by Donna Alam
I can see Kai from where I stand, his body angled away from the entrance, seated at an intimate table set for two. Dark jeans cover his legs and French cuffs peek from the sleeves of a dark suit jacket. I take a moment to just watch him, revel in his perfection while listening to the song that reflects the expression on his face. Eyes unseeing, he toys with the glass in front of him, thumb and forefinger laced around its sides. With a light touch, he slides them to the base and back again, disturbing beads of moisture glistening on the cool glass. A voyeur, I stand weighted to the spot.
Then, as though sensing the weight of my gaze, his head lifts slowly, countenance lightening, a smile breaking through like the sun after a storm. My own lips curl in response and my heart rate staccatos. Remembering to move, I approach him on perilous heels and unsteady legs.
As he stands to greet me, his hands find the curve of my hips. Lips graze my cheeks, soft and familiar, before he pulls me against him like we’re the only people in the room. In his arms, I’m surrounded by the scent of him; his spiced cologne, undercut by his unique man smell.
‘I thought you were having second thoughts,’ he murmurs into my hair.
‘I was just enjoying the view.’ Laughing softly, he releases me to pull out my chair. ‘You look lovely,’ I murmur, belatedly realising I sound like my nanna.
‘Spunky?’
One eyebrow curls in question and I know exactly what he’s referring to, and it’s not how good he looks. And of course, I blush as I imagine the stuff pulsing out of him.
‘H—Have you been waiting long?’
‘You were worth waiting for.’
Expecting the punchline, my head rises, my breath catching, warmed by the sincerity in his eyes. He stares at me for a long, thoughtful moment as though calculating the effect of his words. And the effects, what of those? I lower my gaze to my hands; I thought we were heading down that well-worn path of innuendo and smut. I’m unprepared for honesty. Least of all mine. He doesn’t need to know how his words bloom inside.
He wants me. Wants more? I want all, I fear.
‘Habibti, look at me.’
‘Mr. Khalfan, how wonderful to see you again.’
A leggy blonde—the waitress—lays a hand on Kai’s shoulder, flashing him a mega-watt smile. As greetings go, this one is about as familiar as humping his thigh. She leans across him to deposit the menu, cleavage front, centre and obvious. Meanwhile, I don’t even warrant service with a scowl.
‘Saskia, a bottle of the Torbeck Runrig, 2004, if you please.’
Kai’s tone is cool, their eyes briefly meeting as he places the wine menu back into her hands. Clearly, this wasn’t the response she’d anticipated as she lifts it in an uncomfortable motion, smile now awkward and slipping from her heavily made-up face.
‘Looks like you wouldn’t have had to wait long,’ I say tartly as she leaves. It sounds arsey and I wish I could swallow it back, immediately. Instead, I add, ‘Another friend of yours?’
‘There are certainly lots of kinds of friendship.’ The corners of his mouth twitch; amusement or tension? I can’t tell which. ‘And I’ve dined here many times before.’
Although I’m certain theirs wasn’t a particularly emotional connection, I decide there was no innuendo intended in his response. Plus, is it any of my business where . . . he eats?
I need to remember to be real about this.
Saskia returns almost immediately, offering the wine for Kai’s approval, pouring thimblefuls into massive fish-bowls on stems at his assent. I make a point of asking her to top up my glass. Petty, I know, but she shouldn’t have ignored me, should she? As she leaves, I bury my nose in the glass, unable to stop myself from wondering where—and by that I mean who—else he eats. Because I know he tips very well. Drowning my speculation with a large gulp, my mouth is instantly filled with the taste of fruit, and chocolate? Yep, chocolate and fruity and velvety and so much more refined than the Chateau d’ Cardboard sitting in my apartment.
I bet Kai would be horrified. Wine in a box?
‘You know, I’m only interested in you.’
He stares at me intently and that sincere look in his eyes is back again. I attempt to lower the volume of my consciousness and un-wad my figuratively bunched knickers. My actual butt-less knickers are very comfortable, surprisingly.
