The Wedding Night...

Surprise!...

"Maybe I could stay here for the rest of the pregnancy," Dilan commented as Baran got out of the shower. Her relaxed face reminded him that it was starting to become difficult for her. "That could be arranged." She laughed. Her body movement made little waves in the water. "Right, then by the end of the day you would have a raisin and not a wife, Baran." He covered the lowered part of his body before kneeling beside the tub. "I want you to be comfortable, Dilan." She looked at him warmly. "I know, Baran. And I am." Baran stood to get a towel for Dilan, placing it over his shoulder, he offered his hands to her. "Come. Let me help you out." With each passing day, Baran tried to do more for his wife, but still he felt he wasn't doing enough. He enveloped her body with the towel and started to dry her. He had been doing that for a few days, especially with the lower part. She moved around to make things easier for him. Once he was done, he handed her the shower bathrobe, and as he put his clothes on, he watched her comb her hair in the mirror. Each stroke of the comb was hypnotizing for him. Baran was unable to look elsewhere. He never knew women's hair could be so enticing. But again, no one had awakened that interest in him until Dilan. Incapable of resisting any longer, he went to her. "Let me." He said as his hand covered hers. She was hesitant at first, but then her expression changed. Like she realized something. Dilan let go of the comb, and Baran began brushing her hair. He felt her eyes on him. He returned the stare and was rewarded by the adoration in her eyes. "I love your hair, Dilan. I love how it feels when I comb through it with my fingers. The softness of it. Like silk.

"The first time I remember making a conscious effort to touch your hair was when we were fighting over Derya. Remember? You thought I believed her over you..." The upset feelings she had then reflected again on her face. "My favorite part of that particular fight was when you confessed you didn't want to look like a liar in my eyes..." Her eyes opened in surprise. Maybe she thought he had not caught up on that. "You have no idea how thrilled I was to hear it. It encouraged me to remove the strands of hair around your face." He came closer to her to inhale the scent. Burying his face in her wet hair, he blurted out. "Intoxicating." When he pulled back, he noticed Dilan had her eyes closed. When she opened them again, she turned to him, "I wanted to touch your hair as well..." She raised her hand and started to comb it with her fingers. "It always looks so sleek and yet soft. I wanted to know how it felt on my fingers." He wanted to taunt her. "It took you long enough, Ms. Dilan. I remember you brushed my hair for the first time at Aunt Berivan's house." The night before we were supposed to get a divorce. She admitted with her head. "True. I didn't dare before. Every time I would reach to touch you, you would trace my hand with your eyes. I interpreted that as you not wanting to be touched." He let the comb over the bathroom top, and embraced her with his arms. He leaned forward before he spoke. "As usual during those times, you interpreted everything the wrong way. You are right in that I didn't like to be touched. But I wanted to be touched by you, Dilan. So desperately, you have no idea..." He caressed her face with his hand, and her face leaned on it. "And I was even more desperate to touch you, hug you, to hold your hand, but your hair... The pull it has on me..." He traced every inch of her beautiful face, letting his eyes finish the sentence.

"I was the one who held your hand first, Mr. Baran." Dilan teased him back. He closed his eyes, and with his head down, moved it in reproach. "No, you did not. I grabbed your hand first." That was not true, and she was determined to have him accept it. "Yes, I did. At the back of the house. After your fight with Firat and Derya. I took your hand..." He motioned for them to go inside the room. Baran offered his hand to Dilan, and on instinct, she took it. 'Dilan!' She scolded herself. She tried to pull it out of his hold, but he tightened his grip as they walked towards the couch. "My wife seems to have forgotten. She should feel ashamed." No, she was right. "You are the one who is not remembering clearly." They sat and he kissed her, surprising her. "Baran!" He cocked his head and in a menacing yet playful tone he said, "If you keep it up, I will kiss you until you remember, Dilan." Now she was second-guessing herself. He looked too confident to be lying. "The times before that don't count. They were all by chance or required by the circumstances, it was not intended." Another kiss, only this time it was deeper, hotter. The ability to breathe was scarce. "Think again, Dilan. You will get there." He was having too much fun, and she could not allow that. However, her punishment was hardly that. Maybe she will give it another try. Suddenly, she remembered. "Oh! Are you talking about the picnic date? That does not count. I needed help sitting down..." Before she could say anything else, his lips were on her again. Dilan no longer cared about being right. All she cared about was her husband and the way his tongue invaded her. He pulled back once. "Two..." Kiss. "Words." Another mind-blowing kiss. "Aunt Berivan." That killed the mood. "What?" He smiled triumphantly. Then she remembered. Her hand covered her mouth. "How could you forget?" He was right on his reproach.