Note:

Na-tamaan is Urdu for incomplete.

I'm out of my head, out of my mind , oh, I

If you let me, I'll be out of my dress and into your arms tonight

I need you to come get me

out of my head and into your arms tonight...

Meerab wrapped her hair in a towel and then tightened her robe. Her wellness practitioner had recommended a hot stone massage followed by a dip in the salt bath, which she had just gotten out of. Her body felt like jelly, her shoulders drooping with relaxation and her neck feeling lighter and its movement feeling smooth after what seemed like ages. This is why some people ran to the spa at every little inconvenience, and Meerab now wholeheartedly wanted to be a member of whatever gang that was. You felt like a new person, and in those few minutes right after the masseuse had finished the deep massage and was just adjusting the towel over her bare back, Meerab had felt like she could conquer any archaic tradition, fazool rasm-o-riwaaj or weird expectations thrown her way. Hell, Maa Begum could show up right here in the spa, in front of her in all her shalwar kameez and silk shawl clad glory, and all Meerab would do was smile and wave in blissful drowsiness.

Her evening of self-care hadn't just rejuvenated her body. Her mind seemed in better spirits than it had been in a while, and things which had seemed like mountains were now looking more like molehills. Meerab wasn't one for delusions; she knew she had a problem. She was clearly unable to control her mind's response to Maa Begum's hypocrisy and betrayal, or any reminder of it. The last few days had been ample proof for her that she needed to sharpen her sword and tighten her armour; she hadn't let the older woman weaken her in the middle of her ruthlessly planned attack, there was no way she was going to let her do so now, when Meerab had been successful in building a life which had the potential to protect her from everything that Maa Begum wanted to fire at her.

Meerab didn't know if it was the post-massage endorphins bolstering her resolve, but who cared as long as she wasn't the tortured mess she had been last week.

As she walked down the hot stone steps which led away from the salt bath she had just been immersed in, her eyes scanned the deserted spa. Just the sight of it was soothing. It was one those places which were so artfully decorated, that it made you want to savour every corner, every crevice of its masterful perfection. Earthy neutrals calmed the mind and soul wherever your eyes wandered, and the heated floors, sweet jasmine scented air and spacious feel of the space made it all feel like a secluded, safe space, away from all the pesky annoyances of the real world.

Coming to stand in the centre hall, underneath a massive Turkish-inspired domed ceiling, which would've been entirely impossible in theory, given this was floor three in a very tall building. Its reality was more breathtaking than anything a mundane mind could've imagined. What was a hallow dome in the middle of the wellness centre, concave in nature, turned into a curved, convex aquarium on the floor above. The aquarium's glass curved over the outside of the dome, onto one side of the fourth floor, and housed exotic marine life from all over the globe. Meerab only knew this because she'd seen the magnificent aquarium herself, and now as she looked up into the high dome, she realised the high ceiling did a lot to ease restlessness and the feeling being trapped; it made you feel like you could breathe freely.

To the side of the chamber, a wide counter was laden with many fruit and herb infused waters, fresh juices and healthy snacks. The chamber led back to the showers and also a corridor which opened onto the section of the sanctuary which dealt cosmetic treatments and makeovers. That corridor led to a changing area and finally opened out onto the entrance, right next to the reception desk. In between all this, the open spaces were used for low-lying loungers, some with hair treatment apparatus attached at the head, a sauna, many jacuzzies, salt and mud baths, and also a traditional Turkish hamam area.

The sounds of birds chirping, mixed with the low, thudding beat of an ancient African drum was constantly flowing through the air, and the air itself was moist, set at just the right humidity to restore hydration and radiation of the body and face. It really was the zenith of relaxation.

Meerab retrieved her phone from the drinks counter and looked down at it for several seconds. Her fingers finally moved, swiping and then finally clicking on the fire symbol displayed at the top of the contact. And then continued to stare at the phone again as if the inanimate object would tell her what to do next whilst she contemplated what to type, feeling the need to communicate somehow. It wasn't an explanation and it absolutely, definitely wasn't an apology, but she wanted to say something. She looked at the time; it was late. Maybe too late to disturb him.

What a chicken.

She frowned at herself. Murtasim wasn't an eighty-two year grandma who would be tucked up in bed by ten pm on Christmas Eve. He worked late nights all the time. Was he home? Or was he at work? She hadn't even glanced at Billionaires Bay in her hurry to get to the spa, so maybe he was there? Why did she care? Maybe she could just type 'Hi' and let him say hello back.

And then what?

She heard an echo around the chamber and realised it was steps on the stone floor. Sighing, she turned to the counter, her bottom lip bearing the brunt of her frustration as she bit down on the pink flesh.

"Oh, so you do have a phone?"

Startled, Meerab dropped the phone on the counter and whipped around, her eyes widening even before she had turned.

Oh, so that's where he was at ten pm on this fine Christmas Eve...

Murtasim had strode straight through the entrance, bypassed the changing chambers and entered the inner chamber of the sanctuary without letting his steps slow down even the tiniest bit. Whipping his coat off, he threw it onto a nearby treatment chair and kept on walking forward until the figure clad in just a white cotton robe was fully visible to him. She was facing away, a phone in her hand, and for some reason, the sight of it sent a sizzle of annoyance into his blood.