‘That’s much better.’ His smile mirrors my own, only his is lazier, languid almost. ‘I like it much better when you look at me.’ I like looking at him, too, but it causes me all kinds of incoherency and squirming. ‘And I like it even more when you look at me and blush.’
‘Can’t help it,’ I mumble, my gaze sliding away. ‘It’s beyond my control.’ Like anyone would choose this reaction on a voluntary basis. ‘I thought the novelty would’ve worn off this blushing business by now.’
‘Not for me,’ he says, angling his head to one side. ‘I love that you blush. It’s almost a look inside your head. Helps me guess what you’re thinking about. I love that you get angry, too.’ Then he smirks.
Hello, crazy jealous lady of my dreams with the bright red face. A dream date right there.
‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not ready to pull out her hair extensions. Yet.’
A deep, rumbling chuckle moves his chest, his eyes never moving from mine. I can’t think of anything coherent to add because watching him watch me is slightly thrilling. In the absence of words, I pick up my menu to hide behind and with a blithe sweep of my free hand, grasp the comically large glass.
‘Hard day at the chalk face?’ Propping his elbows against the arms of the chair, he steeples the tips of his fingers under his chin. ‘Have the little darlings driven you to drink already?’
‘Stress drinking? Nope, I only resort to that after talking to my mum.’
‘You don’t get along with your mother?’
Damn. ‘Let’s just say if the Pope had to take a call from my mum, he’d be breaking out the sacramental juice, too.’ His expression is one of enquiry. I answer it in a sing-song voice. ‘Subject closed!’
‘Then, to parents.’ He raises his glass. ‘More than kin, sometimes less than kind.’ Placing his glass back, he leans toward me, sliding his hand between the small of my back and the chair. ‘What did the lady think of my gifts?’
I bite my tongue against agreeing he is pretty well endowed, when his hand dips lower, seeking the bow at the back of my peculiar panties.
‘The lady loves the shoes,’ I answer wiggling away from his hand. Twisting in the chair, I hold out my leg for him to admire a stylishly shod foot. His eyes are appraising as they travel from my toes up, finally settling on my face.
‘I’m pleased you approve.’
‘You have pretty good taste. In shoes, I mean.’
‘I have good taste in a good many things,’ he purrs. ‘Feeling exposed? Entirely . . . wrapped up?’
‘Puntastic!’ I giggle. ‘You just keep on speculating, there’s no way you can tell if I’ve got your tie-me-up undies on.’
‘You have.’ He laughs in a gravelly tone. ‘Though the idea was much less about bondage and more about the reveal, either works for me.’
My stomach flips instinctually, clenching commencing a little further south. I bring the glass to my mouth.
‘You approve?’ he asks, gesturing to the glass.
I nod. ‘Yeah, so good. I love red wine but I don’t think it likes me too much,’ I prattle, still feeling the weight of his shining gaze. ‘It gives me a blinding headache sometimes.’
‘You know, the key is not to drink too much.’
‘I don’t. Often. And rarely on school nights.’ I tilt the glass in one hand, with the other I hold up three fingers, Girl Scout style. ‘Two glass limit.’ I stare at my mixed-messaging fingers. ‘Well, sometimes three.’
‘Why, is there something prohibitive in your employment contract?’
‘There should be. A hangover and a full classroom is a nightmare combination. You can’t go for a lie down in the cupboard.�
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‘As I said, it’s all in the consumption.’
‘No worries, I’ll be tucked up in bed nice and early.’
‘Of that I have high hopes.’ Something hot, wet and carnal instantly fills my veins, a tiny explosion of sensation spreading through my core. ‘Are there sanctions on dancing weeknights, too?’ He stands, pushing back his chair and holding out his hand. ‘Dance with me.’
My gaze flicks nervously around the room. ‘But there’s no one else dancing.’ Did I mention I can’t dance? Not to him, obviously.
‘I’m not interested in dancing with anyone else.’
He smiles seductively, curling his fingers in a tempting come hither motion until there’s nothing else I can do, but place my hand in his. As he leads me to the small, wooden square denoting dancing, dread wells under my diaphragm. The space is so tiny, I’m not even sure it is a dance floor, plus there’s nowhere to hide because there’s no one else dancing.
