by Avery Laval
Marissa’s throat went dry with need. “I should go,” she tried to say, though the words came out in only a raspy whisper.
Khalid’s brow wrinkled with a frown. “Is there someone else?” he asked, releasing her face, stepping back an inch.
Frantically she shook her head no. “No one,” she admitted. Not since you, she thought, but thankfully managed not to say.
He grabbed her hand in his and held it to his chest. “Then stay. See how one kiss sends my heart pounding?” He stopped for a second and moved their hands to just above her left breast. “And yours too. We’re here, together, just for tonight. Why shouldn’t we let ourselves have something that you know as well as I do will be amazing? Who will we be hurting?”
A thought flashed into Marissa’s mind: me. It would be her that could get hurt if she let this happen. “You don’t know how long I wished to have this again,” she said, her voice choking with emotion and longing. “But.”
“But you are in Cairo,” Khalid interrupted. “And I am too. Even you said you believed we were both here for a reason. What other reason could there possibly be?”
She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, as if she hoped that ridding herself of the sight of Khalid would somehow erase the temptation. It was useless—she could still feel the heat on her cheek where his hand had been. She opened her eyes again and searched his face for an answer. “Only tonight?” she asked him at last, knowing that an evening of pleasure with Khalid would be worth any amount of pain later.
“Tonight, but there will be no only about it, I promise you that,” he uttered, and again he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers in another dizzying kiss.
This time, when Khalid kissed Marissa, she kissed back. Passionately. Her lips parted for him and her tongue met his and licked playfully, then darted back and licked again. The sensation of her surrender—of knowing she was his, absolutely, if only for tonight—drove him wild. Not for the first time he recalled how unsatisfying other women had been in their three years of separation. She was so different—so complete in her desire, utterly absorbed in the act. In that respect, at least, she hadn’t changed at all. When he pulled back for a breath, she leaned back and shook her head side to side, driving back the tumble of hair from her face, then stepped closer to him and ran her hands up his arms, leaving them energized somehow. He wound his own arms around her waist to pull her even closer, and leaned down to connect his lips once more with hers.
This close, her breasts seemed to press more insistently against him. He hated to ignore them, picturing their creamy roundness, but forced himself to linger longer on her lips, nibbling first the top lip and then the bottom, softly at first, and then with just the slightest scrape of his teeth. She moaned into his mouth and he pulled her in tighter still. Then he raked his lips from hers and dragged them over to the place just below her ear, where he kissed a trail behind to where her hair became soft wisps. With one hand still around her waist, he moved the other to push away the curls and graze her neck, then kissed the sensitive skin at the nape. With his tongue, he retraced his path, taking the lobe of her ear gently into his mouth and suckled. Sneaking a peek at her face he saw that her eyes were closed, her mouth parted in an inaudible gasp of pleasure. The sight made his burgeoning erection swell further, and in response, she wriggled her pelvis closer to him.
At that, it was he who was gasping. If there had been any question of her intentions before, there were none now, now that she pressed her warmth against him hungrily. She wanted him. But she would have to wait.
Still lapping at her ear, Khalid used his other hand to lift up her chin, giving him easy access to the long line of her neck. First he stroked it up and down with his fingers as slowly as he could muster, then he kissed where his hands had been, making a lazy path from her jaw to the collar of her shirt. Undaunted by her moans, he opened the collar and pushed the fabric aside, continuing down to her collarbone, where he nipped and licked the ridge and then—gently, incredibly gently—lapped his tongue in a tiny circle in the divot where the collarbones met. Her moans stopped suddenly, and he knew she was focusing intently on the sensation, so he lingered there a moment longer. And then, unable to delay himself for even one more second, he tore his lips from her flesh and set about the business of stripping her naked.
At the very first button, she seemed to regain consciousness, and she covered his hands with hers. “Let’s go inside,” she murmured. “Come with me.” Still holding his hand, she turned and made her way through the balcony door, her hips swaying as she stepped into the cool quiet of his suite. The sight of her from behind threatened to be his undoing. As soon as they were both clear of the dining room table, he scooped her up and carried her down the stairs, through the living room, and back up to his bedroom. With her still balanced in his arms, he threw open the French doors but didn’t bother to close them again—after all, tonight, no bodyguards would be stationed inside his quarters, no aides would barge in. Tonight, they would have the kind of privacy he’d forgotten could even exist. And he would make the most of it.
“Khalid,” Marissa whispered, looking up into his eyes beseechingly. “I need you now. Don’t make me beg.”
He smiled at her words. Begging would be only the beginning. “I make no promises, Habibti,” he rasped, laying her on the enormous four-poster bed. Still standing, he leaned above her and unbuttoned the white blouse she wore, one button at a time. As each new inch of flesh became exposed, he caressed it, running his fingers through the valley between her breasts, over the white lace of her bra, and then down her belly. She gasped and sucked in her stomach when he reached the area around her navel, but that only made him laugh. “Relax,” he told her. “You’re every bit as sexy as I remember.” Then he sealed the statement with a string of kisses across her soft stomach.