The words shot out of him and she turned abruptly, and then as she had a habit of doing, she stopped him in his tracks. Her face, it was like a recently-bloomed rose. Her complexion all rosy and flush from the heat and water, her eyes glassy and wide and her lips looked like two, dewy rose petals as she bit into the lower, fuller one. Her hair was up in a towel, with thick wet curls falling out at the sides and framing her face. He swallowed hard.

Focus on the anger

He blinked himself out of whatever mode he seemed to slide into around her, and started to walk again, his steps slower this time.

"Aksar jab insaan ek agreement karta hai, the decent thing to do is to follow through on it." he spoke into the stone walls around him.

Meerab frowned, confused. Her mind lagging and so still in relaxation mode, when in fact the situation had suddenly escalated way past that, and was now in fight mode.

"And usually, when two people are involved in a courtship-something you wanted- they're even more inclined to follow through on their word." he finished, his brows raised as he walked deeper into the corridor leading to the chamber she was in.

Sudden realisition dawned on Meerab.

He was talking about that agreement? Their courtship and...well, that.

And what follow through? He'd taken her on a date, and now he was suddenly barging into the ladies' section on the spa for what? To demand his side of the bargain? Suddenly, Meerab was as livid as she had been relaxed.

"Kya matlab hai tumhara? Aur tum yahan kya rahay ho? Since you practically live in this building, I don't think I need to tell you that you're trespassing into the ladies' section right now."

"And since you know me, I don't think I need to tell you that I don't give a damn." he rebutted, his face shining with challenge as he walked towards her whilst unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up his forearms.

"Follow through?" she threw the words back at him, ignoring his blatant disregard for rules.

He raised a brow and kept on walking down the long entryway towards the middle chamber. Meerab willed her feet to stand where they were and not step back.

"On what exactly? Tum yahan issiliye aaye ho? We spent an evening together, and so now you're here to collect on the second part of the agreement."

Red flag.

That was what Meerab should've seen being waved in front of her. But she was too furious, and anger right after ultimate relaxation grabbed you by the throat and left you raging red; so red, that you couldn't see the red flag you'd just waved in front of someone else. Murtasim's eyes blazed, but narrowed simultaneously. His jaw clenched, his body tight and his stride unbroken.

She'd just shown red to a bull who was already aching for a fight.

"We spent a night together, and it was the single most useless night I've ever spent. I'll be making sure it doesn't happen again, lekin tum batao. What if I am here to collect?" His brows knitted into a challenging frown.

This entire conversation was pointless, but all Meerab could do was glare at him and do her best not to feel the disadvantage of being significantly less clothed. There was no way Murtasim was here harbouring any ill intent; that's just not how he was.

'I can have you, yes. I will have you, yes. And it will be because you're going to give yourself to me.'

His words at the GrapeVine echoed in her mind, and her eyes narrowed.

"What the hell happened to you?" he threw at her before she could say anything.

And it hit her directly at the corner of her brain she had come to the sanctuary to avoid. Her eyes flitted away as a breath rushed out, and her hands instinctively tightened the belt of her robe. She knew what he wanted to know, and truth be told, she was a little surprised he had noticed the subtle changes in her.

Deny. Deny. Deny.

Her brain blared in warning; the usual response to any conflict or confrontation regarding this particular matter. But tonight, as she looked at the usually calm, composed man she knew, who had just burst into the ladies sanctuary because he'd had enough frustration, Meerab ran towards conflict instead of running away from it.

"Kya matlab?" she pushed him.

He was gritting his teeth, she could just tell.

"You know exactly what I mean, Meerab and you have exactly one minute. Don't test me."

His voice was low, still controlled and every measured word sounded like it was being minced and then ripped out of his clenched mouth.

'Iss waqt, idhar mujhe mat aazmana...'

Suddenly, Meerab was back in the West Ballroom of The Mandarin, in the room they had laid eyes on each other for the first time in Doha, so long ago. His anger, her defiance, his words getting harsher by the second and her resolve getting shakier at the thought of everything she had planned falling through; the Meerab and Murtasim of so many moons ago. Too long ago, it seemed.

'Tumharay paas paanch minute hain, Meerab and you know mujhe kya jaan na hai...'

His mouth curled in anger and affront, and her eyes shining with rebellion as they'd faced each other in his penthouse for the first time. His sharp, jerky actions and her silent resolve, it all flashed in her mind as his words brought their beginning in Doha right before her eyes. His words now were so similar to that night, but everything else was different. His tone wasn't demanding in the way which had her standing in a witness box, ready to be prosecuted for her actions. It still came from a place of utmost power and authority, but now it was lower, familiar and most of all, intimate; like a lover demanding answers.

He was still intimidating, there would never be a time when he wouldn't be, he was just made that way, but his actions and demeanor weren't there to scare the truth out of her. It was just an outlet for his frustration and anger, she understood clearly. The changes were subtle and would've been impossible to catch for anyone not intimately familiar with the man in front of her. But Meerab now knew him more than even she herself had imagined.

Murtasim wasn't so hard to understand when he wanted to be understood. He was in fact, fairly easy to read, at least to her, and right now, she read barely-restrained control and civility.