Wrapping an arm around my waist, Kai pulls me close, so I drape my hands in the appropriate places, trying to recall steps from long ago high school senior dance classes.
‘Relax,’ he murmurs as the lyrics to All of Me float into the air.
My body falls seamlessly into rhythm with his, almost like we’ve done this before. As we move, I feel tiny in his arms, cosseted almost. I catch a glimpse of our reflections in a darkened mirror; the graceful curve of his cheekbone, the hair falling over my shoulder in soft waves. The illusion is a couple with history, not just partners for the night.
‘Stay with me,’ he whispers into my hair.
‘I can’t. I have work early and I don’t have my things.’
My mumbled excuses sound hollow against his chest. While his invitation was for dinner, the underwear may have been an invitation I tried to ignore. But doesn’t turning up with an overnight bag and a toothbrush scream presumption? Or slut? Or has that boat already left the dock?
‘I’ll take care of that.’ He dips me slightly and my hair falls from my shoulder, suspended for a moment in the air. ‘And I’ll take you to work in the morning myself.’
Kissing my hand, the song ends as a ripple of applause sounds from nearby tables—bloody voyeurs—but I’m too stunned to mind.
‘You’ll drop me to work?’ I pull at his hand as he leads me back to our table. ‘The tom-toms would go into overdrive! You know I work at the girls’ school, right? And that it’s full of women? I think I’ll pass being labelled the Whore of Babylon. Or the bitch banging the boss, thanks.’
Ever the gentleman, he pulls out my chair, laughing not quite so gallantly. I drop into my seat and he kisses the crown of my head.
‘Careful, you’ll have your feminist membership revoked.’
‘Pretty sure it’d be revoked on the grounds of my wearing these undies,’ I mumble, pulling my dress over my knees.
‘I knew it,’ he says with a sudden grin.
Crap. ‘Doesn’t mean—’
Kai shakes his head in a mockingly stern of course not motion. ‘You know, Babylon was said to be in, what is now, modern day Iraq. Not the UAE. And don’t worry, we can take the town car, travel anonymously. It would look as though you’ve taken a cab.’
Not the cabs I’ve been using. I somehow doubt his town car is a beige Toyota Corolla, circa 2005. I also doubt the back window’s decorated with enough stuffed animals to shame a paedophile.
He takes my hand from the table, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. ‘And as for banging the boss, please stop thinking in those terms. I’ve told you I have little to do with the school.’
‘Other than being the owner’s son?’ I extricate my hand to reach for my glass.
He suddenly closes the small physical space between us, leaning into me. I have an insane urge to reach out, draw him the rest of the way, mash my lips against his.
‘Stay with me.’ His voice is soft and throaty and he’s so close that I can almost feel the stubble on his face.
Who am I kidding? I came dressed in his underwear, would I really go home without letting him get me out of them?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pulling me into his arms, Kai presses the door closed with his heel.
‘You’re shivering, are you cold?’
‘A little,’ I lie, aiming for a tone of confidence as he tightens his arms.
But what I am actually is on edge. The tone of the evening has been warm and Kai has been charming and I’ve felt relaxed, mostly. But with the smallest of movements, the tiniest shift in my chair, I’ve been reminded of my esoteric undies and along with them, the contents of the box. The man has plans and that has me worried. I’m shocked and perturbed to find I get a bit of a kick out of this. To see the heat and fire in his eyes, to know that he’s spent time thinking of me, planning for our evening, is intensely erotic and at the same time, a little bit mad.
Releasing me, he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto a chair before shucking off what look suspiciously like a pair of Prada oxfords. He saunters back to where I still stand, with such grace and confidence that I’ll admit to a bit of jealousy of his ease. But the devil on my shoulder points out he has reason to be confident: I’m wearing his knickers and I’m back in his room.
All thought dissolves as he places a hand at the base of my spine, pulling my hips into his body.
‘I’ve thought of nothing else all day,’ he murmurs, sliding his lips against mine. Breaking away, he silently takes my hand, unexpectedly twirling me across the floor. I’m dizzy, but not from the twirling. I feel breathless, lightheaded with anticipation. Graceful under his hand.
