This seemed to be a common thread with the international elite. Their ties were tenuous and yet they all greeted each other as though they were the best of friends. Fleur slipped into the scene with ease, but she wasn’t totally herself. Her smile was brighter, her laugh louder than usual, and she just seemed more on than normal, as if she were trying to convince everyone she was having more fun than she really was.
“You seem a little off tonight,” I commented as we grabbed a drink from the bar. We’d lost Mya to some old friends from boarding school. It was good to see her so happy after everything going on with her parents.
“I guess I wasn’t as in the mood for a party as I thought I was,” Fleur answered, her gaze surveying the crowd. She was restless tonight, a bundle of nervous energy.
“We can leave if you want.” I sipped a glass of champagne. “Preferably before I get hypothermia.”
“I’m okay. Ignore me. I’m just in a weird mood tonight.” She grinned. “Sorry about the dress.”
“Eh. If I were going to get hypothermia, this would be the dress that would make it all worthwhile.”
I turned away from Fleur and stared out at the marina, at the vast expanse of lights. I felt like I was living someone else’s life. Would I always feel this way? No matter how much time I spent in London, there was always a part of me that felt like I was playing dress-up. As strange as that feeling was, I couldn’t help but think maybe it was a good thing. I wasn’t entirely ready for this world to suck me in.
“You aren’t having fun.” I nudged Fleur. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know. It’s always the same old parties, the same people, the same everything. It’s like my life is on a constant loop.” She shrugged. “That seems stupid, right?”
“Not at all. You’ve been through a lot. It makes sense that you would come out of it a bit changed. Now you’re dealing with this shit with Costa and that email. It’s a lot for anyone to have to deal with. But you know if you ever need to talk, I’m always here.”
“Thanks.”
Mya walked toward us, a smile on her face. “I’ve been looking for you. Have you guys danced yet? The DJ is amazing.”
“I don’t think either one of us is in a huge dancing mood,” Fleur answered. She grinned. “But I did notice James Duncan’s here.”
“Seriously?”
“Who is James Duncan?”
“The older brother of a girl we went to boarding school with. Very cute. And if I’m not mistaken, there were some rumors he and Mya once shared a very hot and heavy kiss.”
“Go, Mya.”
“It was like five years ago. But the kiss was pretty amazing.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe I should go re-introduce myself.”
“Definitely.”
I raised my champagne flute. “To old flames.”
Mya’s glass clinked with mine. “Wish me luck.”
We both watched her walk away, disappearing into the sea of dancers. I turned my back to the crowd, facing away from Fleur, staring out at the water. My thoughts drifted to the one person who always seemed to occupy my mind. I missed him. Wished he were here with me, his arms wrapped around me, his fingers linked with mine. I wanted to talk with him, to laugh with him.
I pulled out my phone, staring down at the screen.
No new messages.
I wanted to text him. I didn’t even know what I wanted to say anymore. His absence was an ache inside me. I tried to ignore the pang in my chest, tried to tell myself I didn’t care. I failed miserably.
These were the moments when I hated his girlfriend the most, the moments when I felt the weakest, when my resolve wavered. Because I wanted him—and not just at night. Not just in those moments when we fell into bed together. I wanted to walk into parties on his arm. To stare at the stars with him, as corny as it sounded. I wanted more than I had.
I wanted it all.
Fleur turned to me, a wide smile on her face. She lifted her champagne flute in the air, clinking it with mine. “Here’s to new flames.” She put her arms around me, pulling me into a hug. “I told him if he hurt you, I’d kill him. I still think you deserve better, but if he makes you happy then that’s what I want for you. Give him a chance to explain.” She stepped back and winked at me. “And tell me all of the hot details later.”
She walked away, gliding through the crowd. I stared after her, confusion filling me.
My phone beeped. I looked down at the screen again, my heart pounding at the sight of his name there—
Turn around.
What? I reread the words, once, twice, as my heartbeat kicked up a notch. And then I turned.
Samir stood in front of me, close enough that I could have touched him. He was dressed in a white shirt, a black jacket, and a pair of dark jeans. He clutched a bouquet of pink peonies in his hand.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. My brain fired rapid thoughts—What had Fleur meant? What was he doing in Spain? Were those flowers really for me?—but all I could do was stand there and stare. All around us, people talked and laughed, music blaring from the DJ booth. It all faded away. All that mattered was me and Samir. All that mattered was the look in his eyes.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between us, holding out the bouquet.
I took the flowers from him, speech still eluding me. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
He reached out, his fingers running through my hair, catching a stray strand and tucking it behind my ear.
And then he was kissing me and I knew everything had changed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Samir
I’D INTENDED TO wait before kissing her. Before putting my hands on her, really. But then I saw her standing there, the stars behind her, wearing a dress I wanted to peel off her body, and I literally couldn’t stop myself.
I had to kiss her.