The differences in them now versus then were stark. And they had her pausing. They had come a long way. For better or for worse, but they were no longer two married, but indifferent individuals who were navigating the frozen lake of their relationship as casually as one dealt with a mildly irritating fly on the wall. They felt now. Any indifference, any anger, any tension, confusion; they actually felt these things, and feelings made everything so much more complicated. So much harder to compartmentalise. The Meerab of then would've deflected and lashed out him even insinuating such a thing. But that was then.

'Don't test me.'

Recalling his words, Meerab abruptly turned from him and walked away, facing the floor length mirror which had been behind her, and watched as his eyes narrowed on hers in the reflection.

"Consider yourself tested." She aimed the inflammatory words at his reflection. "Kya karlogay?"

The words were like echoing ping-pong balls around the stone walls; bouncing off every surface again and again, until the sound of Murtasim's dress shoes on the stone floor overrode them. Meerab watched through the mirror as he got closer and closer, until he was standing just behind.

His only answer was his narrowed eyes.

"You wouldn't." Meerab rebuked, her eyes blazing with a maddening mixture of anger, outrage and strangely enough, utmost trust and confidence.

There was silence for a moment, until he stepped forward so that his chest was just a breath away from the fabric of her robe.

"Meerab mujhe tumse jo chahiye, wo mein akele le nahi sakta. Tumhe ussey mujhe dena hoga, otherwise I don't want it." he almost fired the words at her, his mouth taut and his eyes furious.

Meerab gulped, her lashes coming to cover her eyes as her gaze dropped. His face was carved out of stone and hers was now solemn to match; it was like a heavy moment of reckoning and neither of them could veil the frustration or the chaos raging inside them. It was the classic outlet of months of physical frustration, waiting and a slow burn which would either make or break their usually iron-clad resolves.

He looked at her in the mirror, the soothing sounds of a waterfall and chirping birds around them so at odds with their hostile moods. She felt the towel on her head loosening, knowing it wouldn't last much longer.

"Tumhari to aadat hai. Jo cheez achi lagti, jo cheez chahiye hoti hai, tum ussey haasil karletay ho chahay jo keemat ho."

Murtasim's mouth twisted very lightly into an ironic smile.

"Un cheezon ko kisi bhi keemat par haasil karnay ke baad mera maqsad poora hojata hai."

"Kaunsa maqsad?"

She raised a brow and her hand tightened on the belt of her robe.

"Satisfaction. Enjoyment. Accomplishment." he answered matter of fact.

Meerab paused.

"Aur ab?"

"Tumhay haasil kar ke bhi mujhe ye cheezein tab tak nahi mil sakti jab tak tum ye cheezein na mehsoos karo."

Meerab's eyes closed lightly as her mind absorbed his words. She did; by God she did. She felt that and so much more when he took her into himself and made her feel like God had made that special, wondrous, flying-like feeling just for the two of them, that the spark they had was so rare and so special.

But he needed to know that. Sometimes she felt so transparent, so exposed that she was surprised he didn't know already. The way she was around him embarrassed her at times because where did control suddenly shoot to? Where did resolve, limits or modesty go around this man? Well, well away from her, that much she knew.

He must want her to show him that she felt it, that she was just at the mercy of the chokehold as he, the strongest man she thought to ever exist, was. He didn't want to take blindly, even though Meerab knew there was no way Murtasim was unaware of what he did to her. Force or coercion couldn't even be a consideration; he just didn't need them. Not when it came to her. As much as she had resisted and tried to protect herself from whatever threatened to sweep her into this whirlwind, in Murtasim's arms, Meerab was gone hook, line and sinker.

It was as simple as that, and she had finally come to terms with it. It was exhausting, fighting something you seemed to want with every fiber, every nerve and every cell of your body.

"I want you, lekin mere liye yahan kuch nahi rakha jab tak tum khud mujhe woh na do jo mujhe chahiye. Mai cheen nahi sakta, Meerab. My pleasure depends on your pleasure. Baat sirf itni si hai."

Its not like his words were delivered softly or lovingly. They were just intense and dripped in earnest confidence, but Meerab felt as if he had said something as sweet as a love poem. In fact, to her this was better than a sappy fool reading out a love poem for her. That's just the way she was.

The white towel slid out of its final twist, and as they watched, her dark hair cascaded right out as the white cotton fell to the ground next to them. She stood still in front of the mirror, Murtasim behind her, but not touching her. That in itself was telling, because she wasn't boastful in knowing he couldn't keep his hands off her. The pristine white robe on her creamy skin and his bronzed body clad in black and white made for a stark image. Black and white; opposites.

Meerab's eyes were on him, steadfast in a way they hadn't ever been before; exposed, raw and almost tragically solemn. Murtasim did what he had always done; he looked back unflinchingly, his ever-unwavering gaze feeling like the intangible equivalent of a safe place, a comfort blanket; always there to wrap you into its soothing embrace whenever you felt unsure and unsteady. And Meerab felt both, though in a surprising turn of events and as unequivocal proof of how far they'd come, Murtasim wasn't the source of her uneasiness and tumultuous state of mind.

This was cemented by the new and unexplainable feeling of coming home which had assailed her entire mind and body, after the shock of seeing him inside the sanctuary had worn off.

