Page 56 of Oliver
And then, as if it never happened, Parisa looped an arm through mine, all sunshine again. “Come on, Zazi, let’s get some air.”
I followed her outside, absently wiping at the sweat I’d built.
Parisa turned to me, looking like she was ready to say something, but then her eyes zeroed in on my neck. “Whoa.”
It took me a second to catch on, and then I saw the makeup smudges on my towel.
“Things got a little…wild last night.” I shrugged, my hand lifting to touch the hickey.
“Yeah, we all heard,” Parisa said, and I groaned, hiding my face behind my hands. “Okay, notallof us. Just those with adjacent rooms. Maybe one room over.”
“You aren’t helping, Pari,” I mumbled from behind my shield of fingers, and Parisa snickered, prying my hands away and holding them in hers, looking at me with affection.
“I just want to know you’re okay, Zazi,” she said in a soft voice. “You seem completely off center.”
Massive understatement.
“Like I said, last night was intense.”
“Did he hurt you?” Then her gaze darted to the mark on my neck, and a small, dangerous smile played on her lips. “You know, in a way, you didn’t enjoy.”
“Parisa Ansari, you are impossible.” I was so flustered with her that I stomped my foot. But I recognized the genuine worry in her gaze, so I answered. I rolled my eyes while doing it, though, because she was still an insufferable nosy brat. “And I enjoyed all of it.”
Parisa squealed, throwing her arms around me as if I had just told her I’d gotten engaged rather than laid.
"It's about time you found someone who makes you happy."
"Thanks," I said quietly, scared that anything else would open a floodgate, that I’d reveal the truth that, despite what we’d shared last night, I didn’t know what to expect when I saw Oliver next. I didn’t know if I’d get stoic, calculated Oliver or passionate, wild Oliver. And I still wasn’t sure if I was happy about sleeping with him.
“I need some air,” I told Parisa, who nodded understandingly. “I’ll be in the garden off the main terrace if you need me.”
With a final hug, we went our separate ways.
I wandered to a quiet spot in the garden with a fountain and several benches, sitting on the one that offered me the most cover from the outside world, and tried to sort through the tangle of emotions inside me.
My hand slipped into my pocket, fingers closing around the button I'd found. So heavy for such a small thing.
We'd crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed, and now I had to figure out how to maintain our professional arrangement when I could still feel him moving inside me, desperate and unhinged.
And the way he whispered my name, like he’d die if he didn’t feel me coming around him, unraveling with him.
But it wasn’t justusthat had shifted. It wasme.
The way Oliver had looked at me, like I was the sun without which his universe would fade into darkness, had awakened something I'd thought long dead, something I'd buried after Ryan.
Trust.
I'd trusted Oliver with my body, with my pleasure, with my surrender. And he hadn't taken advantage. Hadn't used it against me. Hadn't made me feel small or afraid.
Oliver, with all his stops pulled, all his logic and rules thrown out the window, made me feel safe.
“My Lumina.”
Goosebumps freckled my skin when the words echoed in my head, spoken so tenderly, as if I were the most precious thing he’d ever held in his arms.
The scent of the blooms lay heavy in the air, and I closed my eyes, trying to steady my racing thoughts, to find some semblance of control before I spiraled further.
“Zahra, there you are.” Aunt Maryam appeared from around the fountain. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
