London Falling

by Chanel Cleeton

  We weren’t a relationship, we were a ticking time bomb...

  Maggie Carpenter walked away from the hottest encounter of her life when she left the seductive glitz of England for summer break in her South Carolina hometown. Now that she’s returned to the International School in London—and sexy, privileged Samir Khouri is once again close enough to touch—she can’t help but remember the attraction, the drama...the heartbreak.

  She can’t help but want him even more.

  Samir can’t afford to fall for someone so far removed from his world, not when his time in London is running out. It’s his senior year—his last chance at freedom before he returns home to Lebanon. There, he’ll be expected to follow in his father’s footsteps—not follow his heart to Maggie. But when a scorching secret hookup becomes a temptation neither can resist, they’ll both have to fight to survive the consequences...and find a future together.

  Don’t miss this explosive sequel to I See London, and the riveting conclusion to Maggie and Samir’s story. This is a New Adult romance recommended for readers 17 and up.

  LONDON

  FALLING

  Chanel Cleeton

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Acknowledgments

  Teaser Note

  Excerpt

  About the Author

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  Maggie

  I WASN’T LOOKING FOR Samir. At least that’s what I told myself.

  I shouldn’t be looking for Samir.

  “We spent most of the summer in St. Tropez. You should have seen the guys. There was this one guy...” Fleur took a sip of her soda, her brown eyes sparkling. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “He was so fine. You would have died.”

  I flashed her an easy smile, my gaze glued to the door behind her. Classes started tomorrow. Where the hell was he?

  “How was the U.S.?”

  I tore my gaze away from the cafeteria door, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Which I pretty much was, come to think of it.

  “It was fine.” Boring. Frustrating. Agonizing.

  I turned my head to the side. The entrance was just barely visible out of the corner of my eye. Come on. Three more students walked in, laughing and talking about their summer break. My heart sank. One boy was tan, his skin more yellow than the caramel color I’d come to love. Like. Whatever.

  “Are you listening?” Fleur’s voice was impatient, two shades away from pissed off, as she nudged my plate. “You seem like you’re somewhere else.”

  “I heard you,” I lied with ease, turning my body toward the open doorway and glancing at the clock against the wall. The dining hall closed in fifteen minutes. If he was going to make our first family dinner back at school, time was running out.

  I shouldn’t have cared. I should have known better than this. I shouldn’t have been sitting here waiting, my stomach in knots, my nerves frayed. I’d already made it through four months with only two one-line texts from him. What was another day?

  Everything.

  I tore my attention from the empty doorway, the gaping hole taunting me. “Is anyone else joining us?” I asked Fleur, my voice deceptively casual. I couldn’t say his name, but I was desperate to hear it. He was a secret I both wanted to keep and needed to spill.

  I’d spent the whole summer in South Carolina talking about him to my friends back home, until even my best friend, Jo, was sick of hearing about my boy woes. Sadly that was saying a lot, considering how boy-crazy Jo could be.

  “No idea where Mya is. She’s been MIA practically all summer. I think her parents’ divorce is hitting her hard. Michael said something about the two of them going out to dinner with other friends.”

  Mya split her vacation time between her home in Nigeria and her family’s flat in London, where her father worked for the Nigerian Embassy. Last year she’d discovered he was cheating on her mother and apparently over the summer he’d asked for a divorce. Mya was spending most of her time with her mom and not speaking to her dad. She seemed to be handling it pretty well, all things considered. But still—Mya’s priority right now was her family.

  I waited for Fleur to continue, to say the one name that had been flooding my head all summer long. But in classic Fleur fashion, it appeared she was going to make me work for it.

  “And Samir?” I kept my gaze trained on my plate, memorizing the china’s webbed pattern, hoping she hadn’t heard the hitch in my voice.

  Fleur shrugged in that wonderfully French way that reminded me of him. A wave of nostalgia crashed over me. It had been four months, after all.

  “No idea. You know how Samir is, you can’t exactly predict what he’s going to do next.”

  No kidding. Not being able to predict Samir’s moves was exactly what got me into this mess in the first place. Not that I regretted our one night together. I just wished to hell he’d given me more to go on than a text the morning after, followed by a cryptic one in July. Even worse?

  There hadn’t even been a chance for me to casually interact with him online. Trust me to hook up with the one guy who seemed allergic to social media. Maybe it was a Lebanese thing? Or more likely a Samir thing. He wouldn’t deign to do what everyone else did. He was a giant pain in my ass. Too bad I sort of liked it.