The front of her robe now hung low, just underneath her collarbone, and just above it, a creamy spot fluttered with the erratic beat of her heart. Murtasim had to gulp as surreptitiously as possible, quite a feat considering his throat had dried and closed up at the way she was looking right now. Her crowning glory, her wild wavy hair was a little limp from moisture, but the undeniable waves clung to the contours of her jaw with the ends at the front tantalisingly stroking the contours of her décolletage. The wet, heavy strands looked startlingly dark against her flushed, creamy skin. Her lashes were dark and framed her wide, solemn eyes, and the flushed glow from their humid surroundings made her look like a goddess of the water; a living, breathing temptation.

His neck was damp and his entire body was now hot, his dress shirt beginning to stick to his chest as he stood unmoving behind her. They had had so many such moments, where it felt like everything hinged in the balance, and so far, they'd had an okay record of setting the balance even.

'I want you, lekin mere liye yahan kuch nahi rakha jab tak tum khud mujhe who na do jo mujhe chahiye.'

His words echoed around in her mind, and the same words were shining in his serious, fierce eyes as he looked into her eyes through the mirror. Meerab felt her body tiring and tightening all at once, and a pained breath escaped her. Where did all her bravado go around this man these days? Being partially clothed may have something to do with it, but Meerab looked back into his stormy eyes, biting the inside of her lip as she tried to recall the girl she had been before this attraction had run rampant between them.

She was brave, fierce and most of all had always been unafraid. Always. She was Meerab. The one who Murtasim had over the years sometimes seriously, and sometimes mockingly called badi himmat wali.

Her eyes wide, almost stricken and harbouring a storm, Meerab took a deep breath and her hands rose to her stomach, as if settling herself. Her fingers moved over her stomach but their eyes never left each other's, and then, as Murtasim watched, Meerab's robe loosened ever so slightly, her shoulders shrugged, and then, in one fell swoop, her pristine white robe fell off her shoulders and the sound of fabric sliding down skin and seemed to ricochet off every stone wall.

It was like no one breathed, no one moved. It was still, the moment and its significance frozen into unbelievable perfection; too delicate to ripple.

Murtasim knew he would remember this moment till the day he was buried into the ground. It would stay with him, in a closed hidden space safe in his mind, forever, and in perfect detail. The way the robe's sleeves bunched around her bent elbows and held the robe up so precariously around her upper body, how her damp hair fell around her décolletage, the way her neck and upper chest was flushed and the tops of her robe kissed her skin just where the inviting slope of her chest began, and her upper back being fully exposed to him as the robe dipped low and skimmed the curves of her waist; everything. He would remember everything about this, and most of all, he would remember that this would be that moment in their lives when Meerab had, in her full mind, let her final and strongest guard down and leaped, asking him to catch her. The moment when they had finally looked each other right into the eyes and accepted what their bodies had been begging them to accept. She wanted him, needed him and Murtasim had no qualms about admitting the same.

His gaze lazily lapping up the sight in front of him like a parched man did to water, he halted at the prominent planes of her delicate collarbone and throat. The way they tense and sharp had his eyes lifting to her face. With her jaw sharp and tense, her face taut, her full, pink mouth opened on a laboured sigh and her eyes open but downcast, she looked regal. Regal, but on an edge and about to fall.

Murtasim looked at her face for just a moment, his eyes dipping to her full form just before coming back up to her downcast eyes. He had just strode right into the maddening haze of his newfound appetite for Meerab. He hadn't needed to think much, nor had he resisted or had many obstacles to wade through, other than her hesitance and the mess surrounding their relationship. It had been as natural as breathing to embrace the attraction and the chase had only intensified it, but as he stood behind his wife, watching her expression closely, he realised she had fought to get to where they were right now.

Fought with their mess and the mess others had created for them, fought him and the new, most likely frightening feelings coursing through her, and most of all, as he traced the taut contours of her face with his eyes, he realised she had fought with herself. Her mind and the voices inside it had been their biggest opponent, and he knew he only had the circumstances created by his own family to blame. But she'd done it. She had fought every doubt, every voice, every warning and every hesitance before finally being able to drop that robe for him, and out of all the impressive, accomplished or brave women Murtasim had met in his life, not a one held a candle to how breathtakingly brave and strong his wife had been through it all.

His body moving before he'd even processed his own thoughts, Murtasim knew a woman like Meerab would only ever let herself become this vulnerable on one condition. As his body bent and his arm hooked under her knees, she folded into his arms as her feet swept off the ground and dangled in the air, her eyes still lowered but blinking at his collar. She needed him take it from here. She had warred with her mind and accepted what he'd been telling her for the last few weeks, and now she was emotionally drained. She had taken a leap, and now she was waiting for him to catch her.

And catch her, he did.

With her sweetly fragrant body snuggled safely against his chest, her face burrowed into his neck and her robe slipped lower still, the soft silky skin of her chest against the smooth, black fabric of his waistcoat. Murtasim gathered her close and dropped a tiny, open-mouthed kiss on the crown of her head, an unexpectedly gentle gesture, but one which told her that he had her from now on.

She could let go.

