Chapter 45
Ablah:
Hows it going? Are you making progress?
Shehryar:
Sort of
Shehryar:
She’s been letting me spend more time with her
Ablah:
YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Ablah:
Yessssss thats good!!!!
Ablah:
Keep going but don’t push her too much
Ablah:
Remember subtle and patient but persistent and honest ok!!
Ablah:
And mssg me when ur with her next!!
Shehryar:
Why?
Ablah:
Ull see
Mariyah
F riday morning, Shehryar drove me to my Pilates class, waited outside the whole time, and then from there took me to work. With my morning order of coffee, muffin, and chocolate twist.
I finished earlier at four, he picked me up, and I did my grocery shopping. We argued at the checkout and ended up dividing my weekly shop. I paid for my toiletries and household items, while he paid for my food with the vow to cook it all. And damn him, because when we returned to my apartment, he made the best spaghetti bolognese I’d ever had.
He gave me my three kisses, two on the forehead and one on the cheek, and then left for the night.
Saturday morning, he was back, and we went to the gym where he signed up there and then to join me too. He left me alone to workout but came over once to kiss my temple. And I had to admit, I was getting more and more sulky about the way he wasn’t kissing me on the lips.
In the evening, I met a few friends along with one of my cousins at a local restaurant for a night out, and Shehryar drove the four of us there. Unfortunately, they were also very intrigued and easily distracted by the royal bodyguard who secretly paid for our dinner while we were still eating, even though he ate at a separate table and stayed away.
Still, I had fun catching up with them, and even let Shehryar drop me off outside my apartment door. But it fucking grated that he used his last kiss on my cheek again.
On Sunday morning, however, I woke up to the smell of something sweet cooking and subtle noises coming from outside my bedroom. I glared at my alarm clock in tired confusion, my brain too groggy to process what my senses were picking up. It wasn’t even nine a.m. yet.
Unless I’d learned to mind control my kitchen tools in my sleep, I definitely wasn’t the one cooking. Or I was being robbed and said robber had gotten peckish and decided to feed themselves.
Huffing and puffing in annoyance, I threw the duvet off and forced myself upright. I patted down my messy hair then wiped the dried drool from the corner of my mouth as I stood. Feet nestled in slippers, I trudged out of my room and down the short corridor.
“Mum, is that you?” I croaked as I stepped into my open-plan living space.
“I prefer it when you call me Daddy.”
I came to an abrupt stop, and my mouth dropped. “How the fuck did you get in here?”
In my grey and white marble corner kitchen, Shehryar Timur, dressed in a dark green jumper with his sleeves pulled up, nudged a pancake in a pan with a flat spatula. There was a bowl of batter and a small ladle on his left, and on the other side of the stove was a stack of five pancakes, a bottle of hazelnut chocolate spread, and an unopened pack of strawberries. His coat hung on the pegs by the door, shoes underneath, and a grocery bag along with his car keys were atop the dining table.
“Through the door,” he said and threw a cheeky glance over his shoulder. He did a double take, his eyes perusing slowly down and up my oversized pink shirt and pyjama bottoms. His gaze lingered on my face as a secret smile tugged at his lips, then he turned back to the pan.
Oh, no. He wasn’t going to distract me with that look. Whatever it fucking meant.
“Shehryar Timur,” I growled, hands curling into fists, as he tipped the pancake onto the stack of others and set the pan away from the flame. “Did you break into my fucking apartment?”
He turned down the hob before heading towards me. “I knocked first. You didn’t answer. I wanted to make you breakfast—”
“So, you broke into my apartment?” I widened my eyes in accusation. “What the fuck is wrong with you? It’s not a bedroom lock, so how did you even pick it?”
“Easily.” His brows pinched in concern. “Too easily. And that’s not okay. It’s not safe.”
“It was never a problem before you,” I gritted out.
“But it is a problem. The fact that I got in so easily without you even realising proves it’s a problem.” He edged closer. “I’m going to order another lock and latch to add to the inside for double security.”
“Or just don’t break in like a fucking maniac,” I snapped and shoved at his chest.
He barely budged. In fact, he swayed closer. “I did message you to let you know in advance.”
I made a choked sound. “Are you seriously trying to justify this right now?”
His mouth unashamedly lifted in a lopsided smile. “I won’t apologise for it. It’s probably one of the only things I won’t apologise for.” He placed his large hands under my jaw, using his thumbs to nudge my chin up. “You’re the only one I’ve done it with, little menace. And I like that it’s our thing.”
“Our thing?” I echoed incredulously. “You mean, your intrusion on my privacy.”