  I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, not bothering to resist the urge to smooth down any stray flyaways. My hair was just the tip of the iceberg; brand-new black sandals adorned my feet, their height more aptly suited to a nightclub than a university cafeteria. Relentless workouts at the gym, combined with endless overtime hours, had squeezed my curvy five-four frame into a pair of designer jeans so expensive, I’d been too afraid to eat for fear of spilling. A new black halter top completed the look that an hour ago I thought had screamed “I look good without trying to” but now felt more like “I’m desperate over here.”

  Losing my virginity was making me crazy.

  “Maggie!”

  I jerked my head up. Fleur stared back at me, an annoyed expression on her face.


  “Sorry,” I mumbled, my cheeks heating.

  “What is up with you?” Her tone was a mix of concern and petulance. Classic Fleur.

  For the millionth time, I wanted to tell her. Last semester on my last night in London I lost my virginity to your cousin and I can’t stop thinking about it. Or him. I wanted to confide in Fleur. But if I did, I wasn’t just admitting to a one-night stand. It was so much worse. Yeah, he was still with his girlfriend when it happened. No, I don’t know if they’re still together. No, I don’t know if he likes me. Or if he regrets it. Or if he thinks about that night at all. No, we haven’t talked in one hundred and twenty-four days save for two texts, but who’s counting?

  “I’m sorry, I think I’m just jet-lagged.” That, at least, wasn’t completely a lie. My flight from Charlotte to London had been particularly brutal. I stared back at the clock. Five minutes left.

  Unfuckingbelievable.

  I’d been camped out here for like four hours. No way I’d missed him. Was he avoiding me?

  I sighed, pushing back my chair. I knew when to admit defeat. “I’m going to head up to the room and go to bed.”

  “Can I join you?”

  I froze, my entire body prickling with awareness. I knew that voice, that teasing tone. It had been haunting me for months.

  “Samir!” Fleur jumped up from the table and launched herself at her cousin.

  I turned, time moving in slow motion. Fragmented images and thoughts flew at me. Flashes back to that night—his body pressing into me, his hands molding my curves, his lips devouring mine—mixed with the reality of Samir in the flesh. My gaze ran over his body, drinking in the sight of him.

  He’d cut his hair. The black curls I’d once run my fingers through were shorter now. The skin I’d kissed, tasted on my tongue, was a deeper tan. Whatever he’d done this summer, clearly he’d spent time in the sun. Impossibly, he looked better than I remembered. His shoulders looked broader, his body toned and hard. The memory of his naked flesh, his muscled chest, his abs...

  I flushed.

  Would I always look at Samir and see him naked?

  It was an excellent trick and exquisite torture all rolled into one. Just being here—a foot away from him—was enough to tempt me. I ached to reach out, brush my fingers against his skin, and curl into that warmth.

  And then I heard that voice again—sexy and sultry, the husky tone winding its way through my body, sending a shiver in its wake. I could drown in his voice.

  “Hi, Maggie.”

  Samir

  IT WAS LIKE being punched in the chest. Fuck me.

  She sat there, inches away. All I could do was stare like a man lost in the desert, faced with a mirage. I could smell her perfume; the memory of that subtle scent had been driving me crazy for months. I remembered exactly what it smelled like on her naked body. Remembered kissing every inch of her gorgeous skin, nibbling on her, my tongue tracing patterns across her flesh.

  The rush of arousal hit me like another punch.

  “Samir? Are you paying attention?”

  I jerked my gaze away from Maggie, taking one last look before turning to face my cousin. I slid a smile on my face, struggling to get my body under control. I’d known it would be weird seeing Maggie after...well, after seeing all of her. But this?

  Somehow I’d missed the memo that seeing her under the harsh cafeteria lights, surrounded by the aroma of crappy food and the presence of other students, would make me want to take her back to my room and strip her bare. Hell, at this point a cafeteria table would have worked.

  I wanted to bury myself in her body.

  “Samir.”

  “Give me a minute, Fleur.”

  I needed a moment. A moment of quiet before I had to look back at her. I needed a moment to get my shit under control.

  “I’m tired, Fleur. I just flew in from Beirut. Excuse me if my response time’s a little delayed.”

  Fleur rolled her eyes. “There seems to be a lot of jet lag going around.”

  I looked over at Maggie. Her head was turned, her gaze focused on the plate in front of her, her face partially hidden by the curtain of her brown hair. I remembered all too well having her hair wrapped around my fist, pulling her head back, capturing those lips—

  “Samir. Are you going to sit, or are you just going to stand there staring?”

  “Chill,” I muttered through gritted teeth, sliding into the chair next to Fleur so I could have a perfect, uninterrupted view of Maggie. If only she’d look at me.

  “So how was Lebanon?”

  “Fine.” I needed to get Fleur on another subject fast. Lebanon was the last thing I wanted to talk about right now.

  “How’s your girlfriend?”