The second my lips touched hers, I felt the same click I always felt. We’d kissed enough that there was a familiarity there now. I knew the shape of her mouth, the taste of her lips. Yet each time, I felt as if I were wading deeper and deeper into uncharted territory, discovering a new part of her.
Kissing her felt like drowning, the waves crashing over me, pulling me under. I was losing control, inch by inch. Forgetting myself, where we were, anything, everything but the feel of her mouth on mine, the feel of her body—her bare skin, beneath my hands, in my arms, everywhere.
She broke away first—
“What was that? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Lebanon?” Her voice was breathless, her lips swollen from the kiss. It just made me want to kiss her more.
I’d never been a big kisser. For me, kissing was just a prelude to sex. But with Maggie—everything was different with Maggie.
“I was in Lebanon. Fleur told me you were here. So now I’m here.”
“Why?”
It was ridiculous that this made me nervous, but it did. It was all or nothing.
“I can’t stay away from you. I was an idiot to let you leave my bed that morning. I want a chance to start over. To really start over. I want to be with you.”
She studied me for a moment, not speaking. The wind whipped around her, her brown hair flowing over her shoulders. I would never really understand what it was about her that took my breath away. She was beautiful, but I’d known beautiful girls before. There was something about her—in that wide goofy smile, in those sparkling eyes—that easily made her the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
“What about your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have a girlfriend anymore.” I tried out a smile, my heart racing. “For the moment, at least. Maybe you’d be willing to help me with that?”
She looked down at the ground for a moment before facing me again. A small smile played at her lips, teasing out the dimple I loved.
“Maybe.”
That word—and the smile that came with it—felt like everything.
“Let’s get out of her
e, okay? I got a room at your hotel. We can go talk. And figure out what happens next.”
I held out my hand to her. She hesitated for a moment—and then she reached out, linking her fingers with mine.
It felt right.
Maggie
I HAD TO be dreaming. That was the only explanation. Samir couldn’t really be here, holding my hand, looking at me like I was his world.
I followed him through the party, my hand in his. Every once in a while, he would stop and respond to someone he knew. Each time he stopped, he draped his arm around me, holding me against his side. It was like he was afraid if he let me loose, even for a minute, I’d disappear. I knew the feeling.
Minutes later, we’d finally made it off of the yacht.
“You okay to walk? Are you cold?”
“A little bit.” I gestured at my dress. “I borrowed it from Fleur. There’s not exactly a lot of fabric going on here.”
“I can see that.” His lips grazed my ear, his voice growing huskier. “I’m kind of hoping I can take it off of you later.”
I flushed.
He removed his jacket and slipped it around my shoulders. I burrowed into its warmth, loving the faint scent of his cologne surrounding me.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “It’s been a long week.”
“I missed you, too.”
I barely paid attention the rest of the way back to the hotel. I didn’t notice our surroundings or the people walking down the street around us. All I knew was I was with Samir. And somehow—miraculously—he didn’t have a girlfriend anymore.
We walked into the hotel, heading for the elevator. I followed Samir inside, leaning back against the wall while he pressed the button. I needed a moment to catch my breath, to wrap my head around how much my life had changed in less than an hour. The doors closed and he turned to face me.
His gaze ran over my body, and warmth spread through me as he looked his fill. He walked toward me, leaning into me, pushing me back against the wall.
“Do you know how badly I want to touch you right now?”
For a moment, I couldn’t think, much less speak.
“I would start here.” His fingers traced the edge of the top of my dress, hovering, dipping into the hollow of my cleavage. His fingers were warm against my cool skin, his touch electric. I pushed against his hand. I didn’t care that we were in an elevator. Didn’t care that there were probably security cameras around. I wanted his hands and lips all over my body. I wanted him exactly as he was right now, his eyes dark with lust, tension vibrating through his body.
“I would touch you here.” His fingers slipped under the dress’s stretchy fabric, cupping my breast, his fingertips grazing my nipple, tugging gently.
I moaned.
Things were moving so quickly, like they always did with us, pushing me over the edge. Reason and caution gave way to want and need. Maybe I was wrong to act like he wasn’t a choice I made every time his hands touched my body, every time his lips touched mine. My body chose him every time. I chose him every time.
Suddenly, he stopped, slipping his hand out, readjusting the fabric so I was once again covered.
I blinked, peering over his shoulder. The elevator doors were open on his floor.
Samir stared down at me. “I plan on finishing this.” He squeezed my hand. “We have to talk first, though.”
I nodded, my arms around him, enjoying the feel of his hard body against mine. I wasn’t ashamed to admit after what just happened in the elevator, I was pretty much ready to agree to anything as long as it meant I would get to feel his hands on me again.
I followed him down the hall until we stopped in front of his room, waited behind him while he fumbled with his key. It was weird—I should have been nervous. But something had shifted between us. I didn’t feel nervous anymore. I felt like I belonged here with him. There was power in the knowledge that he wanted me, just as much as I wanted him.
Samir opened the door and I followed him in as he flipped on the lights. The room was bigger than the one Fleur, Mya, and I had, but I wasn’t surprised. Classic Samir.