His smirk widened. “Don’t lock me out, and I won’t break in.”
I gawked, and a chuckle bubbled from him that fluttered through my chest. My body instantly recognised this flirtatious, confident Shehryar, and it was…
Unwelcomed. Welcomed . Annoying. Sexy as fuck . So stupid. Bloody adorable . It reminded me of all the reasons why I liked him. All the soft edges he’d only shown to other people. Until now. Now they were mine too. Or more so.
But I didn’t want to remember that when I still wasn’t yet in the mood to move on from what he’d done. If I forgave him and let it go so easily, how was I going to be sure he’d never insult me like that again? How was I going to know his damaged relationship with his dad wasn’t going to continue to impact me negatively whenever there was an issue?
How did I stay mad without pushing him away or melting under the heat of his flirtation and seeming like a pushover but still drill my point home?
Basically, I was fucked.
My brows bunched closer together. “Stop grinning. I’m pissed.”
His smile softened under my scold. “I admit, considering the circumstances, I shouldn’t have. But I wanted to make you breakfast before you woke up. I wasn’t trying to undermine your privacy in any way, but if that’s how I’ve made you feel, I can leave.”
I can leave, I mimicked childishly in my head. Fucking idiot. No, you can’t.
“Those bloody pancakes better be the best you’ve ever made in your life,” I gritted out.
His teeth peeked out one corner of his mouth. “Of course, little menace.” He dropped his chin and pressed a gentle peck to my forehead. “Go wash up. I’ll have it ready by the time you come out.”
I scrunched my mouth to the side in muted annoyance, but Shehryar didn’t actually drop his hands from my face so I could go to the bathroom. “Got any plans to let go?”
“No,” he said so deeply and softly, yet confidently.
My heart hiccupped in instant understanding. “That’s not what I meant…”
He smiled but still held on to me quietly. His gaze kept growing heavier and darker and brighter by the second, weighing down on my belly. My mind screamed I was incredibly close to a danger zone of fluffy, bubbling clouds, so I cleared my throat and stepped out of his hands.
“There’s whipped cream in the fridge,” I managed to say. “Don’t forget to put it on me.”
His brows flew up. “What?”
That was the painful moment I realised what I’d accidently said.
Forget blush or flush or sting. My skin evaporated. Just poof, gone.
Mortification fired my blood so hot I found the vaporisation point of skin. And bones. And muscle. I was nothing but a pile of fried nerves, trembling on the floor, like unwoven wool in the wind.
Except the wind was a thousand degrees hot. And I was, unfortunately, still very much whole.
“ Mine ,” I corrected quickly and a little too loudly, angling my chin up with indifference I did not feel. “My pancakes. Don’t forget to put it on my pancakes .”
Slowly, humiliatingly slowly , his mouth curled wider and bigger and smugger.
I couldn’t take the embarrassment. I spun away and stormed towards my bathroom.
Over the painfully hot ring in my ears, I was entirely sure I heard him whisper, “I can put cream on you too, my menace.”
And I would have gladly let him do it too.
Either cream. It didn’t matter.
“What were you planning to do today?” Shehryar asked, sipping his coffee in the chair on my right around my matte-grey dining table.
“Sleep,” I said over a mouthful of chocolate-covered pancakes, strawberries, and whipped cream.
Hair partially dried from my shower and wearing a matching tracksuit set, I stabbed my fork into the last of the stupidly good breakfast Shehryar had made and shamelessly rubbed the fluffy goodness in the trail of sauce and cream on my plate. He’d finished his chocolate and banana stack several mouthfuls ago, which he’d brought in the bag of groceries because I didn’t house bananas.
His brows pinched together. “Why? Did you not sleep well?”
“No, I slept fine.” I pointed my clean fork at him. “But waking up before nine a.m. wasn’t part of the plan. I need at least four more hours of sleep to make up for lost hours during the week.”
It took nearly a minute of silent staring for his frown to ease up. He rested his forearms on the table and curled his hand around his mug. “Have you spoken to your parents? About leaving your job?”
I ran my tongue over my teeth as I set my fork down. “Yeah, I did. The day I got back.” I nudged my plate aside and dragged my mug of coffee closer. “They were really supportive. Told me to do whatever the heck makes me happy and encouraged me to email in my resignation without any worries. So, I did. The next day.”
The tension eased from his features, and a lightness filled his eyes. “See.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Easy to say when you’re not the one dealing with the problem.”
