Upstairs, in the cream-and-brown room, having the door locked behind us, Tarek kisses me. It becomes long and passionate. Something head-numbing and out of the pages of a Harlequin or Jove romance. I want to push him away and catch my breath, but the kiss reflects his feelings. Pure bliss. This is something he’s been holding back for a very long time. Tender emotions that he kept hidden and private from me, now exploding, seeping at his surface, present and accounted for. So I take the kiss for what’s it worth, and grasp his hips, align my chest to his, and close my eyes.
When we come up for air, we take in the room like Sherlock Holmes and Watson. It’s a shitty brown hue everywhere. Ugly as all sin. But the curved furniture is nice. Erik has given us a king-size bed, which is massive, co
