Sorry it's coming late... I was sick🤍

They shared lunch, their conversation flowing effortlessly between laughter and light-hearted banter about everything and nothing.

"This is so good," Jadwa said, savoring each bite of the meal laid before her. "He really cooks well."

Imran, taking a sip of his chilled water, nodded. "He does."

"But," Jadwa tilted her head, curiosity coloring her tone, "is there really a need for a chef? It's just the two of us."

Imran smiled softly, leaning back in his chair. "He's happy to help, and once you start school again, I don't want you stressing about meals or anything like that."

Jadwa nodded thoughtfully. "I want to be the one cooking, though," she admitted, letting her shoulder drop as she spoke.

Imran chuckled. "It's your house, Jadwa. You can do whatever you want. Just don't stress or inconvenience yourself."

A playful glint sparked in her eyes as she smiled widely. "Yes, sir."

"They're coming back this weekend, aren't they?" she added, referring to her sisters, his sisters and her friends, her excitement bubbling over.

Imran leaned back further in his seat, nodding. "Yeah, they are."

"I can't wait! Should we host something for them? Maybe invite your friends too?" she suggested eagerly.

He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, dragging the words, "I don't want anyone in the house."

Jadwa folded her arms, narrowing her eyes at him.

He peeked at her with a smirk. "Let's just keep enjoying our peace—just the two of us."

She laughed, shaking her head at his antics. "They're our family and friends, Albi."

"Exactly," he said, sitting up straight. "Which is why they should give us at least a few months if not a year before invading our sanctuary."

Jadwa burst out laughing. "Don't be like that! People are going to think you're obsessed with me."

"I am obsessed with you," he shrugged, pulling her chair closer to his in one smooth motion. "Addicted, even," he whispered huskily before gently biting her ear.

Jadwa, flushed and laughing, wriggled in his hold. "Aren't you going to the mosque?"

"Mmm," he murmured, his grip not loosening. "You made me a promise this morning."

Her eyes widened. "You didn't forget?"

"Of course not," he said, his voice low, tightening his embrace. "I want it now."

She laughed, shaking her head at their playful back-and-forth. "Will I get to host everyone?"

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. "Will I get what I want?"

Jadwa couldn't contain her laughter. "Yes."

Imran grinned, finally releasing her. "Then, by all means, host away."

__________________________

After praying, Jadwa retreated upstairs to call her sisters and Ammi on video call, excitedly deciding on a date for the gathering. A weekend seemed perfect, as it would give Imran the chance to invite his friends too. She wanted it to be a grand, intimate inclusive lunch. His family, her friends, their friends—all together.

Scrolling through her iPad, she crafted the perfect Mediterranean-inspired menu, making sure every detail was flawless. She wouldn't have the time to make deserts herself because of the huge feast she was going to make so The moment her orders were placed for the deserts using Imran's card, of course as per his instructions—she decided to call him.

"Babygirl," his deep voice rumbled through the phone. "What's up?"

Her smile widened, hearing the buzz of conversations in the background. "Nothing," she replied softly. "Babe?"

"Hm?" he hummed, waiting for her to continue.

"I placed some orders for dessert for the weekend," she said, her fingers twirling a strand of her hair nervously.

"That's fine, babe. Is there anything else?" he asked, his voice warm and relaxed.

"Well, I wanted to ask what you want for dinner."

Imran chuckled lightly. "I'm having dinner with Ibrahim and some old friends. Just make me some tea when I get back."

"Tea, got it," she smiled, picturing him among his friends.

"My bride isn't cooking yet. Please."

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "Alright, just tea then."

"Not just tea" She heard him say and shifting, perhaps finding a quieter corner. Then his voice came again, this time in a lower, more serious tone. "Baby, the lap dance."

Jadwa shut her eyes, her cheeks heating up at the reminder of the promise she hadn't thought he would remember. "Okay," she whispered, biting her lip.

"Should I come home now?" he teased.

"No," she laughed. "Take your time. I'll be waiting."

"Okay, baby," he responded, the smile evident in his voice.

"And don't forget to invite your friends for lunch this weekend."

"Yes, Ma'am," she giggled before ending the call.

The moment she hung up, Jadwa sprang into action, setting the mood for the evening. She lit coals and filled the house with a calming, sweet fragrance, making sure to add an extra-special scent in Imran's room. After that, she indulged in her nighttime skincare routine, letting the warm steam from the shower soothe her nerves.

Standing in front of her closet, she hesitated, staring at her selection of lingerie and nightwear. Most of it felt far too risqué for her usual style, and she fidgeted for a full ten minutes, trying to choose something that wouldn't leave her blushing too much. Eventually, she settled on a powdery blue slip dress from SavageXFenty, complete with matching lace underwear.

The dress was beautiful—delicate and soft—but as she stared at her reflection, her breath caught. It barely covered her upper thighs, leaving her feeling both elegant and exposed. She had never worn anything so revealing in front of Imran before.

Taking a deep breath, she gave herself a quiet pep talk, adding a touch of gloss to her lips and a light blush to her cheeks. Her hair was misted with a soft scent, just as she heard footsteps outside.

Jadwa instinctively hid in her closet as Imran walked into his room. He seemed completely at ease in his blue sports shorts, shirtless, moving around the room with practiced ease. The sound of the shower running told her he was getting ready for the evening.

