She arched her back and he pulled her against him, their bodies completely enmeshed, lips claiming each other as if their lives depended on this kiss, this night. But ever was the desert present, the open window of his room breathing night air around them, reminding Samir forcibly of where his true destiny lay. Not in here, with this woman in his arms, but out there, with his people and their expectations.
Cora was an illusion, an indulgence. And after this night, he would indulge no more. He couldn’t.
Two weeks ago, he would have offered her the world if it had meant she would continue seeing him, but he was no longer free to offer her anything. Nothing beyond this night—a last goodbye.
He moved faster, harder, as if he could banish that reality with the pleasure sapping his body, but it was always there, the beating of a drum, the inevitability of their parting. Every second that went by brought closer the time in which she would go, leaving Al Medina, and Samir, in the past, where this had to stay.
But they had this night and Samir wasn’t going to lose it, he wasn’t going to waste it. He would use every moment to savour her, to enjoy her, before letting her go.
The shower was heaven,the turquoise ceramic head the size of the entire shower, so it created a waterfall effect. Cora stood beneath it, letting it douse her body, a body that bore all the marks of their night, a body that felt tired and alive and half on fire thanks to the way they’d made love all night, with a desperate, fevered passion at first, and then slower, a goodbye.
Tears mixed with the shower water and she didn’t bother to dash them away. No one was observing her here. Samir had said she had ten minutes and she was using them, cleansing him from her body, as if it could prepare her for what lay ahead.
She didn’t want to leave.
Not Samir, and not this place. There was something about Al Medina that almost seemed to call to her too, in a way she’d never known before. It was ancient and beautiful and for no reason she could think of, seemed to be a part of her. But it wasn’t. Samir wasn’t.
She had to leave, and get on with her life and leave him to get on with his.
She intentionally didn’t consider how that might look for Samir. He was Sheikh now, and she knew what pressures must be upon him, including to marry and have a family of his own, to secure the lineage.
Sadness flooded her, threatening fresh tears, so she angrily snapped off the water and stepped out, roughly towel drying her face, refusing to let tears form much less fall.
She didn’t have any cosmetics, but she found some moisturiser and rubbed it all over her face, then used a comb to wrangle her hair into submission. She only had the clothes she’d worn yesterday, so she pulled them back on, but with each button she fastened, she remembered Samir unfastening it and her pulse was thready and painful.
Never again.
It became her mantra. She let it rain over her, just as the shower had, hoping that the more she thought it, the more she’d accept it, but the truth was, on some level, she was simply numb now. Numb to the reality of what lay ahead of her, to the necessity of leaving and not ever seeing him again. It wouldn’t last forever but for now she thought that numbness might be a godsend.
He was dressed in pants and a shirt when she emerged, his thobe laid out across a chair. But like this, he was so familiar to her. She walked to him on autopilot, pressing her head to his chest and inhaling. His hand came around her back, touching there lightly, slowly, but it was different now. This wasn’t a touch of possession or even of need, but of farewell.
It rankled, it ached, everything hurt.
She lifted her face and saw only determination in his features.
“I’m glad you came to Al Medina. I wanted you to see it.”
“So am I.” Her throat hurt with unshed tears, but she wouldn’t let him see them. “It’s beautiful.”
“Yes.”
Silence crackled in the air of the room.
She had to walk away. She had to let this go.
“Samir,” she murmured, searching for words. This was over. It had to be. She’d ended it first, she’d known it was getting too complicated. But suddenly, the idea of never seeing him again was impossible to contemplate. How could they live in a world and not be a part of one another’s lives? “We can be friends, can’t we?”
His eyes flashed to hers, the denial obvious in their depths.
“You’re friends with my brothers, my cousins. You have other friends.”
“I have not slept with any of them.”
She flinched, the boiling down of what they’d shared to ‘sex’ bothering her as much now as it had the first time he’d implied that. “So having had sex means I have no value to you now, beyond that?”
Something sparked inside of her. Relief. She couldn’t cry in front of him, but it felt good to release some of her emotions, even in the guise of anger.
“You have much value to me,” he corrected quietly, his voice hoarse. “But no place in my life.”