Chapter 12
Shehryar
I paced the width of Mum’s room, assaulting the blood-red carpet with my vigorous steps.
Not just her room. Her and Prince Arsh’s room.
I wasn’t sure where the man had gone when he’d left the room—probably to start planning the fucking wedding they’d announced a half hour ago—but Mother was sitting on the sofa facing me while I walked back and forth before the TV. My nerves were strumming violently, not with any particular emotion, just one big, jumbled mess.
“You’re making me dizzy, Shehryar,” she said with a sigh.
I stopped abruptly, hands on my hips, and swung around to her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She straightened her spine, painting the picture of stern confidence. “I did. Several times.”
“No, Mum. You didn’t. You never once said you planned to marry Prince Arsh during our visit.”
The piercing pale-green eyes I’d inherited from her held a motherly look of authority, but it was softened by her gentle smile. “Because it wasn’t planned. It was an impulsive decision we made the day we found out the draft act had been approved.” Mum hitched her chin as I gaped. “But Sher, I am engaged to Arsh. We were going to marry one day, why not sooner rather than later?”
I could only shake my head in disbelief and frustration. We’d had this conversation so many times in the past nine months. There was no point repeating my worries, because she knew already, and I knew what she’d argue in return. That wasn’t what this conversation was about, though.
“Why not later?” I said, throwing a hand out. “Why the sudden rush to marry him when you’ve been waiting for four years anyway?”
A bittersweet smile touched her eyes and lips. “Because I have been alone for more than twenty-five years, Shehryar. And while I have been happy with my life and shared some moments with a few men, I have not had someone to love and to love me back.” Her faraway expression warmed with affection. “I have that now. I have Arsh. And I do not want to waste more time than I already have without him. So, yes, there is a rush, my dearest Sher. I want to marry him just as much as I want my next breath.”
Guilt stomped across my rib cage as I stared at my mother.
No doubt there’d been countless moments when she’d wanted a partner, a husband, someone to lean on and support her in every way they could. Someone to protect her. Because as much as I’d tried to be my mum’s protection as her son, it wasn’t the same at all.
I tried to pretend otherwise, but Prince Arsh was that person, and it probably seemed like I was trying to drag my mum away from the happiness and love she had with him. I saw it too, that’s why I felt guilty for acting as the villain with my concern.
But my unease was real and valid. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have held on to it for so long.
I dragged both hands through my hair, growing irritated with the way it kept falling over my temples and the curve of my ears. The longer look suited me, but right then it was pissing me off. “Mum…” I sighed heavily, dropping my hands to my sides. “What happens when the world finds out you married him in secret before the act was passed?”
“A valid concern, but who in attendance will tell the world?” She nodded her head to the side in consideration. “And in the case that it does find out, it is only a private ceremony, not a registry.”
“And what of everything else? What happens when your engagement is officially announced and people start digging into our past?” Anger knotted my brows tightly. “What about Father’s family? What happens when they find out? What if they try to twist the story against you?”
Mother pinched her brows together. “And what of it all? Do I put everyone else before my happiness? Because if that is what you are suggesting, Shehryar, then I’m disappointed.”
I shook my head, striding towards her. I crouched down and pressed my hands to her knees. “No, Mum. It’s not about that. I just…I don’t want anyone to target or criticise you more than you have already dealt with.” I squeezed her knees lightly. “I want you to be happy. I just don’t ever want that to be at the expense of the respect you receive. Especially as a result of Father’s family.”
She cupped my cheek with a lovingly tender hand and pressed a long second kiss to my forehead. “I know. But it won’t be.” A slight flicker darted across her face, but it was gone before I deciphered it. “And your father’s family won’t say anything. He won’t let them.”
I scowled in disagreement. “The only person he knows how to defend is himself.”
“Yes, but in this case—”
Anger surged through me, sending me upright with it. “Why are you defending him?”
Mother let out a steady breath. “Your father knows about me and Arsh.”
