love you, my kamana. If I had known that you were the prize I’d get after being captive for centuries, I would’ve endured it thankfully.”
“What does kamana mean?”
“It means ‘the beautiful wish I desire above all others.’”
“Hmm.” I pressed my lips against his neck and inhaled the warm sandalwood scent of him. “Ren?”
“Yes?” He twisted his fingers through my hair.
“I’m sorry I was such an idiot. It’s all my fault. I wasted so much time. Can you forgive me?”
His fingers paused in my hair. “There’s nothing to forgive. I pushed you too fast. I didn’t court you. I didn’t say the right things.”
“No. Believe me. You said all the right things. I just think I wasn’t prepared to hear them or to believe them.”
“I should have known not to rush you. I wasn’t patient enough, and a tiger without patience doesn’t get his dinner.”
I laughed.
“Did you know that I started to have feelings for you before you even knew I was a man? Do you remember when I ran around frantically during a performance at the circus?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were gone. Matt had been talking with his father and had said that one of the new girls had left. I thought they’d meant you. I had to know if you were still there. You didn’t come by my cage that day, and I became distraught, despondent. I couldn’t settle down until I saw you in the audience.”
“Well, I’m here now, and I won’t leave you, Tiger.”
He growled, squeezed me, and teased, “No, you won’t. I won’t ever let you out of my sight again. Now, about all those poems you gave me . . . I think some of those deserve to be studied in great depth.”
“I definitely agree.”
He kissed me again. It was lingering and sweet. His hands cupped my face, and I think my heart actually flipped over in my chest. He pulled back, kissed the sides of my mouth, and sighed deeply. We snuggled together until his time was up.
The next night I cooked a special dinner for Ren. When my mom’s famous stuffed shells were ready, Ren scooped a giant portion onto his plate, speared a shell, and chewed happily.
“This is one of the best things I have ever eaten. In fact, it’s only second to peanut butter, chittaharini.”
“I’m glad you like my mom’s recipe. “Hey, you never told me what chittaharini means.”
He kissed my fingers. “It means—‘one who captivates my mind.’”
“And, iadala?”
“‘Dear one.’”
“How do you say, ‘I love you’?”
“Mujhe tumse pyarhai.”
“How do you say, ‘I’m in love’?”
He laughed. “You can either say, anurakta, which means ‘you are becoming fond of or attached to.’ Or you can say you’re kaamaart, which means ‘you’re a young woman intoxicated with love or love-stricken.’ I prefer the second.”
I smirked. “Yes. I’m sure you’d like to advertise that I’m drunk with love for you. How do you say ‘My boyfriend is handsome’?”
“Mera sakha sundara.”
I dabbed my lips with a napkin and asked if he’d like to help me make dessert. Ren pulled back my chair and followed me into the kitchen. I was ultra-aware of his nearness, especially as he kept finding reasons to touch me. As he put away the sugar, he stroked my arm. When he reached around me to set the vanilla on the counter, he nuzzled my neck. It got to the point where I started to drop things.
“Ren, you’re driving me to distraction. Give me a little space so I can finish making the dough.”
He did, but stayed close enough that I had to brush up against him when I put away ingredients. I shaped the cookies, dropped them onto the pan, and announced, “We now have fifteen minutes until they’re done.”
He grabbed my arm and yanked me up against him. The next thing I knew, the timer went off and I jumped. Somehow, I’d ended up on the kitchen counter locked in a passionate embrace. One of my hands was in his hair; his silky locks were twisted around my fingers while my other hand had apparently grabbed a fistful of designer shirt and was slowly mangling it. His freshly pressed shirt was now crumpled terribly. Mortified, I released my unruly grip and stammered, “Sorry about your shirt.”
He snatched my hand back, pressed a kiss on my palm, and smiled wickedly. “I’m not.”
I shoved him away and hopped down. Pushing my finger against his chest, I said, “You’re dangerous, pal.”
He grinned. “It’s not my fault that you’re intoxicated by me.”