London Falling

by Chanel Cleeton

“I’m not having sex with you in your parents’ house.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I’m not.”

  Samir leaned over, whispering in my ear. “Babe, I’ll have you wet and moaning before the weekend is out.”

  I flushed. “You can certainly try,” I bluffed.

  He laughed, the sound low and rich, sending a shiver down my spine. “I bet you’re turned on right now. I bet you’re sitting there, thinking about my hands and mouth, about me between your thighs....”

  “Shh. The flight attendants might hear you.”

  He smirked. “I think you like knowing they might hear me. I think you like that I can make you forget all those rules you set for yourself. That with me you just let go.”

  I tried to act like his words didn’t mean anything. Like I didn’t get off on the thrill of the forbidden with him. He didn’t need to know how right he was. His arrogance was both my favorite and least favorite thing about him. I was a total masochist.

  “You forget—I know you. Better than anyone.”

  “What am I thinking right now?” I asked tartly.

  He grinned. “I agree. The Mile-High Club would be an excellent idea.”

  I elbowed him in the side. “That’s not what I was thinking.”

  “But now you are.”

  I rolled my eyes. He didn’t need to know he was right.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Maggie

  MILE-HIGH CLUB?

  Not the worst idea ever. Turned out getting laid on his dad’s plane relaxed me a bit. Until I saw his house and all of my fears came crashing back.

  I’d thought his family’s flat in Paris was impressive. This place put it to shame.

  From the exterior, his parents’ house resembled a Mediterranean palace—at least what I imagined a Mediterranean palace would look like. Greenery surrounded the house, immaculately maintained. Huge cedar trees provided privacy from the main road. The house was three stories tall, the entrance dominated by double stone stairways leading up to the front drive. A Bentley was parked in the driveway.

  “I don’t think I can do this.”

  Samir tugged me forward, through the massive front doors and into a whole different world. “I met your entire family. You can handle a few days with mine.”

  “My sweater cost ten dollars,” I hissed. “My jeans are borrowed from Fleur and I had to roll the bottoms because she’s like twelve feet tall and I’m a hobbit. I promise you, I can’t do this.”

  Samir kissed the top of my nose, ignoring my freak-out. “You’re not a hobbit. And your ass looks amazing in those jeans.” He wrapped his arms around my waist, bringing me against his body—his hard body—and moving his hands lower to cup the ass in question.

  I jumped back. “Someone will see.” We stood in the middle of his parents’ entryway. It was two stories tall, full of marble, and gold, and things that looked expensive. No big deal.

  “I’m not embarrassed or worried someone might see. We decided we were going to have a relationship—a real relationship—months ago. I’m not hiding this shit anymore. Either you’re my girlfriend or you’re not. I’m not doing this back-and-forth because you’re scared.”

  I gaped at him. Anger came off of him in waves.

  “I’m serious. This is ridiculous. Either you’re in or you’re out.”

  I’d thought all along he wanted to be as casual about everything as I pretended to be, but now, seeing the anger in his eyes, I realized he expected more from me. I wasn’t sure I could give it. There was something safe in the status quo. We didn’t have to define our relationship and I liked that. I couldn’t lose something I’d never had.

  “Maggie.” His voice lowered. “I need you here. I need you to be with me.”

  His words unraveled the tension that had been building inside me since he’d first asked me to go to Lebanon. It wasn’t about whether or not I was scared or nervous. It was about Samir. And, as hard as it was, it was about us.

  “I don’t want to screw things up between you and your family.”

  “You won’t.”

  His lips caressed mine, searching for something that seemed an awful lot like reassurance. I worried I didn’t have enough to give. So I kissed him back, putting everything I had into the kiss. In the beginning, sex had been the scary part, but now sex was easy. It was everything else that terrified me.

  I knew it was hard for him to be back home, knew his relationship with his parents was strained. I wanted to be strong for him, wanted to give him the same kind of support he’d given me with my family in South Carolina. Doing so meant I had to grow the fuck up.

