•••
"You are the cage I never wanted to escape, the captor I can’t stop yearning for."
•••
Aamirah’s fingers trembled as she clenched them into a fist, her pulse pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it. Osman’s words lingered in the air between them, a quiet command that held an unspoken challenge.
She didn’t dare look at him.
Her gaze remained locked on the smooth, sculpted lines of his chest, the warmth of his bare skin still seeping into her back where his arm remained draped over her. Every inch of her was aware of him—of the way his breathing had shifted, no longer the slow, steady rhythm of sleep but something more measured, controlled.
Her mind screamed at her to turn away, to create distance, to pretend she hadn’t just been caught admiring her husband in a way she never should have.
But he wasn’t a man who allowed retreat.
“Aamirah.”
Her name rolled off his tongue, deep and firm, sending a shiver down her spine.
Slowly—hesitantly—she forced herself to look up.
Osman’s dark eyes were already on her, watching, waiting. He wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing. There was no amusement in his gaze, only something unreadable, something that made the air between them feel heavier.
She wet her lips, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t—”
His brow arched slightly, cutting off her weak attempt at denial.
Aamirah swallowed, her heart hammering against her ribs. She knew she should pull away. She knew she should create distance before she lost herself in the moment, in the quiet intensity of his gaze.
And yet… she didn’t move.
Osman’s fingers tightened ever so slightly against her waist, a subtle reminder of his hold on her. “Go on,” he murmured, his voice low, coaxing. “Touch it.”
Aamirah’s breath hitched.
She didn’t understand why he was pushing her, why he was stripping away the careful distance they had maintained for so long. But what terrified her more was the part of her that wanted to obey.
Slowly, hesitantly, she raised her hand again.
Her fingertips brushed lightly against his skin—just the faintest touch over the sharp cut of his jaw. Heat radiated from him, his warmth sinking into her skin, branding her.
Osman didn’t move, but she felt the way his muscles tensed beneath her fingers, as if he were holding himself perfectly still, waiting.
Aamirah exhaled shakily, barely realizing how close they had become. She could see every detail of his face now—the slight shadow of stubble on his jaw, the curve of his lips, the piercing intensity of his gaze.
And for the first time since she had married him, she wasn’t afraid of the man lying beside her.
She was afraid of herself.
Afraid of how easily she had forgotten to breathe.
Afraid of how dangerously natural it felt to be this close to him.
Just as the air between them grew unbearably thick, a sudden cry shattered the silence.
Aamirah blinked, the spell breaking as she recognized the sound—Mohammed. The motherly side of her urged her to go her baby.
YOU ARE READING
𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐕𝐨𝐰𝐬
Romansa••• "Just because I haven't touched you as a husband should, that doesn't mean I won't," he said, his voice low and menacing. Her knees felt weak, and she didn't dare move from where she stood, his presence overwhelming her completely. She could b...