Cold caution crystallised in my muscles as her words echoed in my ears. “What?”
“Your father knows that I am engaged to Arsh,” Mother repeated, looking me right in the eyes.
I recoiled a step, part in shocked rage, and partly to look at Mum clearly. “What? How? Why?”
“I told him. When he last contacted me.”
Fury was too soft of a word to describe the chaos that broke loose inside me.
“When?” I snarled, my vision clouded in red. “How? Has he been harassing you? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What did he say? The fucking bastard, I’ll—”
“Sher—”
“No! You should have told me if he was bothering you. Why didn’t you tell me? How many more secrets are you going to keep from me?”
Mum’s eyes flashed. “Don’t raise your voice at me, Shehryar Timur.”
Yanking at my hair, I paced in a circle like a caged animal. I tried to keep my voice low and calm as I came to a quick stop. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She gestured to me. “Your anger, Shehryar.”
I jerked forward. “Well, how else am I supposed to react to finding out he’s been harassing you?”
“He isn’t harassing me. And if you just stopped and listened, I could explain it to you.”
I couldn’t keep still, but I managed to lock my teeth tight enough to keep my blazing words quiet. Mother sighed heavily. “Your father sends me the occasional email. Not to harass me or bother me. In fact, we don’t often ask about each other at all. But he does ask about you, Sher.”
I reeled back, disbelief splattering like cold water over my skin.
No way…there was no way the bastard asked about me.
Not after he’d let his wife kick me out of his house after I’d travelled hours to see him.
He’d told me never to return. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to see me ever again.
“You’re lying,” I croaked before anger slammed back into me. “ You’re lying .”
She shook her head softly. “I’m not. I can show you the emails if you would like.”
In return, I shook my head too. Harder. In denial. “Why would he?”
“You’re his son, Sher.”
“The son he wanted nothing to do with,” I hissed, the reminder burning through my chest.
She went to speak but sighed and slumped her shoulders. “I can’t defend him or explain his actions. Only he can.”
The meaning behind her words shone in her eyes, and I choked on a hoarse sound of shock. “Are you…are you saying I should talk to him?”
“No. I can’t tell you what to do, Sher. I can only tell you that he has asked to speak with you.”
“Speak?” I scoffed. “About what?”
“My only assumption would be your relationship. He’s your father—”
“No, he isn’t,” I snapped. “He is nothing to me.”
She was quiet for a dozen of my pounding heartbeats. “Then maybe this is your chance to change that.”
I laughed, but it was loud, hollow, and bitter. “It’s ten years too late for that.”
A sad glaze washed across her stare. “Give him a chance.”
My eyes widened. “ A chance ? How could you of all people say that? Why are you defending him?”
“I am not defending him. If anything, I’m doing the opposite.” She stood up and came towards me. “You were hurt by him. You are still hurting, and you’re angry. But you have never had the chance to talk it out with him. To make your feelings known to him. This is your chance to do that, dear.”
She put her hand to my cheek. I tried to pull away, but she pressed her other hand to the side of my face and forced me to look at her. “Talking won’t fix what he did,” I said roughly, quietly.
“Maybe not. But at the very least, you can get your answers and stop hurting over what happened. This is your opportunity to take your rage out on him and let some of it go before it drowns you. And maybe this will also help settle your worry about the future too.”
When I didn’t say anything, she drew my face down and kissed my forehead. “Think about it, Sher. I believe he’s in Touma right now too, so if you wanted to see him in person, you could.”
Fucking Neves…
I thought this holiday had turned to a shit show before, but only now was that officially the case.
Mariyah
The King and Queen of Touma took personal charge of helping me rearrange my return flight after I told my parents about the slight change of plans. Queen Leila herself let them know about Esmeralda and Kai’s engagement, and Katiya and Prince Arsh, so they didn’t question it. They were more than happy for me to stay longer, and Mum had sounded damn excited to be talking to the queen.
The whole time, I cursed Esmeralda in my head for putting me in the situation.