  The word “girlfriend” passed so easily from Fleur’s lips, sending a wave of dread through me.

  My head filled with curse words—in English, French and Arabic. That was the beauty of my French and Lebanese heritage—although there was always a part of me that felt caught between two cultures, two worlds, it did give me a wealth of profanity to choose from. I settled for merde.

  I couldn’t look at her now. This wasn’t how I’d imagined this going down. I needed a chance to talk to her—to explain in private, without Fleur and the rest of the damned school listening in.

  But Fleur had said the word I’d been dreading, the word I’d never wanted Maggie to hear from anyone but me. Hell, let’s be real, I would rather have eaten glass than told her what Fleur had casually let slip.

  I didn’t want to look at Maggie. I couldn’t look at Maggie. I owed her an explanation—an apology—so much more than I could give her. Instead I froze, unable to think of anything to save this moment.

  Her head jerked up from the plate, the anger flashing across her face a knife slashing me open. But it was nothing compared to the hurt that followed, clouding her beautiful brown eyes. Shame filled me. Not for the first time, I wished I could go back and undo everything that had happened this summer. I wished things were different. I wished I were different. I’d never been one for regrets. Until now. Until her.

  This girl brought me to my fucking knees.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Maggie

  GIRLFRIEND.

  The word pierced me, knocking the breath out of me. I sat there, staring, watching it play out in front of me. It was one of those moments when my world lurched to a crashing stop.

  I waited. Waited for him to laugh and say he’d broken up with her. Waited for him to look at me. Waited for something—some sign—to let me know I hadn’t been an idiot all summer, lusting after a guy who didn’t even want me. I waited for words that never came. My heart—the one I’d sworn was never engaged—broke a little bit.

  I was such an idiot.

  I’d known there was a possibility this would happen. I’d known it even when I’d gone to bed with him. He’d had a girlfriend then, and there had been no promises, no guarantees. Nothing beyond the way he looked at me, the way he touched me. He’d never given me the words, just the fire and passion that changed everything.

  But the revelation still shattered me.

  I escaped from the cafeteria in a mad dash, mumbling some ridiculous excuse that had Fleur looking at me in surprise and Samir staring down at the floor. He should be staring at the floor. A strangled gasp pushed through the anger. Months. Months since we’d had sex, and not so much as a phone call or an email or a freaking message in a bottle. Just a lame text that had come in the middle of the night in July. Months of me dragging my lazy ass to the gym, eating non-fat yogurt, and hitting the tanning bed every free chance I had.

  When he’d sent me that first text after our night together and I’d read those words—Last night was amazing. We should do it again. Often. See you next year. Xxxx—I’d actually believed it. Our one night together had been amazing. So amazing that four months later I was still reliving it in my thoughts and in my dreams.

  And he was still with his girlfriend.

  How could
he? Did he sleep with his arms curled around her like he had with me? Did he hold her body against his? Did he kiss her lips like he’d kissed mine?

  How could he do what he’d done with me with someone else, when I couldn’t so much as look at another guy?

  I pushed open the door to our room, anger and hurt flooding me, building to a stunning crescendo. I stopped short at the sight of Mya staring at me with a worried expression on her face.

  “You seem upset.”

  “I’ve been better.”

  The three of us were roommates this year—me, Mya and Fleur. I’d felt guilty about leaving our old roommate, Noora, but she’d found an off-campus apartment and seemed happy with her new living arrangement. Moments like these I wished I had a single.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  Mya more than anyone would think I was an idiot for fooling around with Samir. She’d told me from the beginning that he had “bad idea” written all over him. She’d been right—and wrong. Mya hadn’t been there to see how amazing he’d been when we’d lost Fleur in Venice during fall break. Or how kind he’d been the night I’d found out my dad was marrying a complete stranger. She didn’t know Samir could look at you and make you feel like you were the most beautiful girl in the world. Or that he could kiss you like he was drowning and you were his lifeline. She didn’t know he could make you laugh until your sides ached, or make you smile so hard your cheeks hurt.

  It would have been easy to chalk up my night with Samir as a big mistake if he really were the player everyone seemed to think he was. I didn’t blame them for thinking that. I’d seen the girls who fell into his lap at clubs. I wasn’t stupid. The boy had moves—in bed and everywhere else. His rep was well-earned. But he was still more.

  The more was what kept me up at night, reliving our conversations, basking in the memory of our kisses. The more meant I was basically screwed.

  I pushed the golf ball-sized lump out of my throat. I wanted to be alone and yet I didn’t. Sitting in this room, reliving that night with Samir over and over again in my head, would drive me nuts. There were ghosts here. Ghosts in every hallway, every stairway, in the cafeteria and common room. Memories of last year I couldn’t seem to shake off no matter how hard I tried.