Chapter 13 - Abram
I watch her from across the kitchen, my throat tight with restrained desire. Zara moves with graceful ease, settling into my home as if she's always belonged here. It's been two days since I brought her to live with me, yet each moment feels like exquisite torture, especially since we don’t yet share a bedroom.
She reaches for a mug in the cabinet, her t-shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of smooth skin. I grip the edge of the counter, willing myself not to cross the room and press her against the cool marble.
"Coffee?" Zara asks, her voice still husky with sleep.
"Please," I manage, drinking in the sight of her bare legs extending from tiny cotton shorts.
She pours two steaming cups, padding over to hand me one. Our fingers brush as I take it from her, sending electricity racing up my arm.
"Sleep well?" I ask, desperate for normalcy as we sit at the breakfast table.
Zara nods, a small smile playing on her lips. "Your guest room is very comfortable. Thank you again for setting it up so nicely for me."
"If there’s anything you’d like to change, please do and add it to my card," I say, meaning it more than she could know. Having her under my roof, so close yet untouchable, is both heaven and hell.
We eat in companionable silence. I try not to stare as she delicately cuts into her waffle, bringing small bites to her pink lips. God, how I long to taste those lips again, to feel her soft skin under my hands. To ride up that shirt, catch a glimpse of those round breasts riding up through her bra… to spread her legs and slam her around on her knees.
But not yet. I've waited this long—I can give her more time to adjust. Tonight, though…tonight I'll make my move. I'll show her exactly how much I want her, how perfectly she fits into my life and my bed.
For now, I content myself with stolen glances.
After we finish our meal, I clear my throat, setting down my fork. "I was thinking, if you're up for it, I could show you around. There are a few new pieces I've acquired that I think you might appreciate."
Zara's eyes light up with interest. "I'd love that. It's been so long since I designed this place; I'm curious to see how you've made it your own."
"Excellent," I say, rising from my chair. "Shall we start upstairs?"
She nods, following me as I lead her through the duplex apartment. My pulse quickens as we climb the stairs, her ass moving so delectably right in front of me. It takes every ounce of constraint not to reach out and give her a little playful smack.
Once upstairs, I point out various artworks and minor architectural changes as we go, savoring her impressed reactions.
Finally, we reach the door to my bedroom. I hesitate for a moment, my hand on the doorknob. "There's something in here I particularly want you to see," I tell her, pushing the door open.
As we step inside, Zara's gasp is audible. Her eyes widen, fixed on the large painting dominating the far wall. It's a striking piece—a nude woman, her back to the viewer, her curves rendered in soft, sensual strokes.
"Oh, Abram," she breathes, moving closer to examine it. "It's beautiful."
I watch her, drinking in her reaction. The way she tilts her head, studying the brushwork, the slight flush creeping up her neck. She's even more captivating than the artwork before her.
"I'm glad you like it," I murmur, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. "It reminded me of… well, never mind."
“No.” She turns quickly. “Tell me,” she urges, cocking her neck at me.
I clear my throat, my voice low and husky as I begin to describe the painting. "The artist captured such exquisite beauty here. The gentle curve of her spine, the soft glow of her skin…" I pause, my eyes flickering to Zara. "It reminds me of you, actually. Your grace, your allure."
Zara turns to me, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Me?" she whispers.
I nod, taking a step closer. "The way the light caresses her form, it's… ethereal. Just like you."
Our gazes lock, and suddenly, the air feels thick, charged with an electric tension. I can see the rise and fall of Zara's chest quickening, matching my own rapid heartbeat.
"Abram," she breathes, her voice barely audible, and I see her lips part just a little.
I'm drawn to her like a magnet, my body moving of its own accord. We're so close now; I can feel the warmth radiating from her skin.
My hand rises, fingers ghosting along her cheek. Not yet, I tell myself, as my hand itches to rip off her clothes. She deserves perfection.
"Come," I whisper, fighting the urge to close that final distance between us. “There’s a lot more to see.”
***
As night falls, I lead Zara to the dining room after we share wine in the living room, my hand hovering at the small of her back. The sexual tension constantly lingers, crackling between us like live wires. I pull out a chair, the soft velvet upholstery whispering against her skin as she sits.
"I hope you're hungry.”
Zara's eyes meet mine, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Starving," she replies, but the way her eyes roam over my torso makes me wonder if we're still talking about food.