Why the fuck had the idiot thought it’d be a clever idea to volunteer me to plan Katiya and Prince Arsh’s private wedding? I didn’t know them well enough, and I’d never planned a wedding in my life, small or otherwise. On top of that, I had to plan it with Shehryar too.
In fairness, I knew volunteering me had been Esmeralda’s way of trying to help me figure out what I wanted to do with my life. And no one had forced me to agree. I’d chosen to do that myself.
I admitted a part of that agreement had come down to the way Shehryar had been reluctant to help. I understood his shock, but his attitude and the resigned look on his mother’s face spurred me into action. Of course, the dickhead agreed after, probably only to scorn my involvement.
So, not only was I going to spend the next week or so trying to have fun while ignoring the person I hated most in the world, but I also now had to work with said person to plan his mother’s wedding.
Fuck you, Esmeralda.
Later that same evening, I pushed open a carved wooden door and stepped inside the room, a notepad and pen pressed to my chest in my other hand. Ignoring the footsteps that followed behind me, I looked around the office. Prince Arsh had said it was unused, but it definitely wasn’t neglected.
There were two wooden desks perpendicular to each other towards the middle back and left of the room that looked ancient but sturdy, and on the right wall were floor-to-ceiling bookcases decorated with ornaments and vases. And in the bottom right were two cream sofas placed opposite each other with a dark wood coffee table between, and a red and gold rug spread across the wooden floor.
Prince Arsh had offered the space for Shehryar and I to use while we planned the wedding. But with the way Shehryar was behaving, I doubted we’d be in there long. In the prior hour or so we’d spent talking to Katiya and Prince Arsh about what they wanted for the ceremony, Shehryar hadn’t offered a single idea or word of encouragement, while me, the outsider, had been the one taking all the notes.
I wasn’t sure why I’d suggested discussing our next steps in planning. He was so fucking unreceptive it was easy to assume he was planning the event for someone he hated, not the mother he loved.
As the door clicked shut behind me, I made a beeline for the sofas and took the one on the left. Once I was seated, I adjusted the split sides of my jumper, then placed the notepad and pen on my lap.
A few moments later, the dickhead walked into view. He tugged at his black chinos above his knees and sat down opposite me, taking his time to get comfortable. When he was done fussing, he lifted his leaden stare to me, his posture slumped back in the seat and legs spread. He created the image of someone who was vexed and fed up.
I gave him the chance to start the conversation considering it was his mother’s wedding, but in my silence, all he did was arch an impatient brow.
This fucking—
Venom seeped between my clenched teeth, ready to shoot at him, but I swallowed it down, reminding myself this was about Katiya and Prince Arsh. I could try to be civil for them.
“So, your mum and Prince Arsh’s wedding,” I eventually said, opening the notepad on my lap. “They’re having it in the palace, so there’s no worry about finding a venue. Which also means the palace kitchen can cater the food. There’s not that many people, so I’m sure they’ll manage some appetisers and dinner, but I can ask just in case. Then there’s the issue of outfits—”
“Is there a point to this, or are you just wasting my time, repeating everything that was said already?”
The sharpness of his low tone, emphasised by his Jahandari accent, shredded the rest of my sentence to pieces. The edges of the fragments left a path of paper cuts across my cheeks and chest, filling me with an irritated, smarting sensation.
I lifted my gaze from the notepad to arch my brows sarcastically. “You were there in the room? Are you sure?”
“You might’ve noticed if you focused on anything but your own reflection.”
I gritted my teeth hard. There’d been a mirror next to the sofas in Prince Arsh’s office that I’d checked myself out in before I’d sat down and when I’d gotten up, but so what? My focus hadn’t wavered from Prince Arsh and Katiya while I’d been talking to them.
“It’s funny you say that because I still somehow managed to be the only one actually discussing the wedding with them.” I tilted my head. “What were you doing other than being a miserable asshole?”
His hard expression darkened further. “I was listening rather than shoving my own ideas down their throats.”
