In the Interlude

Chapter 31 - Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

Aïcha looked around the room, her weekend bag on the bed, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything. She smiled to herself as she heard Tom singing in the shower and listened for a while, trying to recognise the melody to no avail. She finally spotted her bra under the bed and bent down onto her knees to retrieve it.

It was tangled with the silk tie she had on her eyes the night before.

She sat on the plush carpeted floor, her legs folded under her, the bra and tie in her lap. She vividly remembered every little detail from last night. The memory of it all made her blush. The memory of his body against hers, of his hands on her.

He had been so gentle.

Incredibly, painstakingly gentle.

Without her vision, Aïcha had literally lost control. The hint of uncertainty had frightened her at first, but she quickly relaxed under his expert hands. Although not for long. His touch, his scent, his voice, everything was amplified, heightened. And so was her reaction, the anticipation of the unknown pushing her one step closer to the edge. All she could do was to lean into every one of his touches.

In a way, Aïcha felt it was the perfect metaphor for their relationship, not being able to anticipate his reactions, his moves, and still leaning into every one of them, embracing each one of them.

She was surprised when he had called her the first time. Even more surprised when they met in Marrakech, or when she went back there for the sole purpose of spending some time with him. And now she was in Paris in his hotel room, packing up her bag after a weekend of wild sex and intimate pillow conversations.

Tom kept surprising her, pushing them one baby step forward every single time until he dropped the bombshell of exclusivity.

Did this change anything?

Did it change everything?

There was no room for disappointment when there was nothing to expect from each other. Now, it was bound to be different.

Aïcha couldn't wrap her head around this, not quite understanding where it was all going. Not very far, she told herself. This was going nowhere. It had to. There was still no permanent place for any man in her life. Even if it was Tom fricking Hiddleston.

But her stubborn body had its own consciousness, responding in ways she had long forgotten.

And deep down, she was glad she won't be sharing him with anyone else.

Aïcha startled when Tom's hand came to set on her shoulder rubbing her arm. "Breakfast?"

Her eyes smiling, she looked up at him. Clean shaven, his hair still wet from the shower, already dressed for the day, he was making it hard for her to think of anything else but him.

Him kissing her.

Him on top of her.

Him surrounding her.

She waved her hand in front of her face, dismissing her thoughts. "Yes please, I'm hungry." His amused expression told her he knew exactly who she was hungry for.

As she stood up, he took her by the hand leading them to the balcony where the table was set.

"Oh, I have something for you." Tom hurried back to the room and Aïcha, her interest peaked, followed him inside.

Opening the nightstand drawer, he handed her a package wrapped in brown paper. Touched by this unexpected gesture, she hugged him tightly, his wet hair tickling her face. He held her for a moment before releasing her, his eyes filled with excitement, looking ten years younger.