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“Really?”
“Yes,” he said. “You make me feel like there is no end to the heat that we can create. And that... That is simply ours. It does not belong to anyone else. For so many years my life was only mine. Well, with the exception that I could not choose to leave the dungeon. But within that dungeon, it was mine. Ever since leaving, it has been so much more about what others want from me. And this is a hazard of being born the Sheikh. But it has been a change. If I am to survive all of this, it is not simply about you teaching me how to behave. It is about you giving me a space where I do not have to. And what about you, Brianna? Who are you apart from all of this? Who are you apart from all these demands you place on yourself? You teach people to be civilized. Perhaps I should teach you how to be wild.”
He could see conflict in her eyes. He hated that these moments between them were all conflict.
He crossed the space to her, and pulled her up into his arms. “I am outside. Beneath the sky and the sun, because I can be. And I would have you naked. Out here. Because we can. And damn everyone else. Damn everything else. Yes, there is much twisting and contorting for all of this. For all the people in there. For all the people out there. But here we are, just the two of us. What will we make it? Will you allow yourself to be wild? Will you allow this fire to burn your skin?”
“To what end?” She sounded sad, desperate.
“To feel,” he said. “To feel all of the things that we weren’t allowed to.”
And that seemed to spark something in her. Desire. Madness. Something. Because then she wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Deep and hard, the desert sun exacerbating the heat between them.
Bringing it to a raging inferno.
“You will be my wife,” he said.
“Yes,” she whispered, sounding broken.
“We do not need to be a sitcom, Brianna. We are wild. And we have already been held captive. Why should we continue to hold ourselves prisoner?”
And then she began to tear at his clothes. As if she was desperate to remove any barriers between them. Or remove the last vestiges of civility. He knew that he was.
For this was freedom. Here in the blazing sun. This was perhaps who they might’ve been if they had not been forced to be anything else.
“Habibti,”he said, his voice harsher as she reached down and wrapped her fingers around his raging arousal. He wanted this. Wanted her more than anything.
And he knew that things were not settled between them. That while she might marry him, there was work yet to be done. Miles to be traveled on a road where they could find something companionable between them.
There would always be a wall up within him. There would have to be.
For her own good.
But they both wanted this, now. But she felt that desire to be with him now. But he had been right when he had said she needed to release hold on those chains. And she was expressing that freedom in the same way that he wished to. Which meant that he was right about more than he was wrong about. And with her, that was all that mattered.
“Show me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Show me what you would do if there were no bonds. If there were no restraints. You are that wild thing that survived a childhood with a crime lord for a father. Be that wild thing. Show me what you are.”
She grabbed his face, and kissed him, and then she raked her nails down his chest, the pain searing and arousing all at once.
“Yes,” he growled. “Give me everything.”
She moved her hips against his, her desire as insistent as his own. And he put his hand there, and found her slick and wet with wanting.
She gasped out his name but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. He wanted everything.
Because they had been in chains. Not just during their time when they were held captive, but in this time when they were trying to rejoin the world. They had muzzled themselves. And they had... They had it difficult. Figuring out what was real, what was wrong and what was innately part of what they were.
And so now... Now... They were owed freedom.
He pushed two fingers inside of her. “Come for me,” he growled.
She ground her hips against his hand, and she shattered.
And he didn’t see the point in holding back. The point in pretending that the roar that was building inside of him wasn’t there. He was not civilized. And he never would be.
Not with her. She was his, his.
And maybe that did make him as bad as the people who had held him captive. Just maybe.