I flashed him a smile. “Well, someone had to care enough to make some fucking suggestions.”
The tic in his jaw was almost obscured by his trimmed facial hair but my smile widened upon seeing the evidence of his irritation. “So, as I was saying,” I continued. “The issue of their outfits is fine. Esmeralda said Kai’s friends with Lord Candy Hamilton, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to lend some of his pieces. And they wanted simple decorations, so winter flowers from the garden and some mini lanterns or candles will do. I’ll speak to the queen about that.”
I pointed the pen at him. “All you need to do is ring your grandparents and see if they wanna come for the wedding, then book them tickets if they say yes. Think you can manage that? Oh, and…” I clicked on the top of my pen and braced the nib against the page. “What does your mum like to eat? I’ll speak to Pierre about making her and Prince Arsh’s favourite dishes.”
He scoffed and, with the laziness of a big cat, leaned forward, resting his arms on his spread thighs. “Nur is the head chef. Not Pierre.”
“So? Your point?”
“Go ahead and throw yourself at him in your own time,” he said, his stare condescending and mocking. “But I’m not letting you use the wedding as an excuse. I’ll speak to Nur myself.”
An angry static charged across my skin. I wasn’t hurt by his implied insult, but I was fed up with his cold, spiteful attitude. He was acting worse than usual. He wasn’t retaliating to something I’d said, he was being purposely malicious, and his pale-green eyes lacked any emotion or care. He was supposed to be happy for his mother, instead he seemed like he was on a blind mission to inflict pain.
“What is your fucking problem?” I said almost nonchalantly.
“Why do you think I have a problem?”
“You mean other than the fact you’re acting like a fucking piece of shit when I’m only trying to help?” I scoffed. “And you had the audacity to call me selfish. But look at you.” I tilted my head and subjected him to a mocking once-over. “Acting like a neglected child and begging for attention just because your mum’s getting married.” I pouted and cooed my next words as if I were talking to a baby. “Is mummy’s little boy scared of Prince Arsh taking her away? How sad.”
The murderous darkness that cast over his face was something to be scared of, but my anger made me immune to it. Mostly, at least. When he slid right to the edge of the sofa, his legs brushing the coffee table, the little hairs across my back stood on end.
“Mistaking my silence for attention-seeking—”
“Silence?” I echoed in disbelief.
“—says more about you than it does about me, Mariyah,” he continued as if I hadn’t questioned his bullshit. “If you knew what it meant to put someone else before yourself, then you wou—”
“Oh, yes, I’m the most selfish person in all of Neves,” I said sarcastically. “That’s why I’m helping your mother and Prince Arsh, right? When her own fucking son embarrassed her by refusing to help!”
Fury stormed onto his expression, but it was quickly replaced by something sardonic. “Do you know what’s truly embarrassing?” he asked rhetorically. “Watching you be so loud and proud, trying so fucking hard to impress a room full of royals.” My shoulders stiffened as he shook his head. “You can’t call me an attention-seeker for keeping to myself when you act so showy just to sate your desperate need to be seen and liked by everyone around you. Because, you know, Mariyah, that without it there is no other reason for anyone to pay attention to you. You don’t have anything else to give nor anything else going for you. You’re just a self-centred, spoiled, little brat.”
The quick snap of his last syllable was punctuated by a ringing silence.
A thick knot tied itself around my windpipe, and I couldn’t get air into my lungs. They burned. Or maybe the sensation was my heart crumpling in on itself for a quick second before juddering back out and releasing a painful heat. It was almost a relief when cold anger twined through it.
He had no fucking right to talk to me like that or about me like that when he had no clue about anything. About how many times I’d talked myself into believing it would be selfish and stupid to tell someone about my self-doubt and anxiety because my parents had given me such a good life.
Curling my nails over the notepad, I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat. “Do you know what?” I croaked out, not lowering my stinging eyes from his. “Plan the fucking wedding yourself.”
