Page 89 of Moros

Rolling over, I stared at the clock wondering what had gotten into me that night. Morgana warned me—whether it was her life’s experiences or just her being married, something told her I was making a mistake.

And though she barely knew me, she tried saving me from this.

She’d been disappointed in me too.

The look she gave me as she exited the room, leaving me to get pretty for some man I didn’t even like because of a—a what, exactly?

An ego trip?

Unable to fall asleep, I crawled out of bed to dump the outfit I’d worn out with Todd into the garbage. He’d touched the small of my back, my shoulder, my hops—his hands had been the outfit.

I stopped to use the bathroom and washed my face before making my way down the steps and into the kitchen. Khadri standing at the backdoor, staring out in the dark with a mug in his hand startled me.

“I didn’t know you were here.” I told him, immediately turning to leave.

“You don’t have to leave.” He told me, but didn’t look at me. “I just came down to get some ginger tea.”

“Oh…” I got myself a bottle of water then paused. “Ginger—are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He sighed and turned.

“I’m having a migraine.” He admitted. “It’s not as bad as others?—”

Nodding, I wrung the cap from the bottle and drank most of it.

“Um—they do say that—” I stopped.

It was a battle trying to decide if I should tell him what was in my head or keep it to myself. As I stood there staring at him, I realized he was hurting. He didn’t complain—just the look in his eyes and the way he held his shoulders as he gripped the island to stay on his feet until he could pull himself onto a stool.

Setting the bottle on the island, I walked over to him, stood between his thighs and framed his cheeks.

“What—what are you doing?” Khadri asked.

“Helping you with your migraine.” I whispered.

Without warning I kissed him.

He didn’t kiss me back.

As a matter of fact, he clutched my hips and eased me backward.

“Khadri—”

“I don’t want you.”

I winced, but didn’t leave like my soul was telling me to do. Instead, I gritted my teeth—if I left him here, if I walked away, he’d never talk to me like he did before.

He’d never grow to care for me again—to trust me.

“Not like this.” He added, closing his eyes and moaning.

“You’re in pain!”

“That’s not—” Once again he closed his eyes.