Meerab's eyes were clenched shut and her mind a storm of feelings. For the longest time, just now, she had felt stuck in the middle of the relief of catharsis and the dread of vulnerability. It had only been a few seconds, during which she knew Murtasim would also have been processing his own shock, but as she'd stood with her robe half-dropped and so vulnerable in front of a man for the first time in her life, she'd nearly dropped herself, from the intensity of emotions raging through her.

And then those hard, muscled arms had wrapped around her, and he'd swept her up and hid her in his strong, unshakable chest, and the dread and doubt had disappeared, and there remained catharsis and only catharsis.

Her eyes peeked from his neck and she saw the familiar stone walls of the sanctuary pass by. Her body swayed as he strode into the heart of the area, right underneath the massive Turkish-inspired dome. Sharply veering to the right, Meerab her body move as his arm reached out and roughly pressed the large on/off button to one of the showers on the back wall of the dome. Her nerves still shaky, a soft, baffled crossed her face as he pressed another, and another, until he'd turned on all the four showers in the row, without a break in his stride. The loud sound echoed around the high-ceilinged chamber and as the hot showers swung into full capacity, steam began to rise up to the sparkling mosaic tiles on the dome.

In the next moment, she was swung down and felt her back hit soft, quilted cushioning, hazily recalling the loungers placed in the middle of the chamber. His body stayed covering hers, and his nose skimmed her collarbone for a second before he leaned up and Meerab felt the air hit her suddenly bereft body. A mewl-like complaint passed from her lips, but was cut off as her eyes looked up and she realised what he was doing.

His espresso-coloured eyes were on her as his fingers deftly opened the buttons of his waistcoat, shrugging it off and throwing on the lounger next to her. His dress shirt was next, and with a few strokes of his fingers, the damp, white fabric was also peeled off and flung on top of the waistcoat. Meerab's breath hitched as his muscled torso, slightly lighter than his tanned face and arms, appeared above her. His watch was next to go.

A dull voice in her mind reminded her that they hadn't even kissed yet, like they had the last time something had happened between them, but she shooed it away. Kisses could come later, because by the look of Murtasim's clenched jaw and taut face, his control was now holding on by threads, and would most likely disintegrate within the next few seconds. She knew that look in his eyes. She had only seen in once during their night together, but Meerab knew exactly what came after it.

Lost in thought, she watched as his controlled fingers unbuckled the black belt around his waist and slipped it out, flinging it onto the growing pile of his clothes. The buckle dipped to the stone floor with a chink, and then then, just as she knew it would, the moment came, when Murtasim was so, so precariously close to having his control snap and there being nothing he could do about it.

He looked down at her, and Meerab realised the top half of her robe had bunched around elbows and the warm steam from the shower had made her already damp upper body bead with little droplets. Her hair stuck to her neck, throat and décolletage, and a heavy breath left her.

There were in the spa.

That errant thought tried to be a voice of rationality, but since when had that worked in the face of passion? The thought and its well-intended rationale was flung aside much like his clothes, as Murtasim leaned down on the lounger, his eyes on hers and his hand at the single button on his black trousers. His other hand slid underneath her back and hoisted her into his chest, and Meerab was glad for the protection it provided. Protection from what exactly, she was unsure, but her bravado and wit seemed to be only limited to her being fully clothed around her husband.

They settled on the large cushioned surface and Meerab felt Murtasim's arm reach down around her as he roughly pulled the lever which lowered the back of the lounger, allowing them to lie flat. As soon as the lounger straigtened and their bodies lay over one another, Meerab felt Murtasim's lips at her collarbone, right where it had been fluttering furiously ever since he had entered the private space. His name escaped her lips on a sigh of sweet, sweet relief, and in return, his rough, desire-ridden voice issued a rough yet intimate complaint.

"Kahan thi tum?" he spoke into her throat, somewhere in the middle of kiss number four and five.

For a man who never complained, because ultimately, he was in charge of all things in his own life and had no one else to complain to, it was an indulgent admission of how much he'd missed her. And it made a wave of tenderness and indulgence wash over Meerab.

"I'm sorry." She breathed into his think, now-damp hair as he moved over her throat and chest, and her hands ran over his smooth, hard back. It was all she could do for now. Any other explanations would have to be shelved for the more important things at hand.

They moved fast after that, and this time, full and total awareness of their actions brought with it heightened emotions. There was no crash and hijack, no pain killers, no trauma, no drowsiness or impaired judgement. There was only Meerab, Murtasim and the blatant need for what they'd wanted since being given a taste so long ago.

His hands found the parting of her robe, and then there wasn't much in the world which could've stopped him. The robe parted and suddenly, she was all his; unobstructed and his for the taking. His hands slid up her sides and back down to her round hips whilst his mouth stayed at the junction at her neck and shoulder, the spot he had craved like a mad man. Meerab's hands touched every part of his back she could find, and then ventured blindly up to his hair-roughened neck, tightening as his teeth grazed her collarbone.

"How sorry?"

His lips moved over the delicate skin, and then without warning, his teeth closed on the thin skin. It was done gently enough not to hurt but deep enough to have her gasp as her body jumped up from the cushioned seat underneath her. Her skin brushed against his as her body jerked into his, and Murtasim's breath rushed out.