  “Samir.”

  I froze at the sound of the elegant voice, the French accent.

  Samir’s hands stilled at my waist. He pulled back, putting space between our bodies. For a moment he stared at me, desire in his gaze. It disappeared before me as his face transformed into an expressionless mask. I’d never seen that look on his face, but it was enough to send a shiver down my spine. He turned, his arm looped around my waist, drawing me close. We both stared up in the direction of the stairs.

  A woman stood at the top of the staircase looking down on us like a queen surveying her empire. She had dark, nearly jet-black hair, her eyes a startling blue. She was tall, slim, impeccably dressed, dripping in diamonds.

  Samir hugged me tighter to his body.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Samir

  MY GRIP TIGHTENED around Maggie’s waist, tension filling my body. As far as parents went, my mother was the easier one for me to deal with. I wasn’t sure I could say the same for Maggie.

  In one glance, my mother cataloged Maggie and dismissed her, her mouth tightening in a firm line. It was only there for a moment before it was eclipsed by one of her public smiles—cold, polite, impersonal. She wouldn’t be rude; her social rules wouldn’t allow it. But she would still find a way to make Maggie feel small, to convey that she wasn’t welcome in our world.

  I was an idiot for bringing her here. I was an idiot for hoping things would be different. I should have predicted this. I’d wanted to show Maggie Lebanon so I’d acted impulsively—ignoring the likelihood things would play out exactly as they were. I’d been stubborn, another flaw in the long list of those my father had pointed out.

  My mother glided down the stairs, her gaze trained on the spot where my arm held Maggie against me. She stopped expectantly at the base of the stairs.

  “Are you going to come greet me?”

  I released Maggie, my legs like lead as I walked toward my mother. My mother’s perfume filled my nostrils—floral, Chanel. I leaned forward, our cheeks brushing against each other.

  For a moment I just stood there, my body blocking Maggie’s.

  “And who is your friend?” she asked, that same cool voice, same cold stare shifting to Maggie.

  Fuck it.

  “This is Maggie. My girlfriend.”

  Maggie

  I TRIED TO make my lips curve into a smile. Eventually I just gave up. It wasn’t a coincidence that the temperature dropped by several degrees when Samir’s mother entered the room.

  “You have a lovely home, Mrs. Khouri.”

  “Thank you.” Her eyes narrowed for a moment. “American?”

  For a moment I considered lying and saying Canadian if that would buy me some points with her.

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting.”

  She made interesting sound like I’d come from Mars.

  Samir put his arm back around me, kissing the top of my head. Her eyes narrowed.

  “I’m going to get Maggie settled into her room. It’s been a long trip.” He glanced at his watch. “The rest of the party should be here in an hour.”

  “How lovely.”

  I stifled the snort. I’d never heard anyone sound less sincere.

  We excused ourselves and started up the staircase when Samir’s mother called back to us.

  “Samir, your father will be here for di
nner. I’m sure he can’t wait to meet your friends.”

  The arm around me tightened.

  We walked up the staircase, neither one of us speaking. He led me down a long hallway until we stopped in front of a door.

  “This will be your room. Mine’s across the hall.”

  Gone were the teasing voice and the sexual innuendo. His jaw was clenched, his gaze hooded. I reach down and grabbed his hand, linking my fingers with his, squeezing.

  He pushed open the door, leading me into the room, closing the door behind us.

  “Are you okay?”

  He guided me back onto the bed, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me in, burying his face in my hair. For a moment, he didn’t speak. He drew back, meeting my gaze.

  “I’m so sorry about that. I should have realized how horrible this was going to be. I’m so sorry I brought you here.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He laughed bitterly. “It’s not fine. That was my nicer parent. I can’t wait until you have to meet my father.” He rested his forehead against mine. “I’m so, so sorry. This was the worst idea. I should have thought about it before I made you come here. It was stupid and selfish. All I could think about was showing you my home, how I grew up. I wanted you to see Lebanon, wanted you to love it as much as I do. But it’s not worth them treating you like shit.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. I didn’t want you to see me here, see the way your parents looked at me and realize I didn’t fit in your world.”

