Page 27 of The Baker’s Shadow

“Clearly.”

I press closer. Feel the hard length of him against my hip. Feel the way his whole body is trembling with restraint.

“Don’t hold back,” I whisper.

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” I guide his hand back to my stomach. “Feel that? It’s strong. It’s not fragile. And neither am I.”

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice rough. “Say it clearly. I need to hear you say it.”

The request grounds me. Makes this real and deliberate instead of something happening to us.

“I want you inside me,” I say, meeting his eyes. “I want all of you. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing you.”

His eyes search mine for any hesitation. “If anything hurts, if you need me to stop⁠—”

“I’ll tell you. I promise.” I cup his face with both hands. “But I won’t need you to stop. This is what I want.”

He stares at me for a long moment. Then slowly, carefully, he rolls me onto my back. Leans over me. His weight is there but not crushing, supported on his forearms.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he says.

“I will.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

His mouth finds mine again. Softer this time. Searching. His hand slides beneath my dress, palm flat against my ribs, and the warmth that floods through me isn’t just physical. It’s deeper. Like he’s pouring himself into me, filling every hollow space with light.

The hunger quiets completely.

His mouth traces down my jaw. Across my collarbone. Every touch sends warmth spreading deeper, and I arch into it, desperate for more.

“Malak,” I breathe.

He lifts his head. Looks at me with those impossible eyes. “Yes?”

“I’m not broken.”

“I know.”

“I’m not dying.”

“I know that too.”

“I’m changing.” The word settles into my chest. Heavy. True. “Into something new.”

“Yes.”