Love Of Lust

Chapter Twelve

Becky's POV

Somehow, in my absence, I'd almost forgotten how beautiful our suite was.

I was struck again as we walked in and Riad hit a switch, lighting up the chandelier in the center of the room.

"This is really nice," I said, stupidly. He smiled.

"I'm glad you think so."

I stood in the center of the room for a moment, hugging my arms across my chest. I needed to say something. I needed to tell him what was running through my head, even if it didn't make any sense. I needed him. I couldn't even look at the massive bed, covered in overstuffed pillows, without imagining him pressing me down into it.

"Riad," I said.

He turned to look at me. I didn't know what I was planning on saying, exactly, but every word that came to mind just stuck in my throat. I swallowed and tried again, and to my absolute mortification I realized tears were leaking out of the corners of my eyes. I tried to look away, but he came over to me, swiftly, gently taking my face in his hands and lifting it up towards his. I tried to smile, but it wavered.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. "I mean...you know. Apart from the obvious." He, too, was trying to smile and not quite succeeding.

"Nothing," I said, in a voice thick from crying. Well, that was convincing.

"Really," he said. "Why don't I believe you?" I laughed a little, through my tears.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm really sorry."

"Please don't apologize." I shook my head.

"Not for that. I'm sorry for...letting things get too personal." I sniffed. "You know what I mean."

"Please don't apologize for that, either," he said. "I shouldn't have...I never should have..." He hesitated. "I'm sorry," he finished, finally.

"Maybe neither one of us really has anything to be sorry for," I said.

"Maybe," he said, with a spark in his eye that made my fingertips tingle.

"It was stupid, right?" I said, blinking the last of the tears away. "Saying we wouldn't let things get personal? Of course it's going to get personal. It's only natural. There's no harm in that, is there?" I cleared my throat. "I mean, as long as we keep our heads on straight." "Can we?" He looked...skeptical. And, at the very same time, he looked like he didn't really want to be. I shrugged a little. "Does it matter?" He looked at me, his lips parted just slightly. Like he wanted to say something, but he didn't know how.

"Are you sure?" he said, finally.

"Are you...absolutely sure?" I went up on tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. At that moment, it was like something snapped inside of him. More so than when I'd kissed him before - now I realized he'd been holding himself back even then.

I could feel it in his body pressed against mine, in his touch. I realized he was moving, propelling me backwards, until I felt myself pushed against the wall while his mouth devoured mine. He let go of my face and grabbed my wrists, hard - almost to the point of hurting - raising my arms up against the wall too, pinning my hands above my head.

I felt deliciously helpless. Something inside me, a heat that had been growing since the first time I'd laid eyes on him, grew and grew. My blood felt molten in my veins. If he didn't touch something other than my wrists soon, I was going to explode.

He pressed his knee between my thighs. I moaned, feeling myself swell against the hard muscle of his leg. He finally let my wrists go. I grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. Just when I thought he couldn't kiss me any deeper, he found a way. When he finally pulled back, we were both panting, and I thought back to the night in my empty apartment and I was suddenly very afraid. But he only smiled and took my hand, pulling me into the bedroom.