“I know.” He snuck his hand around my nape and tugged me closer. “That’s why I’m proud of you for taking yourself out of a situation you didn’t want to be in even though it felt hard at first. And whatever you choose to do next, I’ll support you however I can.”
Aye, aye, aye. What’s he doing? Why’s he doing that? Stop! Tell him to stop!
I stared dumbly at his gorgeous crook of a smile as my belly wagged about like the tail of an overexcited puppy, and there was nothing I could do to convince it to stop.
There was praise that satisfied my kink. And then there was the kind he’d just dished out. Not for any ulterior motive, just genuine, heartfelt encouragement. And insanely attractive still.
With a light caress of his thumb over my pounding pulse, Shehryar kissed my cheek. And then again, more heavily. The tickling scratch of his beard ghosted against my skin as he released me and sat back.
I was still for a second. Then my upper lip lifted in realisation.
He did not just waste his third kiss on my fucking cheek. This dickhead!
I’d waited so fucking patiently these last few days for him to kiss me on the mouth, and he bloody hadn’t. And I’d have to wait a whole twenty-four hours for another retry.
Nope. Nuh-uh. No way. I was done playing whatever stupid shy or cautious game he was playing.
I wanted a proper fucking kiss!
Without thinking, I shoved myself back and stood. His eyes followed me up as he angled his torso towards my approach. He had to have seen the intention in my eyes because he scooted his chair back, hand touching the side of my thigh, encouraging me closer.
I gripped his shoulders and straddled his lap, sinking close until our faces were barely an inch apart. His thick lashes dipped sleepily, but his gaze remained focused and steadfast as he wound his arms around my back, and I curled one arm tighter around his neck.
“What is this?” he asked, his timbre so low.
“This is me telling you that I’m pissed that you keep wasting kisses on my cheeks,” I answered, mapping the planes of his cheekbones and the specks of different shades of green in his pale irises.
“Wasting?” The corner of his mouth twitched as he massaged a firm hand up and down my upper back. “The way your eyes melt each time I kiss your cheek is not a waste, little menace.”
Warmth rose under my cheeks. I rubbed my teeth together, scowling but not really scowling. “It is a waste when you’re already limited to three and you use the last fucking two on my cheek, dickhead.”
“Maybe,” he offered. The weight of his gaze landed on my lips and stayed there for several seconds. “But you’ve asked me to stick to three, and I’d never force you or coerce you, but avoiding your lips is really the only way I can abide by your rule without making you think I’ve disregarded it entirely, only giving you further reason to mistrust me.”
I wasn’t pissed that he was listening to what I’d said. Not exactly.
It was hot as fuck that he couldn’t control himself around me. My heart pitter-pattered at his adorable admission of doing his best in the only way he knew how. After all the hate-filled insults between us, he was being a perfect gentleman, and the princess treatment was top tier.
What I was pissed about was wanting more and not getting it because of my own fucking rules. But then questioning wanting it because I was supposed to be angry with him.
As I mulled it over, stewing in my own indecision, a ringtone blasted out behind me, scaring the shit out of me. I flinched against Shehryar, and his arm tightened around me.
“Sorry,” he said, and pressed himself flush against me to grab his phone off the table.
I couldn’t quite catch the caller ID as he held his mobile by my shoulder, but from the stiffness of his expression, he felt uncomfortable with them ringing. Awkward even, in an unsure kind of way.
His eyes were on me as he answered and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Hi! Are you still with her?”
I was close enough to hear the quiet but cheerful voice of a girl on the other end of the line, and green, bitter-tasting ice crystalised in my chest.
Who the fuck was this girl ringing him? And why was she asking if he was still with me?
“Hmm,” Shehryar muttered, a slight dip dragging his brows down before they rose again.
“Put me on speaker.” He hesitated, but slowly, reluctantly obliged with her request.
I gritted my teeth as I glanced between him and the phone. “It’s on,” he said.
“Hi, Mariyah,” the girl said, an obvious beam in her voice, and for some reason, she sounded familiar. “It’s me, Ablah. Shehryar’s half-sister! How are you?”
Oh , it’s…wait, Ablah?
A puzzled frown fell over my brows. “Hi,” I said in a daze, making it sound more like a question. “I’m fine, thanks. How…how are you?”
“I’m good, great, actually! Glad to hear you’ve given Shehryar a chance to right his wrong.”
How did she…I directed my attention to Shehryar as he shifted under my lap. “He’s been talking to you about me? Since when?”
“Oh, since Dad and I flew over to meet him and they talked things through. We exchanged numbers after and have kept in contact since.”