‘You just want to see me in your fancy undies.’ Back in his arms, longing whispers across my skin.
‘Amongst other things.’
He slides the wide neck of my dress across my shoulders and slowly down my arms. It drifts to the floor in an echo of a previous encounter, evoking memories of my very first visit to this room.
‘And while it’s a shame to disturb such fine looking wrappings, I happen to know the contents of this package are extraordinary.’
His finger runs over the soft swell of my breast, a blooming sensation following in its wake. I can feel his every muscle twitch and flex as he wraps his arms around me, pressing me to him, his hands cupping my arse.
‘It’s taking every ounce of restraint I have not to rip it all off and fuck you on the floor.’
I can’t manage a response. I just stare at him, blinking rapidly as I imagine just that. Before Kai, I wouldn’t have believed words alone could make you hot, but his words unhinge me a little. Make me throb.
Turning, he leads me to a large, gilt-framed mirror leaning against the far wall. Placed in front is a low velvet chair. I recognise the chair from my first visit, though it wasn’t in this room then, and I recall the image of Kai seated there with a casual insouciance. How quickly I’ve come from that one act of daring. I wanted to be someone else, now look at me. Wild, hot and reckless, decked out in some guy’s fantasy undies, dizzy with need.
From behind me, his hand drifts up my torso, coming to rest at the base of my throat. My pulse quickens at the sight of his large, strong hand cradling my paler, fragile neck. As I swallow beneath his fingers, his eyes darken and his hand flexes just a little bit. Neither of us speak but watches the other’s reflection, both of us immersed in the sense of my breath under his hand.
‘All wrapped up,’ he murmurs, brushing his hand down my chest to tease the satin-bows masquerading as a bra. My nipples harden under the softness of the fabric, aching for his touch. ‘Only one place to go.’ He tugs the ties which loosen effortlessly, my breasts springing eagerly free. Hands cup and caress as his mouth finds my ear.
‘This is what I’ve been thinking about. I’m going to unwrap you like the prize you are. Unravel you further still.’ I exhale libidinously, my body settling against his as I raise my hands to his hair. ‘No touching.’ Hands circle my wrists, lowering them against his thighs. ‘Not for you, sweetheart, beca
use I’m going to bind you. Make you desperate to be fucked.’
His words penetrate my stupor with a sudden kick of lust to my gut. Having prepared myself for an evening of firsts—the underwear, the shoes—the theory and the practical are suddenly poles apart. I resist the urge to pull my wrists from his hands with every ounce of my strength.
‘Trust me,’ he coaxes, as though sensing my unease. ‘Trust me to take care of you.’
I take in our reflections, my beautifully crafted underwear, Kai’s heated and smouldering gaze. Aren’t I already bound, wrapped in satin and heels? The answer brings forth a mixture of absolute thrill and disgrace, sensations I’m coming to associate with Kai, as my head and body contradict the other.
‘Let me show you what you need.’
My trepidation liquefies, heat coursing through me, burning his words on my skin. A slow smile forms on his beautiful mouth before it disappears behind me as he crouches down. His hands stroke my back and trail my behind, his mouth kissing each cheek in turn. Kisses turn to grazing, teeth to sucking bites, before he slowly loosens the satin bow across my arse. Standing once more, he leans toward my ear.
‘Spread your legs.’ His instruction is low and gravelly, his arm snaking around my waist to steady me as I move my feet apart. The cadence of his voice changes, becoming more strident as he presses his knee between my thighs. ‘Further. Wider still.’
I move again, his fingers instantly between my legs. My breath catches with surprise, transforming into a shuddering sigh as his hand presses firmly at the apex of my thighs. My body liquefies and I moan at the intimate contact, pressing myself against his hand. Unable to watch my wanton reflection, I close my eyes.
‘Wet,’ he whispers, his fingers curling and dipping inside. ‘Warm . . . and wanting.’ His words are delivered slowly; drawn out, each one echoing between my legs. I whimper an appreciative response, my body doing all of my talking right now. ‘I love that you feel like this, for me.’