His body stiffened as he pulled himself away from her neck and held himself up above her, his bare chest heaving with the effort. His eyes roamed lower from her eyes, over her flushed chest, and lower still until he crossed her waist and reached low enough, and it had Meerab's arm shooting up to hook itself around his neck and pull him back down. His fingers followed the path his eyes had taken, and Meerab's gasp of surprise was heard by every salt and stone wall in the inner chamber of the ladies' sanctuary.

As her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her body sparked with unimaginable pleasure and her hands wildly held onto his muscled back. Her nails dug into his back and her toes curled on the earthy brown lounger. Her moans rang out and she faintly realised why he'd turned all the showers on before. The sharp noises of bliss were dulled by the continuous fall of pressured water, and it had her gasping louder, but honestly, nothing could've stopped the noises spilling out of Meerab's mouth even if the showers had been off. She would blame Murtasim and the effect he had on her, but at that particular moment, she would also most likely forgive him seven murders.

And then just like that, Meerab couldn't take it anymore. There was too much pressure and she felt like she was going to burst. Her lower body felt so wound up and her feet dug into the soft cushioning underneath them. Just as fast as the peak had clamoured, it was gone as Murtasim pulled back, leaving Meerab mid-gasp, her eyes wide. He pulled his arm out from between them and Meerab felt his wet fingers slide up her side as he held himself above her again. Her arms stretched in a bid to get to him come back and her lips pursed as disgruntled moans sounded.

"Shh..." he soothed into her mouth, his mouth sliding over hers.

His hand moved at his waist, and then his trousers were moved out of the way and without pausing their kiss, Murtasim reclaimed the sweet spot he had craved for the last few weeks.

Thank God for the showers.

It was the last coherent thought Meerab had before her feminine gasps and moans, and Murtasim's deeper groans rang out around the hallowed stone chamber.

It was homecoming.

Amidst the cacophony of the thundering showers, the soft instrumental melody and the fevered sounds of their pleasure, both Meerab and Murtasim realised that this wasn't like last time. Despite its frenzied timing, their first time had been experimental. Savoured even, and savoured more deeply on each consecutive round.

But this, this was frenzied in its nature itself. There was no time to experiment or savour. They knew what waited at the end, and after a long, tortuous wait, they just wanted to get there. For some people, everything they did leading up their joining was foreplay, and Meerab and Murtasim were such people. Their foreplay had begun the minute he'd stepped into the sanctuary and had heightened with every angry word and sharp look, and now they needed the climax like they needed air.

And it was so close. But as Meerab felt the raging crescendo, her thighs tightened and the suddenly, there was intense, unimaginable pressure low, deep in her abdomen. It was still pleasure, but it was too much; almost like it threatened to engulf her. Her eyes clenched shut tighter as tears slipped out from the sides, and her mouth was continuously open as gasp after broken gasp emerged. The pressure intensified and she felt her head shaking of its own accord.

It was too much. It was going to be too much.

Murtasim wasn't sure if he felt light headed or if his vision was just blurring, but as his body tightened in that very familiar feeling of near-completion, he hoisted himself higher and angled himself deeper, earning a delighted shout from his wife. Knowing just how close he was, his head lifted from her damp neck instinctively, needing to see her face and making sure she was right there with him.

What he found wasn't the easiest of things to decipher whilst in the throes of an impending, and long overdue release.. Resting his elbows on either side of her lithe, writhing frame, Murtasim clenched his teeth together from the effort it took to slow down. Sweat beaded at his temples and down his back as he fought against his release, focusing just on her.

Her head shook side to side, her eyes were closed and two clear streams of tears ran from either side of her eyes.

"Eyes, Meerab." he commanded, and was obeyed instantly as her light brown orbs, heavy with desire opened onto his face.

"It's too much." She half mumbled and half moaned in frustration, her head still shaking from side to side and her body still moving to the rhythm he'd set.

"Murtasim." It was a shaky cry for relief. "I can't. I can't."

Her voice and lips shook from the intensity, and though Murtasim's experience with Meerab's climax was limited to a grand total of three times, he knew this woman's body better than he knew how to fly a plane, and his flying was damn near impeccable. The way her muscles were currently clenched around him, the way her thighs felt tense and her legs had come to bend at the knees, tightening around his waist, it was crystal clear to him that she was a breath away. She just couldn't let go for some reason. And he needed her to let go; for him and for her. They needed her to let go, or he was probably going to expire right there in the spa at The Mandarin, and that wouldn't do either of them any good.

His lips met hers for a brief moment before he pulled back and looked into her eyes, moving as slowly as he possible could without letting the urge to let go himself ripped into him. Reaching down to take her hand, he intertwined his in hers and lifted their hands up above her head, making her body arch up sharply. In the smoke of mind-numbing yearning, he felt their fingers touch a thick, wet paste, and as he dug their hands deeper, he realised it was a clay hair mask from the hair care and wash station positioned at the head of the lounger. Their intertwined fist slid deeper into the thick paste as Meerab's body stretched as far as it could go, every nerve ending on fire with the sensation. Taking her as far as her body could accommodate him and her, he took her lips in his and kissed her like his life depended on it.

"Meerab." he breathed onto her face after the kiss, making her eyes open onto his.

Then, as a moan slipped put from her at the sound of her name, he lowered his lips to her ear and let a string of instinctive words slip out of his mouth even as his body screamed for release.

