"You walked into the lion's den, sweetheart," he whispered, stepping closer. "And lions don't let go so easily."
He looked down at her leg, at her trembling hands, and the fear in her eyes.
"A beautiful young girl like you," he chuckled, "shouldn't...
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Sultan was leaning against the bedpost, the hood of his jacket pulled back, his bare chest rising and falling with every slow breath. The zipper of the hoodie was undone, the fabric hanging off his sculpted frame like a careless sin. His jeans clung to his hips, low and arrogant, like he belonged here-like he owned everything in this room.
And perhaps he did.
His eyes were on her.
Mishti.
Tucked under the soft duvet like a fragile secret.
Her bare back rising with every breath, hair spilling across the pillow like ink on white sheets, and her womb-round, full, fragile-nestled protectively beneath the quilt.
His child rested there.
The corner of his lips lifted, eyes darkening with a twisted sort of pride. A possessive warmth settled in his chest as he watched her shift in her sleep, her arm sliding over the duvet as if to hide herself further from his gaze. But there was no hiding from him.
He leaned down slowly, wrapping his arms around her from behind, pulling her into his chest. His hand slid over the curve of her belly.
She whimpered. A soft, disoriented sound. "Sultanji... stop..."
Her voice was sleepy, sulky, and sweet like honeyed wine.
He nuzzled into her neck, pressing a kiss just below her ear. "You look too good like this, amore. Naked and mine."
She turned in his arms, eyes still sleepy but annoyed, lips puffed and slightly pouting. Her brows knitted in that familiar fury of hers.
"Stop being so dramatic," she grumbled, shoving at his chest. "Why are you always... always like this?"
He grinned, shameless and smug. "You're the one sleeping in my arms, carrying my child, in my bed. Who else should I be like?"
She pouted harder, smacking his chest lightly. "I hate you."
"Liar," he whispered, trailing kisses down her jaw. "You only hate how much you love me."
She stilled.
He could feel the heat rise from her cheeks.
But she turned her face away quickly. "You said you deleted the videos. The ones... from that night."
He froze. Then laughed. A soft, low sound.
"I did."
She looked at him, suspicious.
He shrugged. "After I copied them in a hidden drive. What if I miss you one day?"
Her eyes went wide in shock. "Sultan! That's not funny-"
"Relax," he smirked. "I'm joking."
"You weren't," she accused, sulking, turning away. "You will blackmail me with them."
