feeling.
Still, a note of apprehension lingered, forcing words through her lips before her brain could filter them. “Just…go slow,” she panted. “I’ve never…”
Tariq froze. “Oh, angel.” Easing his hand out from beneath the hem of her dress, he pushed away to sit at the other end of the sofa.
“You don’t…you don’t want…” She didn’t know what to say, didn’t really understand what had just happened. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Cami, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Tariq held his arms out for her and cuddled her close to his bare chest when she scrambled into his lap. “Believe me, I want you unbearably, but not like this, not for your first time.” He kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, and each corner of her lips. “You deserve better than that.”
Cami didn’t argue, but she didn’t necessarily agree. However, she understood the point Tariq was trying to make, and her heart warmed that he would put her needs before his own.
Without his body to distract her, the warmth didn’t last long. Pain and uncertainty came rushing back, spreading to fill every corner and crevice of the emptiness. Her thoughts swirled in a chaotic storm, never holding to one idea for too long, but they all inevitably circled back to her family. Without the numbness to protect her, sadness gave way to despair, which eventually bled into panic.
“No one is looking for me. No one is coming.” She could read minds and had yet to find a language she couldn’t translate. Beyond that, she had no discernable job skills. She didn’t even know how to wash her own clothes. “They’re not coming. My family isn’t coming for me. I’m alone, Tariq. I’m all alone, and I don’t have anyone.”
Combing his fingers through her hair, Tariq held her motionless, forcing her to look him in the eyes before he spoke. “You have me.”
* * * *
Cami had never seen a microwave before. “So, you put food in there, and it what?” She stared transfixed as the plate of sliced chicken spun around on the glass turntable. “It cooks it?”
“Or warms it.” Tariq chuckled under his breath. “The chicken is already cooked. The microwave is just reheating it.”
It wasn’t the only thing in Tariq’s quarters that had confounded her. The previous night, she’d spent fifteen minutes in the bathroom cycling through variations of “shower on” before Tariq had finally come to her rescue. When he’d turned the levers to start the spray of water, Cami had been appalled, but the promise of a hot shower had proven too tempting to resist.
Once she’d finished bathing, she’d run into another problem when she couldn’t find a drying chamber. Again, Tariq had come to her aid, laughing his fool head off as he’d cracked the door to pass her a towel. Cami still couldn’t understand how drying her body with a sheet of cotton was in any way efficient or even sanitary.
Leaning closer to watch the spinning food, she lost her footing and stumbled forward, catching herself by placing both hands against the door of the microwave. At the same moment, loud electronic beeps emitted from the whirring machine, scaring her half out of her wits.
“Oh, shutterbug, I think I broke it.” Cami fluttered her hands over the buttons on the side panel but didn’t know which one to press. Then the lights turned off, the fan stopped blowing, and the whole thing went silent and dark. “Shoot. I really broke it now.”
Tariq’s deep, baritone laughter echoed through the apartment. “You didn’t break it. That means the food is ready.”
Knowing she’d just be in the way, Cami shimmied up on the counter to watch Tariq finish preparing their dinner. “Sorry. I guess I’m kind of useless.”
“Stop it,” Tariq growled. Dropping the plate on the counter with a loud clang, he turned to her, positioning himself between her legs. “Tomorrow, against my better judgment and all of my instincts, we’re going to the docking bays to
Still, a note of apprehension lingered, forcing words through her lips before her brain could filter them. “Just…go slow,” she panted. “I’ve never…”
Tariq froze. “Oh, angel.” Easing his hand out from beneath the hem of her dress, he pushed away to sit at the other end of the sofa.
“You don’t…you don’t want…” She didn’t know what to say, didn’t really understand what had just happened. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Cami, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Tariq held his arms out for her and cuddled her close to his bare chest when she scrambled into his lap. “Believe me, I want you unbearably, but not like this, not for your first time.” He kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, and each corner of her lips. “You deserve better than that.”
Cami didn’t argue, but she didn’t necessarily agree. However, she understood the point Tariq was trying to make, and her heart warmed that he would put her needs before his own.
Without his body to distract her, the warmth didn’t last long. Pain and uncertainty came rushing back, spreading to fill every corner and crevice of the emptiness. Her thoughts swirled in a chaotic storm, never holding to one idea for too long, but they all inevitably circled back to her family. Without the numbness to protect her, sadness gave way to despair, which eventually bled into panic.
“No one is looking for me. No one is coming.” She could read minds and had yet to find a language she couldn’t translate. Beyond that, she had no discernable job skills. She didn’t even know how to wash her own clothes. “They’re not coming. My family isn’t coming for me. I’m alone, Tariq. I’m all alone, and I don’t have anyone.”
Combing his fingers through her hair, Tariq held her motionless, forcing her to look him in the eyes before he spoke. “You have me.”
* * * *
Cami had never seen a microwave before. “So, you put food in there, and it what?” She stared transfixed as the plate of sliced chicken spun around on the glass turntable. “It cooks it?”
“Or warms it.” Tariq chuckled under his breath. “The chicken is already cooked. The microwave is just reheating it.”
It wasn’t the only thing in Tariq’s quarters that had confounded her. The previous night, she’d spent fifteen minutes in the bathroom cycling through variations of “shower on” before Tariq had finally come to her rescue. When he’d turned the levers to start the spray of water, Cami had been appalled, but the promise of a hot shower had proven too tempting to resist.
Once she’d finished bathing, she’d run into another problem when she couldn’t find a drying chamber. Again, Tariq had come to her aid, laughing his fool head off as he’d cracked the door to pass her a towel. Cami still couldn’t understand how drying her body with a sheet of cotton was in any way efficient or even sanitary.
Leaning closer to watch the spinning food, she lost her footing and stumbled forward, catching herself by placing both hands against the door of the microwave. At the same moment, loud electronic beeps emitted from the whirring machine, scaring her half out of her wits.
“Oh, shutterbug, I think I broke it.” Cami fluttered her hands over the buttons on the side panel but didn’t know which one to press. Then the lights turned off, the fan stopped blowing, and the whole thing went silent and dark. “Shoot. I really broke it now.”
Tariq’s deep, baritone laughter echoed through the apartment. “You didn’t break it. That means the food is ready.”
Knowing she’d just be in the way, Cami shimmied up on the counter to watch Tariq finish preparing their dinner. “Sorry. I guess I’m kind of useless.”
“Stop it,” Tariq growled. Dropping the plate on the counter with a loud clang, he turned to her, positioning himself between her legs. “Tomorrow, against my better judgment and all of my instincts, we’re going to the docking bays to
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