His voice, so throaty, rumbled the words into her ear, and it was just one sentence, but as the words swirled in her ear and registered in her haywire mind, Meerab felt the last of the physical resistance shatter. The thrill and shooting of pleasure though her spine at his unexpected words had the clinching effect, and Meerab's uncontrolled wails pierced even the protective auditory veil of the waterfalls. She let go, and so spectacularly that her body shook and jerked underneath his without a care in the world. As if on cue, Murtasim's body sped up, and pushed on by the sounds of her desire, let go seconds after.

His entire body shuddered with the force of the intense release, and his mouth passionately travelled up from her neck, breathing sharp gasps and groans into her mouth before travelling back down to bite down on the moist, now salty skin. It went on forever, as their damp, writhing bodies clung onto one another and rode wave after wave of all things nirvana.

Like this, they had no troubles, no qualms and no obstructions. Like this, they were on exactly the same page, with exactly the same goals and no contention. Like this, they were just Meerab and Murtasim, the man and the woman and nothing else. He was hers and she was his in all the ways which mattered at the primal core, if only for the few moments it took to reach the peak, ride the high and then spiral into an unrivalled satisfaction.

Satisfaction, enjoyment and accomplishment indeed. He had been so right. Meerab had never felt all three all together so intensely, and peering at her husband's pleasure and sweat soaked face nestled into her neck, Meerab was pretty sure he hadn't either. At least not in this department. Her mind, body, even her bones all felt so heavy. She couldn't move, her eyes were drooping and the clutches of sleep were tight around her.

He was also spent, she could tell. His body was heavy on hers and the feeling was surprisingly a little too comforting considering he was a lot heavier and all of it was muscle mass. It felt good, the way he also lost control and how she wasn't the only one out of her mind with desire. It made giving in fully less scary.

She took a tired breath, her body still shuddering with little quakes of the aftermath, and turned her face into his exposed neck. Skimming her nose along the long, defined slope from his ear to his hair-roughened neck, she opened her mouth but only a little moan came out. It caused him to spasm a little inside her, but his body didn't move. Meerab gulped, letting her eyelids droop but fought the downiness.

"I wanted to call."

Her words hung in the air which was drenched with the remnants of desire; neither explanatory nor expectant. He was still, his hot breath on her now-wet shoulder and his heart beating against the soft muscle of her chest. Meerab wasn't in the habit of explaining her actions or running after acceptances to apologies, but then this wasn't an explanation or an apology.

'Mai tumse baaki cheezon ke waaday nahi kar raha, sirf ek waada karsakta hu. Humari shaadi mai meri taraf se imaandari mai kabhi kami nahi hogi. Jab tak zinda hoon, poori imaandari se nibhaun ga.'

'Aur mujhse? Bas imaandari chahiye? '

'Tumhe jo dena hai, jitna bhi dena hai, tum woh dena.'

This was her imaandari, the promise she had made.

"Mujhe dar se bhaagna acha nahi lagta." she mumbled, hiding her face deeper into his hot shoulder.

There was silence and it was disturbing her post-climax euphoria. Before she could think, the hand which was still intertwined with his­-and in something cold and wet?-squeezed around his, urging a response. He stayed still for what seemed like ages, but then his hand tightened around hers.

Hallelujah!

See, this is why she disliked putting herself in situations which had the potential to make her vulnerable. It disrupted her equilibrium, and she didn't like that. She waited, her mind begging her to shut off and let sleep take over.

"Tumhe mujhse dar lagta hai?" his voice vibrated all along her body, making her eyes fight to stay open.

Meerab's hand tightened on his shoulders as he lifted his head just enough so that his nose could skims hers. She tried to lift her sleepy eyelids and look into his eyes. They weren't drowsy like hers, but they shone with a kind of deep satisfaction and relaxation which she had never seen in him. Ever.

Forcing herself to mull over his question, she took a moment and then clicked her tongue in a 'no'. His brow rose.

"Lagna chahiye." he decreed, but as always, the glint in his eyes let her know of his mirth, which often emerged from within his usually stoic self around her.

The glint dulled as his eyes became serious.

"Tumhe to kisi cheez se dar nahi lagta tha." he reminded her.

Meerab opened her heavy eyes and looked at him for as long as she could keep her eyes open, before sliding them shut. She was quiet for a few minutes and only their breathing penetrated the calm.

"Mujhe sirf ek na-tamaam zindagi se dar lagta hai." she finally revealed on a tired sigh, the tiredness making her unusually frank.

Her eyes were fully shut and her breathing even with a tired sleep by the time she had sighed the last word, leaving Murtasim to mull over and swallow the unembellished reminder of how different their core lives were, and how though their bodies had gotten what they'd been craving for, Meerab was still fighting a lonely and intangible crusade against the iron-clad traditions and restraints of the dynasty he currently presided over.

He looked down at the figure wrapped around him. So fierce yet so delicate. It was a winning combination in Murtasim's opinion; the only question was if what she wanted to win would end in them losing this. Not if he could help it, and judging by her actions tonight, neither would she. His wife had decided that she wanted him, and if he knew Meerab the way he thought he did, then that meant come hell or high water, she was going to get him.

Good.

"Meerab?" he called huskily, trying to see if she was awake enough to get up.

