The Morning After Regrets
1335 Words
Amira POV
"Tell me to leave," I whisper into the darkness. "Or touch me."
His breathing stops. For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. Then his hand finds my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone with devastating gentleness.
"I should tell you to leave," he says, his voice rough with want.
"But you won't."
"No." His mouth crashes against mine. "God help me, I won't."
What follows is a blur of desperate kisses and whispered names. His hands map every curve of my body like he's memorizing it. I arch beneath him, gasping as he worships my skin with his mouth.
"You're so beautiful," he breathes against my throat.
"Don't stop," I beg, my fingers tangling in his hair.
"Never."
The storm outside mirrors the one inside us, wild, consuming, unstoppable. We move together in the darkness, years of want finally unleashed. Every touch is fire, every kiss is a revelation.
When he finally makes me his, I cry out his name like a prayer. He buries his face in my neck, his body shaking with the force of his release.
"Amira," he groans, holding me like I might disappear.
We stay tangled together, hearts racing, breath mingling. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin.
"I've dreamed about this," I admit into the darkness.
"So have I." His voice is soft, vulnerable. "More than I should have."
"No regrets?"
His arms tighten around me. "Ask me tomorrow."
I wake to winter sunlight streaming through the windows and cold sheets beside me. Khalil stands at the window, already dressed in yesterday's clothes. His shoulders are rigid with tension.
"Good morning," I say, stretching languorously.
He doesn't turn around. "Get dressed. We need to catch our flight."
The coldness in his voice makes me pull the sheet up to my chin. "Khalil?"
"This never happened."
The words hit me like a slap. "What?"
"Last night. It was a mistake. It never happened."
I sit up, fury blazing through my veins. "A mistake?"
"We both know it was wrong. We got caught up in the moment"
"Don't." I scramble out of bed, not caring that I'm naked. "Don't you dare minimize what happened between us."
He finally turns, his eyes carefully blank. "It was s*x, Amira. That's all."
"Liar." I move toward him, but he steps back like I'm toxic. "You felt what I felt. You can't fake that."
"I felt lust. Nothing more."
"You're such a coward." My voice shakes with rage. "You want me, but you're too scared to admit it."
"I'm being realistic."
"You're being a coward."
His jaw ticks. "Call it whatever you want. It doesn't change anything."
"You're right." I grab my clothes from the floor. "It doesn't change the fact that you're running away. Again."
"I'm protecting you."
"From what? From being happy?"
"From me." His mask slips for just a moment, and I see the pain underneath. "From the disaster I'll make your life."
"That's my choice to make."
"Not anymore."
I stare at him, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Then I do the only thing I can think of.
I slap him.
The sound echoes through the room like a gunshot. His head snaps to the side, a red mark blooming on his cheek.
"You don't get to want me then run like a coward," I spit. "You don't get to make love to me like I'm the only thing that matters, then pretend it meant nothing."
He touches his cheek, his eyes dark with something I can't read. "Amira.."
"No. I'm done listening to your excuses." I pull on my clothes with shaking hands. "You want to pretend last night never happened? Fine. But don't expect me to make it easy for you."
The flight back to New York is torture. We sit at opposite ends of the private jet, the space between us a chasm of hurt and unspoken words. I stare out the window at the clouds below, trying to forget how it felt to have his hands on my body.
He doesn't look at me once.
Zayne meets us at the airport, his face bright with excitement. "How did it go? Did you close the deal?"
"Signed this morning," Khalil says, his voice professionally neutral.
"Perfect. You two make a great team." Zayne claps him on the back. "Which is why I have a proposition."
My stomach drops. "What kind of proposition?"
"Family weekend in the Hamptons. Mom's been dying to see you both, and I thought it would be nice to celebrate the Morrison deal."
"I can't.." Khalil starts.
"We'd love to," I interrupt, shooting him a sweet smile. "When do we leave?"
Khalil's eyes flash with warning, but I ignore him. If he wants to play games, I'll play along.
"Tomorrow morning," Zayne says. "It'll be just like old times."
"Perfect," I say, still smiling.
The Romano estate in the Hamptons is everything I remember, sprawling lawns, ocean views, and enough bedrooms to house a small army. Mom fusses over both of us, commenting on how thin I've gotten and how tired Khalil looks.
"You work too hard," she scolds him over dinner. "You need someone to take care of you."
"I'm fine, Mrs. Romano."
"Please, you've known me since you were twenty. Call me Elena."
I pick at my food, hyperaware of Khalil sitting across from me. He's been avoiding my eyes all day, speaking only when spoken to.
"Actually," Zayne says, setting down his wine glass, "that brings up something I wanted to discuss."
"Oh?" Mom leans forward with interest.
"I've been thinking about Amira's future. She's so focused on her career, but she needs someone good in her life. Someone who can match her intelligence and ambition."
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. "Zayne.."
"Which is why I've decided to set her up with someone. A good guy. He's joining us for dinner tomorrow."
The words hit the table like a bomb. Mom claps her hands together in delight. Khalil's knuckles go white around his wine glass.
"Who is he?" Mom asks.
"Marcus Whitfield. Remember the Whitfields? He's a federal prosecutor now, Harvard Law Review, comes from a great family."
"Zayne," I say carefully, "I don't need you to.."
"He's perfect for you, Amira. Smart, successful, stable. Everything you deserve."
Khalil's chair scrapes against the floor as he stands abruptly. "Excuse me."
He walks out without another word, leaving us staring after him.
"What's wrong with him?" Zayne frowns.
"Maybe he's not feeling well," Mom says. "The poor boy looked exhausted when you arrived."
I stand on shaking legs. "I should check on him."
"Leave him be," Zayne says. "He's probably just tired from the trip."
But I know better. I know exactly what's wrong with him.
The same thing that's wrong with me.
Later that night, I find Khalil on the beach, staring out at the dark ocean. The wind whips through his hair, and his hands are shoved deep in his pockets.
"You can't avoid me forever," I say, walking up beside him.
"I'm not avoiding you."
"Then why won't you look at me?"
He turns, and I see the war raging in his eyes. "Because every time I do, I remember how you felt beneath me. How you said my name when you came apart in my arms."
My breath catches. "Khalil.."
"So yeah, I'm avoiding you. Because the alternative is dragging you back to my room and finishing what we started."
"Maybe that's what I want."
"And maybe that's why one of us has to be strong enough to walk away."
"Even if it kills us both?"
He looks at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he turns back to the ocean.
"Especially then."
I leave him standing there, my heart breaking all over again. Tomorrow, I'll have to sit through dinner with some stranger while pretending I'm not dying inside.
Tomorrow, I'll have to watch Khalil pretend he doesn't care. Tomorrow, everything changes. But tonight, I'm going to fall apart..
- Writer
