taste on her lips and feeling breathless from his touch.
And then, a beat too late, for he must have just remembered her request, she heard the sound of bells as he departed.