I threw the notebook across the table; it deflected off Shehryar’s knee and clattered to the rug.
Hands in fists, I shot up from the sofa and charged for the door.
Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him! If he wanted to be a dickhead, then he could plan Katiya’s wedding himself and explain to her why I was no longer helping.
“Mariyah.”
I could only see the door; everything else at the edges of my vision was black. My temples throbbed from how hard I was clenching my teeth. I had to get out now.
But as I reached my exit, the warm, rough pads of broad, long fingers brushed my wrist. “Mar—”
I didn’t think. I couldn’t think. My mind blanked out.
Without missing a millisecond, I swung around, raising the fist still locked around the pen.
I slashed it through the air.
Shehryar recoiled, his head whipping to the side. His hand shot out blindly, grappling my wrist. He pushed it back, and the pressure from the funny angle sent me stumbling against the door.
Silence.
I was panting, my body trembling. Shehryar held absolutely still, his hand pinning my wrist to the door high above my head. He was so close I had to keep my head back to meet his frown.
Several heartbeats passed before his hand tightened to the point I could no longer feel my pounding pulse against his palm. “You could have seriously hurt me,” he rasped quietly.
“And you would have deserved it,” I hissed through my teeth.
The crevice between his brows deepened. With an abrupt step back, he tugged me from the door, yanking me to his right as he turned. My fist was in front of his torso, and before I could catch my balance and tear myself back, he grabbed the pen and threw it across the room.
“You fucking—get off me!” I clawed at his wrist with my other hand, trying to twist myself free.
But his iron grip was just as hard as his stare. “Be quiet,” he growled.
“Why?” I squared up to him. “Because you don’t want everyone to know you’re a fucking bastard?”
“Calm down, Mariyah.”
“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down,” I roared and shoved at his wide-arse chest. It was like trying to tumble a brick wall with a plastic toy bat instead of a sledgehammer. I did more damage to my palms and wrist in his grip than I did to him.
Shehryar didn’t even flinch. He just stared down at me for a quiet second. Then he turned and, with easy steps, dragged me past the sofas towards one of the desks in front of the windows.
I struggled and dragged my weight back, but it made no difference. “Shehryar! Let go.”
He swung me around just before the desk to stand in front of him, keeping hold of my wrist. Chest heaving, I glared daggers up at him. He glared back stern and frustrated, but there was an underlying calm to his posture that hadn’t been there when he’d thrown insult after insult at me.
I didn’t fucking care. I jerked my knee up, aiming for his groin.
His mouth winced, anticipating the impact, but his right hand shot down with stupid speed. He shoved my knee back forcefully. “Stop it, Mariyah.”
I ignored him and looked for another opening. His ear.
Misdirecting him by jostling my trapped wrist, I lifted my other hand to his right ear. He realised my trajectory quickly and grabbed hold of my wrist, but I was quicker.
I latched onto his ear and gave it a hard twist.
He grunted and dropped his head towards my hand, trying to ease the discomfort flaring in his angry expression. “Let go.”
Gritting my teeth in a satisfied sneer, I rolled my fingers, watching his ear turn white. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good after how he’d hurt me. It expelled a lot of the angry heat inside me.
“Mariyah!”
“You fucking dickhead,” I snarled.
His narrow eyes flashed. With a vicious grip on my wrists, he growled from deep within his throat. “That’s enough!” He ripped my hand off and, in my attempt to claw for purchase, I was sure I scratched the back of his ear. Good!
The bright beacon of red painting his ear remained at the corner of my vision as I fought his grip and he grappled for control. We grunted and shoved and pulled, neither of us relenting, both of us refusing to submit to the other.
“For fuck’s sake. Mariyah!”
I was blinded by perverse satisfaction when he let go of my left wrist, but the flash of bright white only lasted a second.
Shehryar practically threw my other wrist, transferring the grip around it from his left hand to his right and the force had me fighting the pull of a spin. But I failed when he pushed up behind me, grabbed my other wrist from around my side, and tripped me with his demanding step forward.
