crave | 16+

XLIII

JOSIE

"HABIBTI." MY EYES PEEL open, and I see Elijah hovering over me, a drunk expression on his face. "Albi," he whispers. He kisses his way down the curve of my jaw. My heart flutters in despair. There's so much love in it for him, I can barely contain it. "Hayati." His lips find mine in the darkness of the night. I have no idea what time it is, all I know is I must've fallen asleep after I confessed the pregnancy a few hours ago.

A drip of water lands on my cheek. Elijah uses his own thumb to remove his tears from my face. I twist my own in agony; this man was going to be the very death of me. "Ya roohi," he continues, in something that sounds like Arabic. I smile, listening to his words of endearment. I lie still, as he kisses my worries away from my skin. Devina's meeting with Zakaria in the morning. The child growing in me. Elijah's line of work.

I wrap my arms around his biceps, and pull him down, our naked skin lying atop each other. This way, I feel him. I feel the pain, the pleasure, the despair, the happiness; I feel it all. Had someone told me five years ago that I'd be pregnant with my boss' child, I would've called the police on them. Now? I couldn't see a future without. For without Elijah, there was no future. I couldn't envision a life where he wasn't in it, and I didn't even want to try. I lived for him; he lived for me. We were each other's salvation.

In the softest way possible, Elijah pushes himself into me. My mouth drops open in pleasure. "Romri," he says against my ear. Butterflies erupt in my stomach, and a lazy smile comes onto my lips – I feel like I'm eighteen again. That's what he makes me feel; like a teenager in love.

A sound of pleasure erupts from his throat. I lock my hands behind his neck, and pull him down. Our lips meet in a soft, longing peck. It doesn't take long before we both reach climax. Elijah lies next to me, before pulling me on top of his chest, smoothing my hair out. My eyes grow heavy under the steady inhale of his body.

"Marry me," I hear him murmur, like the words don't define our future.

My eyes spring open; sleep suddenly seems universes away. "What?" I ask, not being able to hide the shock in my voice.

He moves his head, and plants a kiss on the crown of my head. "Let me have the honour of making you my wife," he says lazily. His eyes are half lidded, when I finally lift my head to see if he's being serious. The man looks delirious for crying out loud. Some men get postcoital dysphoria; my man starts proposing.

My heart beats wildly in my ribcage. Like it's trying to escape my body, and move into his. "Elijah..." I whisper. Where did my voice go? "I think you're dreaming," I declare in a small voice. A part of me wishes he's meaning it, wishes he genuinely wants to marry; then another part is cowering from the thought of being married. The mere responsibilities it brings, being someone's wife. Someone's mother.

I suddenly become hyper-aware of the child growing inside of me.

Elijah shakes his head, and time stops. The world stops spinning. My breath catches in my throat. "Through every scar, and every joy I've seen the image of you, an image so divine so pure, an image I see as home. You don't understand it, darling; with each sunrise, you are my dawn. You're the moon, the sun, the solar system. I orbit around you, because you're the air I consume. Walk with me; I ask you, love, to marry me. Make me a happy man, until death and his maiden finally catch me. Do me the honour of giving me happiness a man like me doesn't deserve."

I hadn't even realised I'd started crying. Not until a calloused hand reaches out to wipe the tear from my cheek. A half-laugh half-sob escapes my lips. "Well, how can I say no to that?"

Elijah grins bare at me; "I wasn't going to let you, baby." 

. . . 
they own my heart