Gathering her courage, she finally left her room and settled onto the couch in the living room, wrapping herself in a throw blanket as she absently watched TV. It wasn't long before she heard the room door open, and there he was, striding confidently into the living room.

"Habibty, you're here," he said, his voice sending a pleasant shiver down her spine as he walked toward her.

Jadwa tried her best to keep composed, but the sight of him muscles flexing, his natural strength evident in every movement—made her heart race. She swallowed hard, her cheeks heating up.

"Yes," she replied softly.

"You didn't even come to welcome me home properly," he teased as he closed the distance between them.

Her lips quirked up in a smile, and she stood, taking a few tentative steps toward him. "Welcome back," she said, her voice soft but filled with affection.

Jadwa could feel the tension thickening in the air as Imran's silence lingered. She looked up at him, her eyes locking onto his face. His breath had visibly hitched, and the playful smile that had danced on his lips moments before was now gone, replaced by a serious, almost primal expression. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his gaze unwavering as it traced the length of her body.

He took a small step back, his eyes raking over her from head to toe, trying to drink in the entirety of her appearance. For a long, charged moment, neither of them moved. His gaze was fixated on her, his eyes doing all the talking, dark with desire and intent.

Finally, Jadwa broke the silence. With a soft step forward, she closed the distance between them. Her fingers found the edge of his beard, and she gently ran them through the coarse strands as she stood on her toes. "Breathe," she whispered, her voice light, as her fingers continued to comb through his beard.

Imran let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, brushing against her fingers as she rested them near his mouth.

"Welcome back," she said with a tilt of her head, a playful smile gracing her lips.

He nodded, but words still evaded him. His senses were overrun, his ears buzzing with the sound of his racing heartbeat, his eyes glued to her every inch, his mind clouded with thoughts he couldn't voice. His hands instinctively found their way to her lower back, pulling her closer until the hem of her short silk dress lifted slightly. His palms rested against the warmth of her skin, his fingers splayed against the curve of her waist.

"Your tea will get cold," she murmured, her voice low and sultry, though the thought of tea was the farthest thing from her mind.

"I don't want the tea," he replied, his voice gravelly and thick with want.

Jadwa's lashes fluttered, her smile deepening. She could feel the intensity of his gaze, the heat of his hands sliding beneath the fabric of her dress. "You're so hot," he murmured, his words rough and unfiltered, like a confession.

Her fingers traced the defined muscles of his chest, her touch light, almost reverent, as though savoring each dip and ridge of his torso. She brushed her thumb gently along the center of his abdomen, then retraced the path, feeling the tautness of his skin, the way his muscles contracted beneath her touch.

With a gentle sway, she broke contact and glided over to the remote control, her hips moving in rhythm with an internal melody. Her eyes stayed on him, a glimmer of mischief in her gaze. She clicked on a song from their playlist—a song laced with memories of the past, of a fight they'd once had right before the wedding and he almost went crazy over the video of her dancing at a girls games night. As the familiar melody filled the room, she handed him the tea with a cheeky smile.

Imran took the cup from her, but his attention never left her. His gaze followed her every movement as she danced away from him, swaying to the rhythm, the beat of the music syncing with the beat of his heart. His pulse quickened as she moved with deliberate slowness, the flimsy dress clinging to her form, rising ever so slightly with each roll of her hips, teasing him with glimpses of her skin.

He leaned forward, his breath coming in shallow bursts, the tension almost unbearable. He dragged his hand through his hair, eyes locked on her as if afraid to blink, afraid to miss a single second. His restraint was slipping, and he threw his head back, inhaling deeply, trying to calm the fire that burned inside him.

Jadwa caught the look on his face, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with desire... and the sight brought a knowing smile to her lips. She slowed her movements even further, swaying just out of his reach, her body moving sensually to the rhythm of the music. She loved watching him unravel, seeing the usually composed Imran lose control, if only for a moment.

With a playful glint in his eye, he leaned back into the sofa, patting his lap in invitation. "Come here," he murmured, his voice rough and edged with a hunger that sent a thrill through her.

Jadwa let out a soft, teasing laugh. "You're so impatient," she said, her tone light, playful.

"Stop playing with me, Jadwa," he groaned, shifting in his seat, his frustration palpable. His voice had dropped to a low, dangerous growl, a warning she was tempted to ignore.

But she didn't stop. Instead, she turned her back to him, continuing her slow, hypnotic movements. Her hips rolled, her body swaying as though the music was pulling her along. She knew she was testing his patience, pushing him to the edge.

"Jadwa," he said again, more firmly this time, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Come. Here."

She paused, her body still, the air between them crackling with tension. Slowly, she turned her head to look back at him over her shoulder, her smile deepening at the intensity in his eyes. She had won this little game, and they both knew it.

Finally, she crossed the room, closing the distance between them. As she reached him, his hands immediately found her hips, gripping her tightly and pulling her onto his lap. She could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the raw power of his restraint barely contained beneath the surface.

And in that moment, neither of them needed words. The look in his eyes, the feel of his hands on her, the way her body responded to his—all of it spoke volumes. The tension, the anticipation, the unspoken desires hung in the air between them, waiting to be fulfilled.

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