Her Awakening

Chapter 34: Awakening to Begging

(Mature)

By day two, I had had enough of Jalal's little game. His teasing had left me frustrated and pent-up, and the way he was withholding sex just because he didn't get his way—it was childish. He was acting like a spoiled brat, punishing me because I hadn't jumped at the chance to meet his family. I mean, sure, it was a big deal to him, but to hold out on me like this? It was driving me insane.

So, I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. If he thought he could outplay me, he had another thing coming.

I rummaged through my suitcase and pulled out the smallest, tightest pair of booty shorts I could find. They were highly indecent, barely covering anything, but that was the point. I paired them with the shortest cropped top I owned, one that hugged my chest and left very little to the imagination. If Jalal wanted to resist me, I was going to make it damn near impossible.

With a smirk on my lips, I strolled into the living room where he was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. His eyes flicked up to me casually, but when he saw what I was wearing, they darkened with hunger. I could practically feel the tension as his gaze roamed over my body, lingering on my bare legs and the strip of skin exposed between my shorts and the crop top.

But he didn't move. He didn't say anything.

Instead, he just gave me a lazy smile, as if he had all the control in the world, and then casually looked back down at his phone. My stomach twisted with frustration. He was so turned on—I could see it, through the print in his grey joggers—but he was determined not to give in.

Fine, I thought, two can play this game. I spent the rest of the morning lounging around the house, bending over a little more than necessary, reaching for things that made the fabric of my shorts ride up, brushing past him at every opportunity. Every time I got close, his eyes would darken, his breath would hitch, but he still wouldn't bite.

It was infuriating.

By noon, I was practically fuming. How the hell was he holding out this long? I needed to do something—anything—to get my mind off of him, so I settled on working on my writing. I grabbed my laptop, curled up on the couch, and tried to focus on the words in front of me, but even then, I couldn't concentrate. Every few minutes, I'd catch myself glancing at Jalal, who was now in his home gym, lifting weights shirtless, his muscles gleaming with sweat.

God, this man was driving me insane.

He worked out for over an hour, completely ignoring the way I was watching him. By the time he was done, I could feel my patience wearing thin. He headed toward the bathroom, clearly planning to take a shower, and I knew this was my chance.

If I couldn't seduce him by parading around half-naked, maybe catching him in the shower—where he couldn't escape—would do the trick.

I waited until I heard the water running, then I slowly undressed, my heart pounding in my chest. I stepped into the bathroom, the steam already thick in the air, and there he was—standing under the spray of the water, his head tilted back as the water cascaded down his body. His back was to me, but he must've sensed my presence, because when he turned, his eyes locked on mine.

I stood there, completely nude, and the way his gaze slid over me—so full of desire, so full of want—made my knees weak. His eyes trailed over my breasts, down to the curve of my hips, and lower, his expression darkening with unmistakable lust.

But still, he didn't say a word.

Without breaking eye contact, I pushed the glass door of the shower open and stepped inside. The warm water hit my skin, but the heat between us was already scorching. I moved closer to him, letting my body brush against his as I stood under the spray, my wet hair clinging to my back.