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But it was worth it. To have her.
For the stolen moment in the garden. All blistering heat and sunlight, and all the things that he had been denied.
Why should he be denied? Why should he experience self-denial ever again?
He shouldn’t. He should have all that he wanted and more.
Everything.
He should have her. And she wanted it too, whether she could admit that or not. She claimed she wanted normal, but she didn’t know what normal was.
Neither did he.
They had no metric for that. No instruction manual. They only had what they were. And what he was, was broken.
But she made him feel like shattered might not be the worst thing a man could be. He laid her back on the edge of the fountain. He reached the side and let his palm capture some of the cool water coming from the spout. And he let it drip over her breasts, watched as her nipples tightened into impossibly glorious pink beads.
“Raspberry,” he growled. He leaned forward and captured her nipple between his lips. Sucked deep and hard.
Yes. She was everything he had imagined from that first moment. Tart and sweet and her. All that he needed. Everything.
His body throbbed with the need to possess her, but he did not want this to go too quickly. He wanted to savor this. To savor her. He wanted...
She was panting, begging, her hips shifting restlessly, as if she was seeking something only he could give her.
It was true.
“You might want a normal life,” he said, his voice rough. “But where will you get this? Maybe we are lucky to not have normal. Maybe we are meant to have more. Maybe we are meant to be everything. The sun. The desert. The extreme. Why be a cul-de-sac when you can be the wilderness?”
“Are you going to keep talking,” she panted. “Because I’m desperate for you.”
“I knew that you were,” he said. His need was ferocious. It had him at the edge of sanity. But then, maybe he already was. And maybe there was no fixing that, but she wanted him. And if she wanted him, it wasn’t so bad.
If she wanted him, then maybe it would be all right.
Maybe he would trash the library and she would bring him cupcakes. Maybe he would create terror in the middle of the night, and she would soothe him with a movie.
And what would he give to her?
This.
This. And it would have to be enough.
He took another palm full of water and left droplets over her skin. Her breasts, her stomach. She gasped as the cold water rolled down between her legs.
She groaned, moving her hips restlessly, because he knew that she was hungry for more. More than a tease. She wanted his touch.
But this was what he had to offer her, and he had to prove that it was something beyond that which she could achieve on her own or with any other man.
This was what he had.
And he would give it to her with both hands. But he would also withhold. Because that would make it all the sweeter.
“Monster,” she panted.
“When did I ever give you the impression I was anything but a monster? I think you know this to be true about me.”
“Riyaz...”
