he said as he approached the bed. “So exhausted I could sleep on the floor. Oh, that’s right. I’m supposed to do that very thing.”
Nasira pulled back the comforter and pointed to the opposite side of the mattress. “I am willing to take pity on you as long as you maintain a wide berth between us.”
He grinned. “You are most generous, my lady. And I promise I will be the perfect gentleman.”
If only she could believe that. “I will hold you to that promise.”
As Nasira slid beneath the covers, her husband returned to the bathroom then came back without the towel or any clothes whatsoever. “Could you possibly put something on, Sebastian?”
He frowned as he climbed into bed beside her. “Sweetheart, you know I prefer to have nothing on when I sleep. So do you.”
“We are guests in this house.”
He rolled onto his back and stacked his hands behind his head. “I highly doubt Rafe or Violet will do a bed check to make certain we’re appropriately dressed.”
That led Nasira to another question. “What did you and my brother discuss tonight?”
He continued to stare at the ceiling. “The strange ways of women and the complete ignorance of men.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
“Then please explain.”
“At times women say one thing, then do another, while most men are painfully honest. You’d rather spend a day shopping and men would rather engage in sports. Women want to discuss their feelings. Men would rather discuss something as dull as the weather to avoid that at all costs.”
“The last part is definitely accurate,” she muttered.
“Perhaps that’s because we don’t necessarily have deep feelings.”
“Or at least those you care to share.”
Too weary to continue the conversation, Nasira turned off the lamp and turned her back to her spouse. “Good night, Sebastian.”
“Sleep well, Sira.”
If only she could. For at least an hour, maybe more, Nasira tossed and turned, well aware that her naked husband was very near...and deep in throes of slumber, as evidenced by his steady breathing.
Little by little Nasira began to drift off and soon found herself immersed in an erotic state when Sebastian’s hand drifted to her breast. She reveled in the intimate stroking between her thighs. Once more she was captive to his skill and to her own sexuality. Another orgasm—the second one tonight—claimed her with remarkable force. Before the climax had completely calmed, Sebastian moved atop her then eased inside her. Steady thrusts, ragged breaths, undeniable mutual desire...
He whispered her name and she stroked his hair, as if nothing bad had ever transpired between them.
Then suddenly awareness dawned of what they were doing, and what they hadn’t done. “Sebastian,” she said in a harsh whisper. “We have to stop.”
When Sebastian tensed and shuddered, she recognized she had been too late with the warning.
After he finally rolled away, Nasira waited for his reaction and wondered if he was even aware of what had transpired. She received her answer when he sighed, sat up and muttered, “Bloody hell, what have we done?”
She snapped the light on and studied his profile. “Apparently we had unprotected sex.”
He shot her a borderline distressed look. “Apparently.”
“This is not all my fault, Sebastian. I told you to sleep on the rug.”
“You offered me the bed.”
“You did not have to accept.”
“You shouldn’t be so sexy.”
“You should have foregone the liquor.”
He raked a hand through his tousled hair. “It’s clearly futile to blame each other or concern ourselves with the consequences. What’s done is done.”
“If you are concerned about pregnancy, I was off the pill for almost a year before I conceived the last time. It is highly unlikely that would happen again after only one time.”
He appeared skeptical. “Unlikely but not impossible.”
Normally Nasira would be happy to know she might finally have a baby, but not with such serious problems still looming over them. “Would it be so horrible if I happened to be pregnant?”
After punching his pillow twice, Sebastian shifted onto his side, keeping his back to her. “That’s a discussion for another day.”
“A discussion we need to have very soon, Sebastian.”
“Would you prefer I move to the floor?” he asked after a few seconds of silence, reverting back to the man who refused to have any semblance of a meaningful conversation.
She preferred he stop clamming up. “It’s too late to concern ourselves about that now.”
“Then good night, Sira.”
“Good night, Sebastian.”
As she stared at the ceiling, Nasira wondered how she could feel so bereft after making love with her husband. It was as if they’d returned to the days before she had left London—she was suspended in a state of emotional gridlock with a spouse who constantly erected emotional walls. Could they get past the standoff? In the morning she would decide once and for all if finding out would be worth the potential heartache.
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