I move to the kitchen, returning with a tray laden with carefully crafted dishes. "I had the chef prepare something special," I explain, setting a plate before her. "Seared scallops with a saffron beurre blanc."
The delicate aroma wafts up, and I watch as Zara's eyes close briefly, savoring the scent. "It looks incredible," she murmurs.
I take my seat across from her, unable to tear my gaze away. The candlelight flickers, casting a warm glow across her features. "I wanted everything to be perfect," I admit, lifting my glass.
Zara's fork pauses halfway to her mouth, her eyes locking with mine. I wonder if she can hear the pounding of my heart beating so loud in my own ears.
"For me?" Zara's voice is soft, a hint of confident joy coloring her tone. "You shouldn't have gone to so much trouble, Abram."
I lean in slightly, my voice dropping to a low rumble. "Nothing is too much trouble. I want you to feel at home. To take over this place, the kitchen too. I have the numbers for the chef, cleaner, and driver on the refrigerator. Please, use them as your own, Darling."
A flush creeps up her neck at the term of endearment, and I find myself captivated by the way it spreads across her cheeks. She takes a sip of wine, her eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the glass.
As we continue to eat, our conversation flows easily, peppered with subtle flirtations and loaded glances. I find myself leaning closer, drawn in by her wit and charm.
"Tell me," I say, cutting into my own scallop, "how are you finding this change so far? Not too fast, too soon, I hope? I’d hate for you to feel uncomfortable."
Zara's lips curl into a coy smile. "It's been… interesting. You’ve made everything so comfortable, Abram."
"And the company?" I can't help but ask in a teasing tone.
She laughs, the sound light and melodic. "The company is… palatable."
“Palatable,” I playfully wince.
“ Perfect, ” she corrects after a moment’s silence, looking right into me with those honey-brown eyes. There’s more she’s saying, just from how she has me locked in her gaze.
I can't tear my eyes away from her. As the night progresses, every movement, every soft laugh, every fleeting glance she throws my way ignites a fire within me. My mind wanders, conjuring vivid images of what I'd like to do to her.
In my head, I'm pushing her against the wall, my hands roaming her curves. I picture lifting her onto the table and scattering the dishes to the floor as I lay her down. In this fantasy, her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer as I—
"Abram?" Zara's voice cuts through my reverie. "You seem… distracted."
I clear my throat, shifting in my seat. "Sorry,” I murmur, not finding an excuse. “I was just admiring the view.”
Her cheeks flush a delightful shade of pink. "Oh? And what exactly are you admiring?"
I lean in, my voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Everything."
The tension between us crackles, electric and palpable. This right here, is how I make my move. “Zara,” I growl, leaning across the table, and she moves toward me, her chest heaving without restraint. I'm about to jump off my chair, grab her in my arms, and suggest we retire to my bedroom when suddenly—
*Ring! Ring!*
The shrill sound of my phone shatters our intimate bubble. I curse under my breath, fumbling for the device in my pocket.
"I'm sorry," I mutter, glancing at the screen. "I have to take this."
Disappointment flashes across Zara's face, mirroring my own frustration. I answer the phone, turning away from Zara to hide my expression. "Vladimir, what is it?"
“Brother, there’s trouble. We need help and backup.”
Trouble isn’t good. Trouble can mean life and death.
As I listen to his urgent words, my face tightens with concern. My jaw clenches, the muscles in my neck tensing. "I see. How bad?"
Vladimir's voice crackles through the line, detailing a situation that makes my blood run cold. This is worse than I thought. I run a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Don't do anything until I arrive." I end the call, turning back to Zara with a heavy heart.
Her eyes are wide with worry. "Is everything alright, Abram?"
I force a smile, not wanting to burden her further. "Just a small business emergency. Nothing for you to worry about."
"You have to leave?" The disappointment in her voice is evident, matching the ache in my chest, my plans for the night dissipating into yet another dream.
I nod, moving to her side. "I'm sorry, Zara. I wish I could stay, but this can't wait." I cup her cheek gently, my thumb brushing her soft skin. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."
She leans into my touch, her eyes searching mine. "When will you be back?"
"I'm not sure," I admit, the weight of my responsibilities pressing down on me. "But I'll return as soon as I can."
I lean in, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. The scent of her perfume lingers as I pull away, reminding me of what I'm leaving behind.