Chapter 173

“Roshanay,” his whisper came and before she knew, his lips came crashing down against hers. The impact was soft but final, like a door closing on a past she had been trying to escape. He moved his hand behind her neck, fingers threading gently yet firmly into her hair, holding her as though she might vanish if he let go. He kissed her. His other hand went to her waist and pushed her body against his, the warmth of him pressing through thin layers of clothing, solid and real after so many nights of emptiness. Emptiness, she realized, had been a choice—and she had made it alone. He kissed her as if a thirsty man was drinking water after ages, deep and urgent, pouring his heart and soul into every movement of his mouth against hers. There was no hesitation, no careful distance, only a fierce need that seemed to have been waiting years to break free.

She was breathless but she didn’t stop him. Stopping him would have meant stopping herself, and she had done enough stopping for a l