I sat in front of the vanity table, drawing a winged line on my eyelids. My fingers uncapped the mascara bottle, coating my lashes with the black coloring. I pouted my lips as I added the red tint to them, further accentuating my natural features. I pulled away from the mirror and examined myself. Not bad, I thought.

The pink dress fell down my hips and legs in an elegant way. The sleeves touched to my wrists, small white gems swirling around my arms. The neckline on the dress was deep, but my light pink hijab covered it, making sure no cleavage or skin was on display. I picked up the long veil and placed it on the crown of my head, using a diamond headpiece to keep it in place. Standing up, I moved further away from the mirror.

Perfect.

Today was our Walima. Usually, most Muslim couples had their Walima right after the Nikkah, but Ibrahim was quite busy. He had just finished the final remodeling structure for his hotels and landed a business contract with an Arab business in Dubai. He wasn't home most days and I would only see him at night when he picked me up from my parent's café. By the time we would come home, Ibrahim would be too tired to do anything else.

I felt saddened by his absence. After our heartfelt moment that night, our relationship was slightly different. We still slept separately because Ibrahim still needed to get used to the idea of a wife. I promised that I would wait for him even if it took years, I would still be patient. Time was something Ibrahim was never given enough of.

Knock Knock.

"Come in!" I yelled.

Mom and Ibrahim's grandmother walked in, followed by Kanza and Amira. Mom walked over to my side, adjusting the gold bracelet Ibrahim bought me onto my wrists. Her slender fingers brushed against my henna stained hands. Ibrahim's grandmother added another set of bracelets onto my other wrist, which were connected to a ring on my finger.

"There, you look even more beautiful than you did on your wedding day," smiled his grandmother.

"Thank you," I said as I averted my gaze away from her.

Amira nudged my shoulder with hers. "Don't be so shy," she laughed.

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled. "If I remember correctly, you were pretty nervous on your wedding day," I gave her a sly grin.

Amira scoffed, "I had good reason to be bashful."

Kanza rolled her eyes. "You married girls are such a pain," she grumbled.

Amira gave her a knowing glance. "So there isn't anyone you would potentially marry then?" she asked.

"Boys are disgusting. I don't even know how you two managed to snatch two guys for your own," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Your choices of words are certainly colorful," I cringed.

The girls laughed and I found myself joining them. Although it was a joyous occasion, without having my friends and family here, it wouldn't be complete. Laughing with my friends made me feel some ease in my heart that despite all my worries and struggles I still had a support circle of people who loved me. In my opinion, that was the greatest blessing Allah could have ever given me.

A couple of faint knocks on the door had us all turn towards it. Amira glanced at me with a questioning look while I just shrugged. I had no idea who was at the door. Regardless, Amira walked over and twisted the knob, hearing a low male voice behind. Nodding her head, she gestured to the rest of the girls.

"Ibrahim wants to talk to Tasneem alone," she announced.

"Why can't we stay-" started Kanza before she was dragged away by Amira. "Hey!" she exclaimed.

"Come on, I know you hate the opposite gender, but leave the lovebirds alone," said Amira.

Mom and Ibrahim's grandmother chuckled at the girls' antics. Turning to me, Ibrahim's grandmother pulled me into her warm embrace. At first, I was stunned by the sudden show of affection. I hesitantly wrapped my arms around her frail frame, feeling comfort from her soothing voice.

"You're the perfect wife for my grandson," she whispered as she pulled away.

I gave her a nervous smile, letting her know that I was grateful for her words. With one last nod in my direction, Mom escorted Ibrahim's grandmother to the ballroom with the rest of the guests, leaving me alone in the small room and impatiently waiting for Ibrahim to emerge from behind the closed doors.

After the last person left, the door slowly creaked open. I stood still, not moving a single inch of my body as the tall figure emerged from the shadows of the room. His eyes immediately meet mine, his pupils dilating. His dark brown eyes had me hypnotised by the emotions that swirled through them.

He took slow deliberate steps towards me. Each step he took made my heart beat faster in anticipation for him. Each ragged breath I heard made me lose my train of thought. His scent overwhelmed my senses, making me feel light headed. His typical suit and tie attire had my fingers itching to travel the hard planes of his chest.

Finally, he was in front of me. I kept my gaze on his chest, refusing to look into his hooded eyes. I knew that if I looked into his dark brown eyes, I would lose all sense of my sanity.

We had guests waiting for us, we couldn't do anything here. It was not the time nor the place for such scandalous thoughts. However, my mind would not stop replaying the images of all those times when we were alone together.

Ibrahim's hands grasped my hips, pulling me right against his hard body. He dipped his head low, his breath hot against my pink hijab. My heart was drumming against my chest and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

"It's taking everything in me right now to not kiss you," he whispered.

My hands found their way to his chest, moving to his broad shoulders as I gripped them tightly. I bit my lip, feeling my body ignite from his touch. My mind was buzzing, but it didn't matter. I wanted to feel his lips on mine, but I couldn't. Ibrahim noticed the small action of my lips. His breathing started to waver.

