Dare You To Love Me

«47» in your arms

The warmth from their shower clung to Yaseerah’s skin as she discarded the towel she’d just wiped her body with in the laundry basket and wrapped herself in a plush robe.

Her damp hair dripped water droplets from her braids, cascading down her body in tiny rivulets, soaking into her robe.

Releasing a soft breath, she relieved the last hours, feeling the gentle thrum of her heart as she processed all that had happened.

It had been more than she ever imagined, a perfect blend of gentleness and fervor that still left her feeling slightly intoxicated.

The way his hands had explored her body–as if he was mapping every inch of her skin and committing them to memory–, his whispered words–sweet and filled with love–, and the way he made her feel cherished in ways she never thought possible, it all came back to her, making butterflies take flight in her gut.

Behind her, Fou’ad emerged from the steamy bathroom, a towel slung low around his hips.

His damp hair glistened in the light, and water droplets traced the contours of his broad shoulders, highlighting his muscular frame.

Yaseerah turned slightly when she felt his presence, their gazes clashing—hers soft and enticing, his just as soft but with an almost shy smile, as they took each other in.

It could have been awkward, the way they silently stood apart, watching each other, but this was Fou’ad.

With him, nothing was awkward. Every moment felt natural, every silence comfortable.

This further cemented the fact that she was well and truly gone when it came to him.

There had always been a Fou’ad-shaped blank space in her life. A part of her had known that from the moment she’d seen him, even though she’d tried to deny it.

Yaseerah realized that she no longer minded it; in fact, she embraced it. She was at peace with the depth of her feelings for him.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his gentle tone as if he was afraid of breaking the delicate spell that had settled over them.

“Good.” She smiled back, her heart swelling with affection. “Better than good even.” She could still feel the warmth of his embrace, the way his lips had moved against hers, igniting a fire within her that she hadn’t known existed.

“Me too,” he said, stepping closer.

Gently, he lifted her wet braids from her back, tucking them over her shoulder with a tender touch that made her heart swell with deep, abiding love.

“Come here,” Fou’ad said softly, opening his arms wide in invitation.

Yaseerah went willingly, resting her head against his chest. She closed her eyes, savoring the rightness of it, knowing not for the first time that she had found her true place in the world—right there, in his arms.

“This is nice,” she whispered, as she listened to the steady beat of his heart, the rhythm oddly comforting, grounding her in the reality of the moment.

“It is.” Fou’ad nodded, his voice a soft rumble against her ear.

“It feels like a dream,” she whispered, pulling back slightly to look up at him.
She reached up to brush her knuckle against his jaw, her fingers lingering on his skin, as if to remind herself that it wasn’t a dream.

“This is as real as it gets, albi” Fou’ad assured her, the curve of his lips making her heart flutter wildly in her chest. “And it’s just the beginning.”