Murtasim Khan sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the ceiling, willing himself to calm down. His jaw was clenched, his fists resting on his knees as he tried to steady his breathing. It had been weeks—six to be exact—since the doctor had delivered the verdict: no sex for at least two months after the delivery.
It was torture.
Not because he didn’t understand the necessity of it, but because every fiber of his being was drawn to Meerab now more than ever. Pregnancy had changed her body in ways that only heightened his desire for her. Her hips were wider, her breasts fuller, her curves more pronounced, and it drove him wild. Every time she walked into the room, he felt like a teenager all over again—consumed by a fierce need that was hard to control.
And yet, he had to.
Two months of abstinence. That’s what the doctor had said. “No physical intimacy until her body fully recovers.” He knew it was necessary. Meerab had gone through so much during pregnancy and childbirth. He had been by her side, holding her hand, witnessing the strength she displayed during those long, grueling hours. The last thing he wanted was to do anything that might hurt her or slow her recovery. But now, as her body healed and returned to its natural rhythms, he found himself consumed by thoughts of her.
Meerab was in the bathroom, bathing their newborn, her soft voice humming a lullaby that drifted through the slightly ajar door. Murtasim closed his eyes, the sound of her voice only adding to his torment. He loved her so much, and the intensity of his feelings often overwhelmed him. He wasn’t just physically drawn to her; his desire was tied to the deep emotional connection they shared. But now, with every glance at her, every touch, he felt a hunger that was growing harder to suppress.
The door creaked open, and Meerab walked out, holding their baby daughter in her arms, wrapped in a soft pink towel. Her hair was slightly damp, and a few strands clung to her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the bath, and there was a glow about her that had nothing to do with motherhood and everything to do with the effortless beauty she carried.
Murtasim’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched her gently lay their daughter down in the crib, tucking her in with careful hands. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his gaze neutral, but it was impossible. The sight of her in her soft, loose clothes that clung to her post-pregnancy curves was enough to send his pulse racing.
Meerab turned around, catching his gaze, and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Murtasim blinked, realizing he had been staring. He quickly schooled his features, giving her a lopsided smile. “Like what?”
“Like you’re about to devour me,” she said, folding her arms, a teasing glint in her eyes.
Murtasim’s lips quirked, but the raw need behind his gaze couldn’t be hidden. “Maybe I am,” he said, his voice low, filled with a promise that made her cheeks heat up.
Meerab laughed softly, shaking her head as she walked over to the bed and sat beside him. “You know the doctor said—”
“Two months,” Murtasim finished for her, his voice tight. “I know.”
She tilted her head, observing him. “It’s been hard for you, hasn’t it?”
Murtasim ran a hand through his hair, leaning back against the headboard, his muscles tense. He let out a breathy chuckle, his eyes glancing up at the ceiling as he spoke. “Meerab, you have no idea how hard it’s been. Every time I see you, I—” He broke off, his eyes flickering over her body, his gaze lingering on her curves. “You’re even more beautiful now. Every part of you has changed in a way that makes it impossible for me to stop thinking about you. And not just thinking…” His voice trailed off, the desire in his tone unmistakable.
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