  “What?”

  I sighed. “I was afraid being here would make you realize how different we were. How much I didn’t fit in your life.”

  “Are you kidding me? I like you because you’re different. I love that about you. You’re worth more than all of this. Don’t you see that?”

  I saw it when he looked at me like that. I heard it in his voice, felt it in his kiss. Deep down, even as it scared me, I knew what I meant to him. But my head always fucked it up. My fears ran through me like a lightning storm, blinding me to anything else.

  I kissed him, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him toward me.

  “We can do this,” I whispered against his mouth. “We can get through this.”

  In that moment, I even believed it myself.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Maggie

  I’D NEVER BEEN happier to see Fleur. She sat next to me at dinner, filling the silence with an endless round of chatter and stories. I owed her big time.

  Samir sat across from me, uncharacteristically quiet. Here, he was a shadow of his former self. I figured it had everything to do with the man sitting at the head of the table.

  His father wasn’t a big man, but he had presence. There was a charisma about him. Not the same kind of charisma I’d come to associate with American politicians—he wasn’t charming or overly friendly—but there was something there. Power. Privilege. He looked like a king presiding over the dinner with a sort of casual disinterest. I wasn’t sure I liked how much he reminded me of Samir.

  This was the world he’d grown up in—gold flatware and plates, quiet servants, and all the trappings of vast wealth. This was the world he was expected to return to, to rule over someday. It was no place for someone like me.

  I kept my head ducked for most of the dinner, concentrating on the food—a Lebanese feast even the company couldn’t spoil—and struggling to keep up with the conversation. Samir’s parents spoke a little English, but most of the conversation was in French. Anytime the conversation came to Samir, he answered in English and I fell a little more in love with him.

  Finally, dinner ended and the men retired to do man things. Fleur excused the girls, claiming we were all tired. Samir’s mother seemed relieved. Despite the family connection, she didn’t seem to like Fleur much more than she liked me.

  We all collapsed on the bed in my room.

  “That was a narrow escape,” Mya joked.

  “Please tell me they aren’t always this bad.”

  Fleur laughed. “Sorry. This is standard.”

  As much as my family situation sucked, at least I’d grown up in a loving house. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to grow up like Samir had.

  “Why does his mom hate you so much?”

  Fleur rolled her eyes. “I’m the wild one in the family. She’s never liked me. Thinks I’m a bad influence on Samir.”

  I snorted. I loved Samir, but I was pretty sure no one could be a bad influence on him.

  “How did his parents even meet? For all his dad’s pushing hard for a Lebanese girl for Samir, I’m surprised he married a French woman.”

  “Our grandfather on our mothers’ side did a lot of development in Beirut so that helped. Even though he was French he had a ton of social and financial connections here. But still, I think Samir’s dad got some political shit for it. That’s probably why he’s pressing so hard for Samir to marry a local girl.”

  Knife to the heart. “They hate me, don’t they?”

  They hadn’t been rude to me; they’d just basically looked through me, like I didn’t exist. I wasn’t even important enough to register on their radar. They treated me like I was just another one of Samir’s flings.

  Mya began studying a pillow on the bed.

  “Of course,” Fleur confirmed.

  “I knew they would. I told Samir I didn’t want to come. He should have listened to me.”

  “Samir tends to not want to hear the truth when it stands in the way of something he wants. He wanted you here. And deep down I bet he wanted his family to accept you.”

  “I wanted that too.”

  Fleur leaned over and gave me a hug. “I know you did.”

  “What are we going to do? There’s no happy ending for us, is there? No chance of this actually working out.”

  Fleur frowned. “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you there was. But I think there’s a huge gulf between the two of you, and until one of you is brave enough to cross it, you’re always going to be apart.”

  I heard the truth in her words. I just didn’t see a way through.

  Fleur stood up. “Come on, Mya. Let’s go back to our rooms. I think Maggie’s going to want some privacy soon.”

