Arranged(71)

We were being driven back to the hotel in one the family cars, sitting farther apart than we had since our unspoken truce had begun.

“I’m sorry she bothered you,” Banks said stiffly, not looking at me. “She shouldn’t have done that.”

“Me too,” I said quietly.

He wasn’t finished. “But please don’t provoke her like that. In fact don’t speak to her at all. If she calls, just hang up or hand the phone to me.”

I felt like he’d slapped me in the face but I responded like a pro. “As you wish.”





BANKS

It wasn’t getting better. I’d thought the reason I was becoming obsessed was that the sporadic, addictive bits of contact we had were leaving me too hungry for more. I’d thought if I took a few concentrated weeks to fuck her out of my system, that would nip it in the bud, but it’d had backfired in a big way. My craving for her was getting much, much worse. Not just for her body, either, which was the most worrisome thing of all.

I craved her company as well. Night and day. Waking and asleep, I wanted her next to me, breathing the same air, responding to my every action.

But back to her body. I was insatiable for it. I went to sleep spent and woke up hard again. I told myself that’s why I had to keep her close, but it didn’t explain why I had to hold her while we slept, like I was afraid she’d slip away.

Afraid. That was a funny word, but fear filled me with every bit of emotion she woke up inside me. What did I fear, though? Not her, not anymore. Not her intentions or motivations. The fear came from inside, from the fact that the more good I realized she was, the more I knew I didn’t deserve her. I’d bought her, but I hadn’t earned her.

I was as filthy as she was innocent. The things I’d done in just the first month after our marriage were beyond the pale.

It made the hair rise on the back of my neck just to think about. Had I changed so much since then that I was disgusted by my own behavior now?

In short, yes. Now that I knew her, I regretted everything I’d done to resist her.

And what if she found out? God, the thought was horrifying, because it was altogether feasible. Fatima was just the type of ex to make sure she’d find out at least some of it.

She shifted onto her back in her sleep, but she didn’t stir. It was enough. She was naked, nothing but a sheet covering her. I took it off. The shades were open, the city light filtering in enough that I could make out delicious little details of her sleeping form. She shivered at being uncovered, her pert breasts pebbling up. I stroked her, throat to naval, and she curved into my hand. Even then she didn’t stir. I rubbed between her legs, watching her sleeping face. Her mouth went slack, eyes still closed. She was wet. I pushed a finger inside her, feeling her. Her body responded, but even that didn’t wake her.

I must’ve really worn her out. The thought didn’t bother me. On the contrary, it didn’t even slow me down.

I mounted her, shoving in with one smooth, tight glide. That woke her up. She moaned as her beautiful eyes popped open. I kissed her, pumping in and out.

What had I done? How had I allowed myself to get sucked in this deep?





CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE





NOURA


It happened on a Thursday. It was a sunny, pleasant day in the city. The sort of day that made you want to walk where you were going instead of sitting in traffic.

I remembered strange little details like that, as though the day were imprinting itself strongly on me before my brain even knew why it should.

I woke up in Banks’s arms. He’d stayed the night for no other reason than he’d wanted to. He’d been at my apartment, takeout in hand, when I’d gotten home from a shoot the night before. He’d kissed me like he’d never get enough. We’d had a quiet, intimate meal together that still made me feel warm in my chest just to think about.

For my part, I’d outright admitted to myself that I was falling hard. The man was irresistible when he decided he wanted something, and he wanted me.

I was a little sleep deprived after that night. He’d fucked me several times, waking me up at odd points of the night, each one with a tireless desperation that to this day make my whole body clench in memory.

We couldn’t resist each other, that much was clear.

And I was starting to feel hopeful about us, about where we were headed, and what we could become.

A cheerful Banks had even taken me to church the previous Sunday. He’d led me in on his arm, seating me in the middle of his family like he did it every week. His brothers had grinned at him, elbowing each other. His parents had gaped. I couldn’t keep the blush off my cheeks or the smile off my face for the entire service.

We were starting to build the foundation for something powerful and profound. A real marriage? Perhaps. For the first time I let myself consider it, at least.

The only thing that could hold us back at this was ourselves.

Or so I thought.

Banks had kissed me passionately goodbye on the sidewalk outside my building. He’d gotten into one of his cars, and I’d walked from the apartment to my gym that morning. Chester and I, of course, and even Jovie tagged along. She had a callback at nine, so she’d have to cut it short but she could fit in an hour workout with me beforehand.

I remember that as we were walking, she’d grabbed my hand and beamed at me. “Banks and Noura sittin’ in a tree,” she’d chanted softly. She was happier than anyone about how things were progressing in my strange marriage. It made her outright giddy. She was painfully young and she’d been through a lot, but she was still an optimistic soul. She was sure that my husband had, against all odds, fallen in love me, and that love would conquer all.