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“Like what?”

All the fine hairs on my arm prickled. He couldn’t know she worked for Solon.

“The same thing you’re hiding.”

“And that is?” I probed.

“That both of you are fifth-degree black belts in jujitsu.”

Relief washed over me.

“Who told you?”

“I have my sources.”

There was only one person who would threaten the president without fear of consequences. And she was the one who promised retribution for the exhausting night we’d had last night.

“Sam told you. That girl was planning painful ways to make you pay last night.”

Ashur laughed. “Yes. She actually threatened that Neya would literally kick my ass with her mad skills if I left her alone with Papa ever again.”

“Samina and I were thinking along the same lines. But it wasn’t Neya who I envisioned kicking your ass, it was me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Absolutely. Name the time and place.”

He chuckled and I knew the little fun banter had eased whatever tension that was weighing on his shoulders.

“The last thing I plan to do on my honeymoon is fight with my wife. My goal is to fuck her senseless.”

His words brought forth all the dirty, naked fantasies I’d harbored for Ashur over the past fifteen years.

“Umm…okay.” I licked my lips.

Images of him pounding into me flashed in my mind.

Dammit, Tara. You’re supposed to counsel him, not think about fucking him.

I had to get myself on sane ground if I was going to make it through the wedding reception.

“I have an idea.”

“The answer is no.”

“But you haven’t even heard my suggestion.”

“Ashur, I know what you’re thinking, and no, we can’t skip our own wedding.”

“How did you figure those were my thoughts?”

“Because I remember what you were like after we slept together when we were younger. You wanted to skip every gathering, party, or event to get laid. I know you.”

“You’re probably the only person who does.”

His tone had changed back to the worried one.

I guessed it didn’t matter that it was the president’s wedding day—he still had a twenty-four/seven job to do.