“It doesn’t matter,” she said, reaching for him with her hands on his shoulders. He resisted at first but rolled against her at her insistent urging. “It doesn’t matter,” she repeated intently, running her lips against his whiskered jaw while she rubbed some of the tension out of his back muscles. Their mouths brushed together.
“It was amazing. Don’t let him ruin it. What is Eric, compared to this?” she whispered. He lifted his head slowly. “Don’t let anything ruin it, let alone him. Our world, remember?”
She saw the hard glitter in his eyes. He was still angry at Eric’s interruption, she could tell. Agitated. Worried? But then she saw his sharp focus return as his gaze moved over her face.
He leaned down and kissed her mouth tenderly. She felt the frayed filaments of their connection reweaving.
“Our world,” he swore next to her lips.
Chapter Fourteen
They succeeded in blocking out the rest of the world, at least for the next three and a half hours. It wasn’t hard, when Asher’s skin was pressed tight next to hers, when she was looking into his eyes and listening to his deep voice . . . when he was making love to her again and she was spiraling in bliss.
He walked her out to Zara’s car at four fifteen a.m. She shivered in the damp night air. He wrapped his arms around her.
“Do you feel okay?” he murmured.
“I’d give anything to stay,” she whispered, clutching him close, as if she thought his hard body could staunch the ache mounting inside her at the idea of separating from him after the most special night of her life.
“I’d give anything to have you stay,” he said, pressing his mouth to her temple. “But I didn’t mean that. I meant are you okay, physically. You said you threw up earlier. And then . . .” He nodded at the upstairs of the house, and she understood. He meant was she in any discomfort. From her first time.
And the second.
She pressed her warm cheek to his chest.
“I’m fine,” she said honestly. True, there was a little discomfort. But she strangely welcomed the sensation. It was a reminder of what it had been like, to be fused so tight with him, the boundaries between them evaporated.
He nuzzled her cheek. “What if I got a job at a Detroit paper?”
She started and leaned back, examining his face to see if he was serious.
“You would do that?” she asked, incredulous.
“We could see each other that way.”
“But you told me you did an internship in L.A., and know the editor. He thinks if you work hard, he can get you a foreign affairs post within a year or two. If you came to Detroit, you’d be giving up your dream.”
“Maybe not giving it up. Just postponing it a little. What, Laila?” he asked, his brow creasing. He’d noticed her anxiety.
“I can’t ask you to do that, Asher. Postpone your dream? And for what? It would be just as hard for me to get away in Detroit as it is here,” she said miserably.
“You’re getting older, Laila. You’re not going to be at your mother’s beck and call forever.”
“I’m not at her beck and call. You don’t understand. I know she can be a pain sometimes, but I love her—”
“Okay,” he said, cutting her off by kissing her mouth. “Maybe that’s not the solution. We said we’d keep trying to hang on. That’s all I was doing. Brainstorming.”
“I know. I know you were. Asher, it means so much to me. Thank you. You’re right. I’ll try to come up with some ideas too,” she said, smiling up at him brightly. Inside, she was cringing a little. It dismayed her because she couldn’t imagine a scenario where they could be together.
He reached to open the car door. “You better get going,” he said. “Everyone’s going to panic if they find out you’re gone.”
When she was seated, she glanced up and saw him through the opened door. He was peering fixedly at the driveway.
“Asher? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said distractedly, dragging his gaze back to her. She looked at where he’d been staring.
“What is it?” she repeated, nothing about the darkened driveway standing out to her as significant.