Silence enveloped them, thick with unspoken possibilities as Lara mulled over Kasra’s conditions. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally gave her answer.

  “I have no objections,” she said, almost inaudible.

  Kasra’s mood soared at her quiet confirmation. He set their wine glasses aside and turned to her, cradling her face, his fingertips ghosting over her delicate cheeks. Their foreheads touched, noses grazing fleetingly, testing her composure. She closed her eyes, her long lashes fluttering like fragile wings, anticipation mingling with a pang of nervousness.

  His lips found hers—warm, insistent, seeking. His palm slid to the nape of her neck, steadying her as he deepened the kiss. The lingering taste of wine on their tongues, sweet and heady, heightened every sensation. Slowly, she leaned into him, letting herself be carried by the intensity of his kisses, clinging to him as if he were the anchor in her suddenly spinning world.

  Sensing her body turning limp in his arms, he reluctantly pulled back, his voice a low murmur that sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Breathe.”

  She inhaled sharply, her lungs burning before color returned to her cheeks. “Kasra… I might have had a bit too much wine. I should wash up and hit snooze.”

  She wasn’t sure if the wine or his kiss made her dizzy, maybe both. She was unsure how to navigate this uncharted territory.

  Kasra, however, wasn’t ready to end the night. “Darling, you’re feeling lightheaded. You might slip in the shower. Let’s grab your things so you can freshen up in my bathroom,” he said, his tone persuasive yet firm.

  His thoughtfulness wrapped around her like a warm blanket, making her feel cherished. She allowed herself to be led.

  He quickly tidied up the lounge and accompanied her to retrieve her clothes. Then, with fingers entwined, they walked to his room.

  ……

  Inside, he showed her to the ensuite. “Don’t lock the door,” he reminded softly. “I’ll be right here. Holler if you need help.”

  A while later, she emerged in a one-piece bamboo nightshirt, its soft fabric enveloping her like a comforting hug. As she stepped out, she met his intense, hungry gaze. She froze, like a deer caught in headlights. “Um… I… I forgot my toothbrush. I should go—” she stammered, fumbling for a plausible escape.

  Kasra chuckled, reading her nerves. He led her to the vanity, handing her a spare toothbrush. “Spend the night with me?” he coaxed, his timbre smooth as velvet. “Pick whichever side of the bed you like.”

  Lara nodded dumbly, though her heart was hammering against her ribs. She finished up and slipped beneath the covers, the dim lights bathing the room in a golden glow. The California King felt impossibly soft, the Tencel sheets cool against her flushed skin as she curled her back to the bed’s center.

  After his shower, he joined her. He shed the towel from his sculpted waist, lifted the fluffy covers, and slid in beside her, heat radiating between them.

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  “Lara, are you awake?” he purred.

  A sleepy hum escaped her lips as she drifted between consciousness and sleep. Turning to him, his familiar scent filled her nostrils, a blend of fresh mint and masculinity that made her giddy. “Mm… so handsome,” she whispered, dreamy and unguarded.

  Her innocent words stirred something in him. His eyes darkened with desire as he caressed her cheek.

  “Darling,” he rasped, his voice rough with lust, “are you ready for our first time?”

  Lara’s pupils dilated, hesitation crossing her features. “I… I’ve heard it can be painful,” she admitted, her vulnerability clear.

  Kasra acknowledged her concern. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

  Nerves prickled in her stomach, but her apprehension melted with his reassurance. She inclined her head; a silent trust passed between them.

  He lifted her nightshirt, revealing a bralette underneath. A sheepish grin curved his mouth. “How do we get rid of this obstacle?”

  Tsk! How is a bra an obstacle?!

  She giggled, wriggling out of it and tossing it aside.

  The sight awakened a primal yearning. He shifted over her, his breath hot against her ear. “You’re so irresistible, Lara,” he murmured, trailing kisses along her earlobe, down her jaw, and then her neck, each one kindling sparks beneath her skin.

  His mouth captured one of her soft pink areolas, suckling gently, his palm cradling the other. She moaned softly, her back arching as she surrendered to the rush of bliss.

  Attuned to her responses, he moved in cadence with them. He savored every inch of her—the curve of her ribcage, the tautness of her stomach, until he reached her core. He tugged at her bikini underwear, discarding it with a casual flick, sending her pulse racing.

  He climbed over her. “Darling, are you ready?” he cooed.

  Lost in the haze, she managed a sultry “Mm” in reply.

  Emboldened, he returned to her core, gently parting her legs. He moaned as he tasted her, each brush fueling the flames within her. She gasped as the sensations built until she trembled beneath him.

  “Mm, you taste so good,” he mouthed, savoring her essence. Her fingers threaded into the sheets as swells of ecstasy coursed through her.

  His loins were on fire, yet concern held him back. He lifted his gaze, searching hers for certainty. “Lara, are you sure?”

  Her heart thudded wildly, grappling with the weight of surrender, of giving herself wholly and completely. A flicker of doubt lingered, but his restraint steadied her. She gave a faint nod, her answer wordless yet clear.

  She was ready. He aligned his throbbing member at her entrance, teasing her with gentle strokes. Then he entered her with care, inch by inch, straining with the effort to stay controlled.

  But she winced at the unfamiliar ache, and he stopped immediately. “Relax,” he urged. “You’re so tight. Do you want me to stop?”

  “No,” she quavered. “Just… slower.”

  And he obeyed. For those first few minutes, Kasra was everything she trusted him to be—attentive, reverent, almost fearful of hurting her.

  But as the pain ebbed and her body adjusted, their rhythm shifted. The tension turned molten, and their passion flared.

  “Lara…” he groaned, burying his head in the crook of her neck. “You feel incredible.”

  His hips moved with more confidence now, each thrust a little deeper, a little faster, and his patience began to fray at the edges.

  His hand gripped under her thigh, tilting her just enough for the angle to change. She gasped, this time not in pain, but from the intensity of it.

  “Slower,” she urged, but it came out shakier than she meant it to.

  He heard her, but in the haze of pleasure, the line between restraint and desire blurred. “I’ll go slower,” he mumbled, but his movements betrayed him, hungrier now, bolder, more desperate. His thrusts became deeper, his grip firmer. He called her name over and over like a prayer; his self-control had all but vanished.

  She clung to him, overwhelmed by the rhythm neither of them could stop. Part of her didn’t want to. Part of her did.

  When it was over, they collapsed into the pillows, breathless and spent. The silence was thick, not with satisfaction, but with something unspoken.

  “Lara, you okay?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her hair.

  She didn’t answer. She was too sore. Too tired. And too frustrated to put it into words.

  Kasra reached out to touch her shoulder, guilt eating at him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to be so rough. I lost control.”

  Still, she said nothing. That silence lingered long after the night had ended.

  Author’s Note:

  How much is too much? How do I make it passionate without turning it into something over-the-top?