Next he removed her shoes, lingering just as long on the curve of her instep and the angles of her anklebone, before making his way up her long, bare legs, up to the knee, where he abandoned her yet again, just to watch the expression of frustration cross her face. “Patience,” he told her. “I intend to make this last.”
With that he reached for the zipper on the side of her skirt and pulled it down. When she was free of the skirt, he finally allowed himself to take in the full sight of her, raking his eyes over her near-naked body. But she was not naked enough, he decided, sliding his fingers underneath her white bra, pressing the cups aside so he could take first one nipple, and then the next, between his fingers.
Groaning, Marissa reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, throwing it to the side. Then she went to work on him, reaching up to pull off his sweater. He allowed it, ducking his head as it slid over his shoulders. He knelt on the bed next to her so he could run his hands over her breasts and down, down to her panties.
The touch was more than she could take. She propped herself up on her elbows and then popped up to a sitting position, then pushed him down by the shoulders on his back. Before she could work the belt from his trousers, he rolled them both over, wriggling out of his pants all the while and kicking them to the side of the bed. “I said patience,” he muttered, but already he knew it was too late, his need was too urgent. He had to be inside her and could not wait.
“Forget patience,” she cried. “I need you, Khalid. Now.” And with that she pulled off her white panties and grabbed his hand, putting it between her legs—where he found her hot, wet, and inviting. It was too much. He dragged his body away from her, to the top of the bed, where he knew he would find a box of condoms. He grabbed one and tore it from its packaging, then he returned to her where she lay flushed and wild-eyed. In a flash his boxers were gone, the condom was on, and he was atop her. And then, like his life depended on it, he slipped inside.
It was sweet, as amazing as he’d remembered, making love to her, pulling his hips back slowly and thrusting once more inside her warmth over and over again. The rhythm of it was so easy, so natural, and yet each push and pull made
the dizzying rush behind his eyes mount, until he had to close them and think of anything—anything—other than the sight of her lifting her hips to him below, the way she arched her head back and seemed utterly unleashed. But even with his eyes closed, he felt the contraction and release of her muscles around his shaft as he filled her, and the sensation threatened to undo him. She reached up her hands, smacked them flat on his chest, forcing his eyes wide open and his desire up another degree. She pushed him so he’d lean back and angle his thrusts upward. And then when she’d arranged him exactly where she wanted him, she grabbed onto him and whispered, “There. Oh please, God, right there.”
There was no question she was close. The tightness seemed to increase around him as her moans grew more frantic. She was gripping his biceps like her life depended on his every move. He shifted his balance ever so slightly to free up one hand, then reached around to her bottom and squeezed the muscled flesh there in the same rhythm of their sex, adding to the intensity of every inward push. Finally, when he knew she was at the edge, he leaned down to graze her nipple with his teeth. She screamed out his name, the first syllable distinguishable but the second only a frantic cry. The shuddering of her around him became more than he could bear, and he tumbled down after her into that bottomless well of pleasure.
When he was completely spent, he let himself surrender to the heaviness in his limbs and rolled to the side, lying on his back with a relaxed moan of satisfaction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her chest heaving up and down, her eyes closed and her face completely relaxed. For a long moment, he thought she might slide off into sleep—it certainly was a promising prospect for him, and he let the world grow a little dimmer in that perfect relaxation of contentment. But before he was fully out, he felt her soft hand on him again, curling around the base of his penis. He propped himself up on his elbows.
“My God, Marissa. Again, already? You’ll kill me,” he groaned playfully. But then he saw the look in her eyes wasn’t playful at all. It was a look of shock.
“It’s not that,” she stammered, and at last he looked to where she was staring, where her hand held his most sensitive area. What he saw was not what he expected, and he gasped.
“The condom,” he uttered.
Marissa nodded. “It broke.”
4
For several seconds, the world around Marissa stopped turning.
From somewhere very far away, she saw Khalid raising himself off the bed, rushing to the en suite bathroom, where he was doubtlessly taking off the wretched condom. She heard him swearing, and the water in the sink running and then turning off. He would be coming back in here, she knew, and she knew too that now she had to tell him everything. She should have done it before. But at the last minute, when over dessert Khalid had demanded she tell him why she was there, she’d panicked and decided against telling him about the baby she’d lost. And then he’d surprised her with that kiss, and as much as she hated to admit it, she’d let herself go along for the ride, be swept away by the sensation of Khalid’s lips and hands and body. All thoughts of confession had gone out the window along with her composure.
Until now. Now she had no choice but to face what had happened and what she’d kept from him for so long. And it terrified her.
The bathroom door opened with force and slammed against the doorstop, adding to her anxiety. Khalid, still naked and magnificent, stood with a look of annoyance in his eyes exactly like the one that had been there when he’d first spotted her at the hotel restaurant. Suddenly the bedroom, so hot and close a moment ago, felt icy cold. She shivered and pulled the plush white comforter up around her body as a shield.
“Are you on any other form of birth control?” he demanded.
Marissa shook her head. Taking a pill every day had seemed a pointless waste after she’d realized he was never coming back for her. And since then, there had been no one interesting enough to make her come out of her self-imposed celibacy.
Khalid only grunted. “Where are you in your cycle?”