I walked over to the window, staring down at his view of the marina, feeling as if I were on top of the world. A giddy excitement filled me—an awareness that we were at the beginning of something new between us. Something I badly wanted.
I turned and faced him. He stood near the door, his hands at his sides, watching me.
“You’re so beautiful.”
I believed it when he said it, believed the look in his eyes, the tone of his voice. I didn’t care if I was beautiful or not—just that he thought I was.
I took a step toward him.
His lips curved. “I think you should stay there.”
I stopped in my tracks. “Why?”
“Because I was serious when I said we needed to talk and I have this horrible, unavoidable habit of getting distracted around you.”
I grinned. “Sorry, not sorry.”
“You kind of have me by the balls and everything else.”
I snorted, struggling to ignore my racing heart. “Come on, the legendary Samir Khouri? I find it hard to believe any girl has ever had you by the balls.”
“They haven’t.” His expression turned suddenly serious. “Just you.”
Gymnasts started tumbling in my stomach. “So what now?”
“I like you.”
“I like you, too.”
“You’re one of the few female friends I have. And you’re definitely the only one I can’t stop thinking about naked.”
My lips twitched. “Ditto on the naked part.”
“I’m graduating in May. The plan has always been for me to go back to Lebanon. My father’s campaign for the National Assembly will be in full force, and he wants me to start getting involved in political life.”
I nodded. I’d heard this before.
“When I go back to Beirut, I’ll be expected to settle down. I know it sounds weird, but my life in London is a temporary thing.”
“Kind of like sowing your oats?”
“What?”
He looked so confused, it was kind of adorable. “American expression. Your last hurrah before you have to settle down.”
“Something like that. I went to Beirut and negotiated with my dad. I told him Layla wasn’t right for me. The rest of the school year is mine. But when I go back to Lebanon—”
I could fill in the blanks. “You have to do what your family says.”
Something that might have been embarrassment flashed across Samir’s face. “Yeah. I know it sounds weird.”
“It’s not all that weird. Okay, yeah, maybe a little. It’s just different.” I hesitated. “Do you ever just want to say no? Do you ever think of choosing a different life for yourself? Do you even want to go into politics?”
“It’s complicated. Life is different when I’m at home. What I want doesn’t really factor into it. My father is the head of our family. Everyone respects him. And when he dies, someone will have to take care of my mother, to take care of the rest of the family. I’m his heir. It’s my responsibility.”
“That’s a lot to put on you.”
“It’s the way it is. It’s hard to explain what life is like in Lebanon. We have drivers and servants and life is easy. On the surface. But it’s impossible to miss the fact that the country struggles. The wars affect you. You can’t escape them, no matter how much money you have. It’s always there in the back of your mind. We live close to the edge, wondering when the next flare-up will be. I’m French but I’m also Arab. I’ll always be Arab, always be Lebanese. I love my country and I’ll always feel a duty to it. My family has always been in politics. It’s how we serve. It’s how I’m meant to serve.”
I didn’t know what to say to him. I’d seen hints of this side of Samir, certainly known it existed. But in this moment I realized how much older he really was, how much more worldly. How much of his carefree attitude was a reaction to the massive weight he always carr
ied on his shoulders?
“I forget myself when I’m in London. Here, life is different. Here, I feel like I can do anything.” His gaze met mine. “I forget myself when I’m with you.”
There was something heavy in the air between us, and suddenly I had to confront it. Had to know where I stood with him.
“What do you want with me? What is this? We talk around it, dance around it, but I need to know. I need to know if what’s between us is real. I need to know what you want from me.”
“Be with me.”
My heart thudded. “How?” Everything he had just said ran through my mind. “For how long?”
“I graduate in May. Be with me until then. I know you deserve more. I wish I didn’t have these strings attached. I wish I could be more for you. But this is who I am. I can’t give you more. We both have to think of our futures and I don’t want you to change your life for me.”
The pounding in my heart increased. I needed a moment to think, to figure out what I wanted. I needed a moment to breathe. I turned, walking toward the window. I pulled back the drapes and stared down at the marina.
“What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you want?” His voice was urgent, as if he was waiting on my answer, as if it meant everything to him.
I felt it between us, that same push and pull that were always there. It confused me, scared me, made me want to run, made me desperate to stay. He’d broken up with his girlfriend. He was here, offering me a chance to have him—as much as he could give. I knew he wanted me. I knew we were good together. But was that enough to make it worth it? To make him worth it?
Six months. He was offering me six months. Then what? How was I going to be with him for six months and then watch him walk away? How was I going to let him go? I couldn’t see a future for us either, and yet the idea of agreeing to something temporary, only to be hurt later, seemed foolish. What did “be with me” mean anyway? Was he talking about something exclusive? Was this just a fancy way of saying “friends with benefits”? It scared me how much I cared. This was so far beyond just sex for me. I was getting pulled deeper into something I wasn’t sure I could get out of.
London Falling Page 12