Meerab had grossly misunderstood when she had thought the post massage high was the zenith of relaxation. It didn't even compare to what Murtasim was able to achieve when working on her body. His voice came from somewhere far, far away, and it sounded so soothing. Soothing enough for her finally give into the exhaustion and tune out of awareness. Back to back twelve hour flights, the hectic schedule and the added stress of the week had all come out, but now there was nothing picking at her mind, keeping her awake and tense, and so her body did what it desperately wanted to do; she relaxed all of her weight onto the strong arms and hard body around her, trusting him with everything in that tiny moment.

Murtasim lifted himself off his wife's warm, supine body. She was fully out. Stroking a finger across her collarbone in a last attempt to get a response from her, he pulled back as she continued to sleep. He looked down at himself with a grimace. He was hot, sticky, his entire body was damp and under normal circumstances, you couldn't have gotten him in his old clothes even at gunpoint, but as he looked down at the unsuspecting figure lying blissfully unaware of her surroundings, he decided that he'd risked her reputation enough for an evening.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled on his damp clothes, turned the showers off and covered Meerab's body with a soft blanket from the adjacent lounger. His insatiable body gave a little kick of awareness low in his groin at the sight of rosy, radiant body, but he curbed it. Washing his hands to get rid of the clay mask, he then wiped Meerab's fingers clean with a wash cloth. Walking out to the outer chamber, he fished his phone his phone out of the suit jacket thrown there when he'd entered.

"Clear the area from the spa reception to my lift." He issued the terse order to the head of security detail, gave a few more instructions and then hung up. Fixing his now-wet hair, he adjusted his belt and looked around for the carry-on he'd seen Meerab taking into Zenith. He couldn't take her out in the state she was in right now, and since she'd been back from a flight, she was bound to have spare clothes.

Not one outfit in the carry-on made sense. Not a single item of clothing. Murtasim frowned as he rifled through the contents of the cream Chanel carry on a few minutes later. Everything was brightly coloured and like it had been plucked randomly from an assortment of rainbow coloured clothes. A sage green top but no trouser of the same colour. Instead, there was a burgundy coloured trouser with the same crinkle effect that the sage green top had, and so Murtasim assumed they went together. Whatever happened to neutrals and solid colours?

Plucking the co-ord out of the bag, he gently lifted a practically comatose Meerab into his lap and pushed her hair back from her face. She didn't even moan when he lifted her arms up and into the top and lay her back as he slid the trousers on. Definitely no more satiation for his still charged body, that was for sure. She was exhausted.

His phone rang to tell him that his instruction had been carried out. Murtasim didn't waste a second in scooping Meerab into his arms and striding right out of the section of the sanctuary they'd just christened. The reception was empty and so was the corridor which led to his executive lift. It bypassed the glass casing which overlooked the lobby and afforded them total seclusion; something they needed, because he was pushing it as it was. If she ever bothered to remember how she'd gotten from the lounger they'd made love on to wherever she woke up in the morning, she was going be confused, outraged and then spitting mad, in that order. More than that, he was hoping she would skip right past the part where he'd told a receptionist that he was entering the ladies' sanctuary knowing which lady was inside.

He'd deal with the receptionist later on.

The lift purred and then swished open in the foyer of his penthouse. He'd just laid Meerab down on his bed when the lift intercom rang. It was Smithson, his Head of Security, standing in the foyer with Meerab's carry-on, phone, and his waistcoat and watch. Murtasim looked at the man for a beat before gesturing for him to place the items in the powder room in the foyer.

The other man cleared his throat as he walked back to the lift.

"Good evening and Merry Christmas, Captain Khan."

"Thank you and to you too, Smithson." Murtasim wished back, knowing the other man wanted to be anywhere but here right now.

"I need you to add a person to your surveillance list. You'll now be detailing someone else too. The name is Meerab Khan. I'll send a photo over tomorrow." he ordered.

Smithson just nodded his head like it made all the natural sense in the world.

"As you wish, Captain."

"That will be all." Murtasim dismissed.

And that was all. For the first time in absolute ages, Murtasim slid into bed and didn't have to dream about how his gorgeous wife would feel wrapped around him. As her soft, delicate limbs slid over his longer, hard ones and and she moaned in delight, Murtasim Khan fell asleep without having his cigarette for the first time since he'd taken up.the dangerous recreational habit.

Hello hello my dear readers! Happy MeerAsim reading<3

The NOP 2 has arrived! I hope its all you wanted and more. I certainly had a grand time writing it! I had been mulling over the ideas for their second time for so long. I wanted it to be meaningful, very HkP and a very significant step in their physical relationship, and then it suddenly came to as I was getting a facial a few weeks ago! I kid you not, other than a rough idea about knowing I wanted them to be standing in front of a mirror and for Meerab to drop the robe, everything else was finalised right there during my own spa experience!

Also, for everyone who wanted Meerab to show and feel more, I hope you understand and appreciate how significant her actions were for a girl like HkP Meerab(or for any girl tbh!) Also, how amazingly does this chapters musical inspiration fit on HkP Meerab , especially in this chap?! Photo inspo in header.

Enjoy, feedback is much appreciated and for now, lets just let the Captain and his lily sleep and snuggle in peace :D

Till next time, D xo