She was lying on her left side, her legs tangled with Azeez’s, her arm tight around his hips. She gasped as she realized how hard she was holding him, pressing her left hand into his damaged hip. She was about to jerk it back when he grasped her wrist and held it there. “That pressure feels good, habeebi.”
She stilled, a thousand different voices clamoring to be heard inside her head. And yet, not a single one of them was even a token protest. She only felt exhilaration, only the utmost lethargy. Not shame, or disbelief or any such thing.
Azeez Al Sharif, even when he considered himself a cripple, was a perfect specimen of masculinity that would induce knee-jerking reaction in any woman. And the intimacy of waking up next to him like this was like a drug that filled her with inexplicable longing.
What she felt, coiled against him, was healthy, thrilling, one of the few things that validated her femininity. After the last day of pain that was a reminder of everything she was not, the warm languor in her muscles, the slow burn of desire, she welcomed it wholeheartedly.
He was hard against her and warm. He smelled the way he always did—of sandalwood and exquisite heat and dark, sinful promises. She sucked in a deep breath, savoring the scent of him. Against the onslaught of those sensations, the dull ache in her lower belly was almost negligible.
Feeling his gaze on her, she glanced up. His features looked strained, dark shadows under his eyes. Had he slept with his torso leaning against the headboard? She made to move, but his arm around her didn’t budge. “I’m sorry. You must have been very uncomfortable.”
He shrugged, his gaze devouring her with a quiet intensity that should have alarmed her. Instead, it swathed her with an electrifying thrill. “I don’t remember the last time I slept through the night anyway. It was only a few hours. And every time, I tried to make myself more comfortable, you held on so tight that I was afraid to hurt you, or even worse, wake you up when it looked like you finally had some relief.”
She felt color swamp her cheeks. “Thank you for staying with me. I have forgotten how awful it gets.”
“And when you take these medications that you are waiting for?”
“It’s quite different because they are pure hormones, they make my body…” She blinked, trying to backtrack slowly. “The pain is quite manageable coupled with regular exercise and deep breathing.”
“All those trips you made in Dahaara and then overseas?”
She winced, remembering those trips with her father’s sister. The despair that she would never find relief, it was the thing she remembered most. “I had already seen every doctor I could in Dahaar. None of them ever gave me a conclusive diagnosis. Just kept telling me it was normal, that I had to just cope with it.
“That pain…it would cripple me every month.
“My father—” she cleared her throat “—I used to get so angry with him. My mother was already gone when the pains started and he…” She felt the force of Azeez’s anger and released hers. “He…couldn’t talk about it with me, wouldn’t even come near me. He was too traditional for that. But he didn’t give up on me, either. He sent me to New York with a family friend. Someone recommended a…specialist there. She ran a lot of tests. And within a week, she recommended these drugs and other measures.”
“This is why you became an ob-gyn?”
She nodded, glad to be able to share at least half the truth. “No one should have to go through this kind of pain for so many years. I want to bring more awareness to the condition. It’s already a hard subject for a young girl to talk about. Then when someone does have the courage to speak up, she is told again and again to just live with it, that it is natural. Nothing about this pain is bearable.”
His fingers tightened over her arms and she clasped them with hers. When he spoke, his voice was low, gravelly and full of pride. Her heart sang at it. “You will succeed, Nikhat. I have no doubt. Draw up a proposal. Vet out some experts in the field that would like to work in Dahaar. Think of every resource that you might need and put it on that proposal. You have my complete backing and my personal fortune at your disposal.”
Tears prickled at the back of her eyes, and this time, she didn’t stem them. They were not borne of pain or grief. Those first couple of years after she had left, being amongst strangers, thinking he was forever gone, she had lost her faith, doubted her ability to do what she had wanted.
The pride shining in his eyes felt like her true prize. He thought she was strong, but hadn’t she always measured her words, her actions, through his eyes, his honor?