Holding On

sᴇᴠᴇɴ

❇️Ｚａｉｎ❇️

Lying on my side, I stare at the sleeping Em who drifted off to sleep quickly after our wild romp. She's so beautiful sleeping, and I'm tempted to brush away the disheveled strands of hair sprawled on her face, but I trample the urge

I'm grateful that she's asleep because I'm not sure how our interactions are going to be from now on. I'm expecting awkwardness, but you never know when it comes to Em.

I almost can't believe; that she's finally mine. But my aching muscles are a confirmation that it really has happened. Two and a half years of restrained pent-up lust has finally been slaked on the one woman I've craved for just as long. 

I imagine her like this each night, in my bed, looking just as flushed. the thought of something beyond the weekend shakes me to the very core of my being. 

Fuck no, I can't be thinking of more than this weekend. After this weekend, I'm going to have to let her go.

What is it about this woman that makes me feel like such a fool? Why's she always destroying my fucking plans.

After what she did to me two years ago, I should hate her. Yet all it took for any kind of anger to disappear after we met again three weeks ago was an entranced look in his direction. She hadn't even tried.

And I've tried my best to kick her out of my life since then. Even a few minutes ago. My guts twist as I think of how furiously I took her. So little finesse and a whole lot of sexual aggression. Even while knowing she was a virgin.

For some stupid reason, I thought if I was brutal enough, that would cause her to grab her belongings the next morning and leave.

I'm such a fucking ass.

________________

🌼Ｅｍｍａ🌼

I

wake up to the sound of vague groans and huffs as I yawn, willing my eyes open. My mouth drops at the breathtaking sight that meets me; Zain is lifting heavy-looking dumbbells like a breeze, his muscles tightening and bunching with every flex of his arm. 

The rivulets of perspiration cascading down his body make it obvious just how long he has been working out. 

The man has a beautiful body that ought to be deemed illegal. He probably has several women lined up and ready to please him in bed. It's thrilling he's chosen me.

Without halting his movements, he tilts his head to look at me with what is the closest to a genuine smile I've received from him ever since I met him again three weeks ago. 

His motives for initially fighting against my offer are something I'm still determined to find out.

Sitting up on the bed, I wrap the mystery blanket around my nude body, not out of modesty, but because of the cold air. "When did you wake up?"

"About five hours ago." He shifts the dumbbell to his right hand and smiles at my shocked expression. "It's one in the afternoon.."

"What?!" I jump up, looking at the windows for any signs of pleading sun rays. 

I hear him chuckle, one that tickles my senses. Unlike the other sarcastic ones, this one is filled with warmth, and the fact that he no longer holds any grudge makes me happy.

"I'm only joking." His humour increases. "It's only eight in the morning."

I punch him weakly on the shoulder, the dampness from his sweat grazing my fist. "You jerk." And he winces in mock pain.