“No. Me either.” Reaching up, I cupped the side of her face, tracing all the delicate lines and frowning over the bruises. “I want all of you. And you want—”
“A voice. I’ve never had a choice in anything.” She spoke more strongly.
She hadn’t accepted the key—not yet—but she hadn’t said she wanted to be with me either.
My heart made a furious beating in my chest, and I gathered what little control I had left.
Stepping back from her, I watched her from beneath slightly lowered lids. “So, what’s it going to be, prinkípissa? I meant what I said. If you don’t take the key, you’re never getting rid of me.”
Time stretched unbearably and then finally she answered. “I don’t want the key, Aris. I only want you.”
An intense shudder rippled through me.
I pulled her into me, dragging a hand down the length of her damp hair. I tugged, bringing her gaze to mine.
Powerful need bolted through me, but I kept the kiss much lighter than I wanted.
I whispered greedily, hungrily, hoarsely against her parted lips, “I am so fucking in love with you, Roya. Jesus.”
“You are?” Tipping her head back, she peered at me, her fingers ghosting along my jawline.
“Da. I was an ass. I was so fucking stupid. I’m sorry.” I bent my forehead to hers, circling my arms around her. “I love you.”
“I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m in love with you too then.” Her words tripped against my lips, separated from hers by just a breath of air.
I reared back. “Say it again.”
“Oh, Aris. Of course I love you. It was always you. It’s only been you.”
An internal roar of exultation made me clutch her harder, kiss her more wildly, taste her more completely.
Impatience tore at me.
I had to marshal all my control to drop back from her.
This woman that I loved.
The one I’d spend the rest of my life with.
And the Sheikh could suck it.
She’d just been through so fucking much, not to mention the past disastrous week. I couldn’t claim her with my body—my cock—not just yet.
Skimming my palms from her temples and into her luxurious hair, I noted the shadows beneath her eyes even as a smile tipped her lips. “You need sleep, my love.”
Then a shyness overtook her, a blush in her cheeks, a veiling of her eyes. “I have nothing to wear to bed.”
Usually, I’d say naked was best. But her headspace wasn’t there, and I wasn’t about to make her uncomfortable.
Instead, I clasped her hand and pulled her to a new dresser that sat across from mine. “Yes, you do.”
I slipped open a drawer, and she peered inside before fishing out the clothing.
She unfolded the items, holding them against her towel-covered body. “You bought me silk pajamas?”
And so much more besides. Just wishing . . .
“I had this fantasy of you . . .” My voice grew gravelly. “Coming to my bed. Sleeping beside me. Wrapped in my arms. All because it was your own decision.”
“Yes. It is.” Crushing the pajamas against her chest, she gazed at me. “I want that too.”
“But”—I hit her with a grin, looping my arms loosely around her waist—“if you wanted to wear one of my shirts instead—”
“Yes,” she said hastily.
Yes.
Bringing her a shirt from my closet, I watched in agonizing anticipation as she unwound the towel. The damp terrycloth drifted to the floor, leaving her bare.
I swallowed hard—not just because she was naked—but because of all those ugly markings on her beautiful flesh.
I wished I’d drawn out Abdullah’s execution, made him beg because of the suffering he’d inflicted on her only to finally end his life.
Roya pulled the sleeves of my shirt up her arms then glanced at me. “Will you help me, Aris?”
A tightening sensation clenched in my groin.
“It’s all right to touch me,” she added.
Drawing the backs of my knuckles gently down the center of her body, between her breasts to her tummy, I kissed her more softly than a whisper.
I pulled both sides of the shirt together, bending my head to button her up, the urge to sweep her onto the bed and rut between her legs a force that I shoved aside.
I rolled up the sleeves, shaking my head at the deep gouges on her wrists. “I should wrap these again.”
“Okay.”
Nodding, I led her to the bed and sat her down. I came back to her with a roll of gauze and some antiseptic, more salve for her lips. I took very good care of this woman who was the center of my soul, my entire being. And, afterward, I tucked her in and followed her right into bed, reacquainting myself with the soft warmth of her body, the delicious fragrance of her.
She turned into me, as if she needed to make sure I was there as much as I needed the reassurance that she was here and safe and with me.
In love.
Her fingers roamed across my chest before stilling above my heart that beat only for her.
“I’ll be right here. I’ll watch over you,” I assured her.
“I know.” The most peaceful smile transformed her lips before her lids fluttered down and her breaths slowed.
In my arms.
I’d harbored a hope. That somehow she’d come back to me.
Yeah, fuck it. Sometimes dreams did come true. And all it took was a light touch, not a cudgel.
Although—as Roya slept in my arms—once she fully recovered, I knew I’d be hard put to deny us both the pleasure of bondage, rope play, mmmm, nipple clamps . . . the list went on.
All of which could wait, because I finally had what I wanted, needed . . .
Her love.