The front of my thighs met the edge of the desk, and Shehryar’s heavy weight bore down against my back. I doubled over with a gasp, gravity threatening to slam my face into the wood. I wasn’t sure whether my hands moved on their own or if they were encouraged by Shehryar’s ones locked above them, but I slammed them down on the wooden surface, bracing myself.
The silence that followed was loud. Thrummed in my ears.
My chest heaved on every panting breath. I was shaking down to my bones. My hair was sprawled all around my shoulders and neck, obscuring some of my vision, and I…it took my nerves a while to fully register what kind of position I was in.
Shehryar was all over me. Squeezing all around me.
His hot, hard chest, swelling and deflating with his heavy breaths, was flush against my back. His bull-sized shoulders swathed mine, and his tree-trunk arms made mine look dainty as they mimicked my positioning. The slight weight of his face was against the side of mine. And as I blinked at his shifting fingers around my wrists, I catalogued the press of his lower half and stilled.
My legs were slightly spread, my heels tittering up and down from the edge of the rug. His long, muscular legs were situated between, and my arse…
Was pressed right against his lap.
A shrill warning rang in my head as anger came and went in crashing waves.
This wasn’t a position I wanted to be in with Shehryar. It was too vulnerable. Too… problematic .
On a stuttered inhale, I clenched my teeth and jerked my shoulders. “Get off me.”
His weight pressed against my back. “Stop it.”
My heart flailed under the assault of his breath against the shell of my ear through my hair. A sticky buzz layered itself under my anger, and its presence speared me with a self-preservatory panic.
I slammed my shoulders back against his chest, trying to twist and drag my hands from his too. “Get off me, you fucking asshole!”
With a rough noise, he jerked me forward, lowering me further over the surface with his weight. “Stop moving and listen to me.”
Despite my high-strung emotions, I quickly stilled as the rumbling timbre of his voice wrapped around my throat. It didn’t choke me, but held me, commanding me with a stern yet steady grip.
It was frustrating that my body obeyed. But I hated more that in my immobility, I could feel the slight bulge that defined him as male pressing right between my arse cheeks.
He wasn’t hard…but that was no bloody peanut.
A sweet ache wafted through my sex at the realisation. But panic immediately followed.
No, no, no. This was not fucking happening.
The reaction was unwanted the way it always was. It was just my body looking for an outlet for the raging current charging me up. It didn’t care if that was an angry battle of words and hands, or if it meant being held down against the desk and pounded from behind into orgasmic oblivion.
My strumming body didn’t understand the difference. But my brain did, and it wanted out before it was forced to shut down to the command of my body’s needs.
Not with Shehryar! Anyone but Shehryar…okay, no, but not Shehryar.
Shoving my shoulders back as hard as I could, I whipped my head to the side, flicking my hair away and into Shehryar’s face. He hissed and winced but glared when I strained my neck to look back at him. “You have nothing to say that I wanna hear.”
“You can determine that after you listen,” he said, low and calm.
His composure sharpened my irritation at myself and as much at him. I didn’t want to be the only one feeling unnerved by the situation.
“I fucking hate you,” I spat and lurched back, rubbing my arse up against his groin.
As soon as I’d done it, I regretted it. Almost. Somewhat…a little bit.
Shehryar’s expression twitched as a sharp inhale hissed through his teeth.
He stilled. I froze. A smoky flare gun went off behind his irises, and warm liquid slipped to the base of my spine, gathering where his dick was pressed to my arse before trickling between my spread core.
Electric tension sparked and crackled between us as we stared at each other.
After a mini eternity, his brows set into a warning, and his jaw rolled. “Don’t do that again.”
Instead of feeling cautious of the coiling tingles his slow growl inspired, I felt even more defiant. I leaned into him and bared my teeth. “Then get your peanut dick away from me.”
I was quite proud of the insult until a smug light flashed among the smoke in his eyes. I held my breath as his mouth curved in a slight smirk. “Is that what you’re thinking about? My dick?”