I watched Shehryar closely, but he couldn’t quite keep a hold of my gaze, looking down to his phone every few seconds like he was nervous. “You met with your dad?” I asked him.
“Yeah, he did,” Ablah answered enthusiastically. “Didn’t he tell you? The day after Shehryar returned to Jahandar, he emailed Dad, and we met him after we came back. It went well. Dad apologised. Shehryar did too—not for defending himself and you but for what was said after. But they came to an understanding—I mean, they’re not going to be best friends any time soon, but did Shehryar tell you they spoke on the phone the other day? They spoke about you too. Actually, Dad was saying he wanted to meet you again, and Shehryar kind of agreed—well, it was more—”
“Ablah, stop,” Shehryar said, softly cutting her off.
“But—”
“No.” His tone didn’t grow any harsher, but she fell quiet. “I know what you’re doing, and I appreciate it, but Mariyah isn’t going to forgive me just because I spoke to our father. Nor should she.” He kept his gaze trained on his phone. “It’s not that my problem with him has nothing to do with her—she suffered because of it—but earning her forgiveness for what I said to her isn’t part of it, even if they’re still linked. And I’m not doing it for her either. I’m doing it for myself. So, I can’t and won’t use it as a tool to prove myself.”
I heard every word, loud and clear, but I absorbed the meaning of them from his open stare.
“But…but you argued with her because of Dad,” Ablah mumbled in disagreement. “So, Mariyah has a right to know you’re trying to sort things out with him.”
“She does,” he agreed. “But it’s still not an excuse for what I did.”
“Fine,” she grumbled, and immediately perked up. “But Mariyah, please forgive Shehryar. He said something he didn’t mean in the heat of the moment, but he’s not a bad person. He’s actually a really good person and brother, and I’ve only known him for two weeks, but I’d vouch for him, girl to girl. I always would.
“Yes, he was an idiot to you for five years, and a bigger idiot on my birthday, but he regrets it a lot. I’ve seen that he does. I’m not saying forgive him immediately, but—but just give him a chance. Because you didn’t see how he looked at you when you stood up for him, but I did, and it was so obvious that he likes you. A lot. Like a lot, a lot…a lot.”
I huffed out a laughing sound at the extra, laying-it-on-thick “a lot” she added. But Shehryar sat quiet and unblinking like he hadn’t expected the army of words Ablah unleashed in his defence.
“I’ll think about it,” I said quietly.
“Okay. Okay.” Her tone grew happier with each word. “Great. Great! I…that’s kind of all I rang for. But I hope I can see you again soon, Mariyah. I’ll stop eating your ears off now. Bye!”
Ablah cut the call, and silence rang through my apartment.
Shehryar’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he set his phone down on the table. Then he leaned back in his chair, watching me like he was trying to decipher the language of my eyes. But it wasn’t complicated. In fact, there was only one assured and very certain voice in my head.
“Were you going to tell me?” I asked.
“I was,” he answered. “But not to convince you to forgive me.”
I scoffed. “Rest assured, I ain’t forgiving you for working on your Daddy issues, Sheri.” His brows dipped, but his lips hitched the faintest bit. “But…I can say that I’m proud of you for talking it out with him when it probably wasn’t easy.”
His eyes melted and shoulders sunk like the strings keeping them up had been cut. And shit, it did something achy and sharp, gooey and warm to my chest.
Fuck it , my head and heart said at the same time.
I’d made the rules, so I could break them and change them too. I’d never been one for following rules exactly anyway.
“Kisses anywhere but on the lips don’t count as part of the three anymore,” I said, pushing one hand into the back of his thick, soft hair. “And if I initiate, it doesn’t count either, understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he breathed out.
“Don’t ma’am me,” I just about got out before clamping my mouth over his.
I kissed him eagerly and he gave himself over with the sexiest little moan. The sound did things to parts of me that throbbed for him, and well…things got very heated and grabby very quickly.
Teeth nipped at lips, tongues latched onto each other, and the taste of chocolate and coffee mixed with his warmth was my new favourite flavour. Somehow his hand found its way under my hoodie, gripping onto the clasp of my bra but never flicking it open. Keeping my lap still became an impossible task when all I wanted to do was rub my needy sex over his bulging erection.
Yet, I found just enough sanity to put it to a stop before we crossed into territory I wasn’t sure I wanted to return to just yet. Only I wanted to dive right back in because of the stunning flush on his face and feral look in his dilated eyes.
Fuck, no. No sex. Not yet. No way. Too soon.
But if we stayed in my apartment…
“Actually,” I said through panting breaths. “I think we should go out. I wanna buy books.”