The world outside Afiya’s bedroom door felt suddenly sharp and bright. Saad walked a step behind her, his mind a chaotic whirlpool. The image of her without her dupatta, her hair loose, her face flushed and vulnerable, was seared into his memory. His gaze, almost against his will, dropped to the sway of her hips and ass beneath her salwar. Each step she took sent a hypnotic rhythm through the fabric, a motion that was both innocent and profoundly sensual. But his thoughts kept circling back to the mark on her neck—a red, distinct, almost perfect oval with faint, bruising edges. It looked like a bite. A human bite. He shook his head, trying to dismiss it. Mosquito bite. Has to be.

He was so lost in this internal conflict that he didn’t notice Afiya had stopped at the entrance to the living room. He walked right into her from behind.