"Tasneem," he growled out as he buried his face into the crook of my cloth covered neck. "Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" I asked, my voice sounded different, sultry even.

His grip tightened as he inhaled a shaky breath. "Stop torturing me with your innocence," he murmured. "There's so much I want to do to you. I can't... control myself with all your teasing," he managed to get out in a rushed breath.

The thought of teasing him excited me. "So," I drawled out, "don't control yourself."

He deeply chuckled, "If only it were that easy."

I felt him start to pull away, but my fingers were fast enough to react. I gripped his white dress shirt, clutching the cloth tightly into my palms. Surprised by my actions, Ibrahim raised a brow at me.

"I never asked for your control," I said slowly, watching his facial features contort in disbelief.

"You can't be serious," he stated as he attempted to push me away.

I nodded my head, walking closer to him, my fingers trailed down his shoulders to his muscular chest in a tantalizing way. My touch was feather light, which earned me a tortured groan from Ibrahim. He squeezed his eyes shut like he was trying to control himself. I felt his bulge against me, pressing harder as Ibrahim plastered his body against my own.

I let out a soft gasp, his eyes flew open. Desire blossomed deep into those dark orbs of his, pinning me with his intense gaze. His hands trailed up my waist, brushing against the side of my body. I was suddenly very aware of my heaving breaths and the rise and fall of my chest as I tried to control myself.

"You don't want control?" he purred seductively into my ear causing goosebumps to appear on my arm.

His voice was so deep and silky. It ripped through all the mental sanity and restraint I had left. His words melted right through me. Ibrahim's strong scent was overtaking my senses and I only became aware of him. I shook my head at his question, feeling him smirk against my hijab.

"Tasneem," he rasped out against my cheek. "Tell me to kiss you."

I opened my mouth to speak, but I felt the cold air touch my neck as Ibrahim moved the pink scarf away, exposing the bare flesh to him. His teeth lightly grazed the junction between my neck and shoulder. I gripped his shoulder tightly, biting my lip to stop any sort of embarrassing sound.

A soft moan escaped my lips when I felt his teasing bites on my neck. His lips left wet sizzling kisses up my neck, his tongue lapping at the skin beneath. My body buzzed in desire. My mind was hazy.

"Tasneem," he murmured as he teasingly nipped at my jaw. "Say it." His voice was husky, alerting me of his arousal.

Swallowing the knot that was at my throat, I said in a breathless whisper, "Kiss me, Ibrahim."

All sense and reasoning left as soon as our lips made contact. He captured my lips in a rough kiss, biting down on my lower lip. Closing my eyes, I gasped at the slight sting I felt, but it was enough time for Ibrahim to slide his tongue into the warm haven of my mouth.

His hot tongue brushed against my own, his hands traveling lower until they were right under my backside. He pressed his throbbing erection against my lower region, which was burning in desire and need for him.

My fingers found their way to his hair, tangling themselves into his locks of black hair. I gently tugged at them, earning me a low groan from Ibrahim. Oh God that was hot, I thought. I wanted more from him, more of his kisses, more of his touches, more of his love.

He detached his lips from mine, placing his forehead against my own. His breathing was heavy and I felt one of his hands touch my cheek. I slowly opened my eyes after I took in a couple of breaths to relax my beating heart. My cheeks felt hot, almost burning when I realized what we had just done.

"Oh my Lord," I whispered in shock.

Ibrahim chuckled, "That was the best first kiss that ever existed."

I smiled. His lips were swollen and smudged with lipstick. My smile dropped as I realized that he ruined my makeup. Breaking away from him, I quickly went to the mirror, searching for makeup removal wipes. I could feel Ibrahim burning gaze on my back, but I refused to acknowledge it.

"I can't find it," I said, looking frantically for anything to remove the evidence of our heated kiss.

"What?"

"My makeup wipes."

"What about them?"

"Ibrahim!" I exclaimed, flustered. "You literally have lipstick smudges all over your lips. Oh God," I muttered to myself.

Ibrahim walked over to the vanity table, picking up a napkin and uncapping a water bottle. He drenched the napkin into the cool liquid, wetting it before leaning forward.

I watched as he rubbed at the skin around his tempting lips. Once he was done, he tossed the napkin into the trash bin. He ran his fingers through his thick black hair, tousling it to the side. When he was satisfied with his look, he turned to me.

"See it's not that bad," he pointed out.

I scoffed, "You don't have that much to fix. You ruined my hard work!"

He rolled his eyes, picking up another napkin and repeating the same method. He bent down so we were eye level with each other, his gaze was soft as he gently touched my lips with the wet napkin. I parted my lips, curiously staring at him. The cool feeling was welcomed on my burning skin. Once he wiped the residue off, he handed my lipstick to me.

"Here," he said.

I took the small container from his hands.

"I'll wait for you outside the door. We're walking in together," he stated, walking away.

"Wait-"

The door slammed shut, and I was left slightly frustrated and red. How did he have this type of an effect on me? I sighed as I turned back to the mirror. I'll worry about him later. Right now, we had a party in our honor to get to.

Send me the link to your books, I want to read them.

*Googles how to make myself disappear.*