  “Why?”

  “That stuff Samir’s dad was saying in French?”

  I nodded.

  “He basically spent the whole dinner ripping on Samir.” My heart thudded. That’s why he’d looked so miserable. “He’s going to need you tonight.”

  Samir

  I WANTED TO punch something. Someone. He was such an asshole. I supposed I was lucky he hadn’t said the things he’d said in French in English. And that was only because he practically refused to speak English. But at least Maggie hadn’t understood it. The only thing that had made the whole dinner bearable had been having her there. As soon as the girls had gone upstairs, it had been as if the air were sucked from the room.

  I walked down the hall, my feet failing to move fast enough. I wanted her. No, I needed her. I needed the kind of peace only she seemed to give me.

  I stopped in front of her door and rapped my fingers against the wood, not really caring if anyone heard me. I’d been joking about the sex before. I hadn’t really planned on seducing her in my parents’ house—even I had limits. But that was before. Before he’d laid into me. Before he’d made me feel like a child again. As if I were nothing. A spot of dirt beneath his shoe.

  Maggie opened the door, her eyes wide, dressed only in a robe. I didn’t speak. Instead, I grabbed her hand, pulling her out into the hall with me, walking purposefully toward my room. She didn’t say a thing. There was something inside me tonight, something dangerous, edgy. I felt as if I were dying in this house and I wanted her to bring me back to life. I wanted her in my bed, the scent of her on my sheets, the sight of her naked body burned in my mind, so when she was gone, and I was back living a life I wanted nothing to do with, at least the memory of her would keep me company. Even if it was all I could have.


  I opened my bedroom door, Maggie behind me, her body against mine, the feel of her breasts against me enough to make me throb. I closed the door behind us and whirled around, capturing her mouth in a desperate kiss, one I lost control over from the start.

  Maggie

  HE PUSHED ME BACK against the wall, his hands fumbling for my robe’s belt. His lips plundered mine, his mouth possessing me, his body devouring me.

  My robe fell to the floor and I stood before him naked, my nipples tight and aching, my body shivering, catching the tinge of need that surrounded us.

  “I need you. Now.” His voice was hoarse, raw, his entire body tense. I saw the hurt inside him, the pain that covered his handsome features. The sight of that pain sent a knife through my heart. If I could have taken it from him and borne it as my own, I would have.

  “Then take me.”

  He didn’t hesitate. He took me in his arms and carried me to the bed, tossing me down on the plush mattress. I was only alone for a moment before his body covered mine. His hands fisted in my hair, his teeth grazed my shoulder, biting my skin, sucking on the thin curve of my neck. His hands and lips were everywhere—cupping, squeezing, tugging, stroking. He tongued my nipple and my hips shot up off the bed, my back arching with pleasure.

  I pulled at his clothes, desperate to feel his bare flesh against mine.

  “I can’t wait. I can’t go slow. I have to have you.”

  When he was naked he left the bed to grab a condom from his suitcase, tearing into the foil package and rolling it on. He moved forward, settling between my legs, rubbing against me, the friction sending a tremor through my body.

  “I need you. Please.”

  His gaze darkened and he spread my legs wider, wrapping my ankles around his back. He thrust inside me little by little, filling me, stretching my body. His hips created a rhythm my own had no choice but to follow. Our gazes locked, and I swore I could almost hear his thoughts, pushing to come out. We needed no words. Instead, we spoke with our eyes and our bodies.

  He’d taught me so much about sex. There were times we were playful, joking and teasing, laughter filling the space around us. There were other times when it was fast and furious, a mad tangle of limbs, and a joining that felt like a desperate race to the finish. Times when he taught me to embrace the power he gave me, the ability to make his body shake at the sight of me stripping before him or prancing around in something sheer and lacy. But this? This was something new. Something he hadn’t taught me. Tonight I learned sex could be something else—that somewhere in between his body slipping into mine and the ecstasy and release, two people who were broken could come together and be made whole.