His quiet voice brushed across my cheek like a purr. A mocking purr. It left a stinging blush in its path that gave away more than I wanted to. Of course, he fucking saw it—his face was right up in mine—and his smirk lifted higher.
For fuck’s sake! I wasn’t thinking about his stupid small dick.
Letting out a frustrated noise, I knocked him with my shoulder. He grunted from the impact. “The only thing I’m fucking thinking about is how I’m going to cut it off if you don’t get off me!”
He arched an amused brow. “So, you are thinking about it.”
His amusement had me fumbling—this wasn’t the Shehryar I was used to—but the fact it was at my expense pissed me off. That his dick was the topic was even worse.
“Fuck you, Shehryar,” I hissed, my brain coming up blank for other insults.
He scoffed, and arrogance deepened the lines of his expression. So did the undercurrent of heat as his hands tightened around my wrists. “That has another meaning entirely when you’re grinding your arse against me, Mariyah.”
My heart hiccupped, and a sharp burst of tingles pierced above my pubic bone.
What. The. Fuck.
The Shehryar I’d spent the last five years at war with had never once implied sex in all the clashes we’d had. Never once had this palpable, buzzing energy passed mutually between us.
I didn’t know how to react when his watercolour eyes were pinning me down, but the awareness as they seemed to peel my clothes off without moving away from my gaze was disconcerting. Being vulnerable in front of Shehryar didn’t feel right.
But it didn’t feel wrong either, and I didn’t know what to do about that.
“Now,” he said quietly, a husky firmness replacing his amusement. “Do you want to continue acting like a horny brat, or do you want to hear my apology?”
“I don’t want your fucking apology,” I snapped, blushing harder. “I want you to get off.”
With all the adrenaline-driven strength I could manage, I turned my face away and shoved off the desk. I lifted us both a few inches, but Shehryar leaned heavily on me and slammed my hands back down. In frustration, I shook and writhed against his lap.
Something stirred against my arse, and I halted as Shehryar let out a stifled groan in my ear.
My breath caught. No way, no way, no way. He’s getting hard. What the actual fuck?
Triumph warred with confusion and frustration at the shameless pleasure I felt from the situation.
Still, revenge was what I thrived off, and after a panting beat passed between us, I glanced back with a smirk. “And you had the audacity to call me horny when you’re the one groaning in my ear and poking my arse like a fucking dog.”
His expression turned thunderous. I half expected him to clap back, but he didn’t.
He eased off me, and for a split second, I missed the weight of him against me. It was only a weird, momentary lapse in judgement, though. As soon as his hands released my wrists, I shoved away from the desk and slipped out from between to face him.
Seeing him properly for the first time hit differently. It was unnerving, exciting, confusing, infuriating. His shoulders were pulled wide, hands in fists, his hair sat askew, golden skin faintly flushed, and…
The urge to look down was unbelievable, but I refused to give in to curiosity and give him that satisfaction. He didn’t need to know I was interested in seeing what I’d felt.
Without a word, I aimed my steps for the door. But like he hadn’t learnt his lesson, Shehryar latched onto my wrist and tugged me to a stop.
“We haven’t finished discussing the wedding,” he said as if the last ten minutes hadn’t happened.
“Should’ve thought about that before you insulted me,” I said, matching his unyielding tone.
His jaw locked and unlocked in the same breath. “I didn’t mean—”
“Too late, Shehryar,” I cut through. “And you can explain to your mum yourself why I’m no longer helping.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but when I pulled my wrist free, he let go.
This time, he didn’t stop me as I walked away. But the throbbing imprint of his rough fingers around my wrists, the ghost of his hardening dick against my arse, and the wet ache between my legs didn’t allow room for any feeling of victory.
If anything, I felt breathless and startled by Shehryar’s aroused reaction, like I’d only narrowly escaped the jaws of the predator I hadn’t seen lurking in the shadows.