She looked up at the ceiling, as if she would find a calendar there. Or maybe an escape hatch. “The middle,” she told him after counting back the days in her head.
“If I remember correctly from Biology 101, that’s the dangerous time,” he said gruffly.
She nodded.
“Shit,” he growled. His face was as hard as stone but his eyes spoke volumes. Anger. Irritation. Regret. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Marissa nodded again. Then the tears started.
She tried to choke them back, but they came too fast. She tried to breathe deeply for calm but it was useless, just a sputtering, lip-trembling, inward gasp. Humiliated, she buried her face in the comforter, too embarrassed at her emotional response to even look at him.
“Oh, for the love—stop crying,” he commanded, which only made her cry harder. “Oh, hell.” He did nothing for a long time, and let her cry, and soon she felt the flow of tears provide their calming release. He seemed to sense this, or perhaps he heard her sniffles slow. “Marissa,” he said, more softly. “Marissa, please.” He sat down on the bed next to her and put an arm around the lump of covers she’d become. “Don’t cry. This isn’t your fault. No one could have predicted this would happen.”
“That’s just it,” she murmured from underneath her tent of bedcovers. “It’s happened before.”
There was a long period of silence.
“What?” he said at last.
She repeated herself, not moving the protective duvet.
He yanked a corner of it up and leaned his head low so he could see her. “I heard what you said,” he scolded. “But I want to know what it means.”
With a sigh, she moved the duvet completely away from her face, knowing that her smeared eye makeup and tear-stained cheeks should be the least of her concerns now. “I had a pregnancy scare back when you were in America,” she began. “Right at the time when your grandfather found you, actually.”
“But you were on the pill then,” Khalid said, his face an unreadable mask. “You had your period like clockwork.”
“I was careless, and I forgot a pill,” she explained. “And they say it’s only 99 percent effective if you take it at the same time every day—no mistakes.”
“You never mentioned any mistakes to me.”
“That’s because I was sure it was a false alarm. And then after a few more days, when my period still didn’t come, I decided to buy a pregnancy test so we could find out the news together.” The memory of that day slammed into her, and she felt her eyes well up again.
“Why didn’t you, then?” Khalid’s voice was growing impatient.
“I did. That was where I went that morning. The morning when you found out—who you were.”
That stopped his questions dead. He leaned back a little, propping himself up on his hands, and looked off into the distance, as if he too were remembering every detail of that fateful morning. “I don’t understand. You went out for bagels. You were so hungry you rushed out the door like a bat out of hell.” He paused, processed this, and then groaned. “Of course you rushed. Because you were off to the pharmacy for a home pregnancy test.”
Marissa nodded, exhaled again on a long sigh. “But when I got home, there was no chance to talk to you. You were gone so fast there was no time to think.”
Khalid turned to her and brushed one rogue tear off her face with the rough pad of his thumb, a sympathetic gesture that reminded her of all that they used to have. “I’m sorry, Marissa. I’m sorry I left you alone with that burden. I had no idea, but I should have taken the time to let you tell me. So you wouldn’t have been left with that hanging over your head.” His words were more comforting than the duvet around her shoulders, and for the first time since she’d seen the broken condom, she let herself look him in the eyes, to try to show him how grateful she was for his understanding.
But then he went on and shattered that illusion. “But it doesn’t matter now, does it? Obviously, it was a false alar
m then. And that’s what this will be, too. The chances are one in a million.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Of course he’d assume it was a false alarm, since she’d never told him anything. And now, when she explained the truth, he would be furious. She steeled herself for his anger, wishing she could be anywhere but there, about to say what she had to say: “It wasn’t a false alarm. I was pregnant.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Marissa straightened her shoulders, as if she had to be ready for a physical onslaught instead of just an emotional one. What would he say to her? What horrible accusations would he make? He’d be so busy ranting at her she’d never be able to make him listen, understand her side of the story. She inhaled, ready to plead her case, to beg him to forgive her and to try to understand what she’d been thinking.
But Khalid was silent. He did not rant, did not shout, did not leap off the bed and point his finger at her accusingly or throw the bedside lamp to the floor in fury. He said nothing at all. He didn’t look at her either. He simply stood up from the bed—the bed where only minutes ago they had been lost together in the kind of pleasure Marissa had nearly forgotten could exist—and turned away from her. And strode out of the bedroom, closing the French doors behind him with a soft click.
The moment Khalid was out of that suffocating bedroom, he found he could barely stand. He rushed to the guest bathroom and pulled on a fluffy hotel robe, belting it tightly around his waist, as if the terry cloth would some how keep out the onslaught of emotion. It did no such thing. He crumpled onto the nearest sofa, his hands in tight fists, then rose again after a few moments, when he decided that he could stand, but not breathe. With a few long strides, he made his way to the balcony, the place where he’d first given in to his damnable urges and kissed her tonight. The farthest point in the suite from where she was now.
Even out there, with the city noise and warm air and the darkness surrounding him—the candles had burned out into waxy puddles on the dessert table—he felt utterly raw. Minutes ago he’d been so lost in her body, so empty-headed with desire, that nothing could have hurt him. And then his mind went back to the moments after their lovemaking, when his illusions had shattered.
