London Falling

by Chanel Cleeton

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “Stay here with Fleur.”

  “It’s your last night in London. I want to be with you.”

  I couldn’t. I turned and walked away.

  Maggie

  MAYBE I SHOULDN’T have come. But I couldn’t stay away.

  I stood outside Samir’s door, trying to make myself knock. Two hours had passed since he’d left me at Babel. I was no closer to knowing what do. I was lost—and yet somehow I’d ended up here.

  I knocked on the door, struggling to ignore the pounding in my chest and the nerves bubbling up in my throat. Worst-case scenario, he would send me away. Or he was already asleep. Best-case scenario? I didn’t know anymore.

  I waited, trying to tell myself his reaction didn’t matter, that the sum of us wouldn’t be reduced to the way he responded to me outside his door.

  The door swung open and he stared back at me, completely unsurprised. My heart caught in my throat. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  And then he was kissing me.

  His lips were on mine, desperate, hungry. Without breaking away, he pulled me into the room, shutting the door behind us, my body flush against his, his body hard against mine. His arousal pressed against me, and suddenly I needed him inside me.

  I broke apart from the kiss first, my fingers reaching behind me, tugging at the zipper, dragging it down. Samir’s eyes flared with heat. The dress slipped to the floor.

  I reached for him, our fingers tangling. I pulled his T-shirt over his head, my hands running over the hard planes of his chest, traveling lower, stroking his stomach, tugging at the waistband of his pajama pants. I needed to feel his naked skin against mine, needed the feel of flesh on flesh.

  His mouth captured mine in a rough kiss—heat and fire melding together and driving me crazy.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered against his mouth, my voice pleading.

  I was drowning in him—in his touch, his taste, his scent. I expected him to maneuver me against the bed, but instead the cool, hard wall hit my back. I sensed the desperation in him then—felt my own sense of urgency mimicked in his desire.

  It was fast, it was furious, and it was hot. One minute he was kissing me, his hands teasing my breasts, toying with my nipples, flicking them with his thumbs, and the next he was thrusting inside of me, filling me completely, my leg wrapped around his waist. Foreplay was gone. This was need—brutal and sharp.

  We moved together, to a silent beat of pain and ecstasy. We moved together until the pressure building inside both of us could no longer be ignored. Until we both shattered—his body shuddering in mine before I found my own release.

  We sagged against the wall for a minute, our foreheads pressed against each other’s. Our breath mingled, our bodies one. Samir released me for a moment and then took my hand; our fingers linked as he led me over to the bed. I lay down, staring up at him, waiting for his body to join mine, for that familiar weight next to me on the mattress.

  He sank down next to me, sitting on the edge, his feet planted on the floor, his back toward me. He leaned down, resting his elbows against his knees, his head in his hands

  The sight of him—the familiarity of it and the pain so obviously coursing through him—rocked me. I leaned forward, my breasts brushing against his back, my arms around his body.

  “Come to bed,” I whispered, kissing the spot below his neck and between his shoulder blades. I pulled away, the taste of his sweat and skin on my lips. I ran my tongue across my bottom lip, his scent flooding me.

  Samir turned and faced me, his expression unbearably sad. We didn’t speak. Not aloud, at least. There was no need for words. In that moment, lying in bed with him, I knew it didn’t matter what I said. I didn’t have to tell him I loved him. On some level we both knew.

  It was in the way my eyes lit up whenever he walked into a room, it was in the air between us that visibly crackled with electricity, it was in the pounding of my heart, in the heat of my skin. It was in every look, every touch, every smile he teased from my lips, every kiss.

  I loved him.

  There wasn’t a thing I could do about it.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Maggie

  THE SUNLIGHT HIT me first.

  For a moment, my mind was gloriously blank. It was just another morning. I yawned, rolling over, pulling the duvet with me. I stretched my legs, just as another pair of legs rubbed against mine, the slight roughness of hair brushing against my softer skin as our feet tangled. Hands reached out beneath the duvet, pulling me closer. His scent hit me first, that hint of spice I would forever associate with Samir. He mumbled something to me, but the words disappeared in the cocoon of fluffy white surrounding us. I wiggled closer to him, our bodies tight against each other in the small bed.

  I wanted to spend every morning waking up like this.

  Music filled the room, the sound of Samir’s radio alarm breaking through the morning silence. Ugh. I pulled the heavy duvet over my head, burrowing further into Samir’s warmth, my lips brushing his chest, sprinkling kisses there. Lips brushed against my face, flirting with my temples, teasing the curve of my cheek, caressing my mouth.

  It hit me, like a crashing wave. I stared up at his face.

  Samir’s eyes closed for a moment. “I know.”

  He put his arms around me, drawing me up against his hard body. At once his hands were everywhere—eager, demanding. There was no question, no hesitation.

  It was our last time.

  I rolled on top of him, my legs around him, straddling him, bringing our bodies into the closer contact I craved. Gone was the push and pull, the frustration and madness that simmered around us as we both struggled to define what existed between us. Instead, a bleak hunger took over, fueled by the knowledge that these moments, the sheer bliss of them, were finite.

  It was our last time.

  There was no time for soft kisses or sweet caresses. There was only the agony of desire, filling me, fueling me, pushing me deeper into the madness I found in his arms. I wanted him—needed him—inside me, making me forget—even if it was just for a moment.

  A tear escaped from my eyes, trickling down my cheek. I batted it away. I hated that I cried in front of him. Hated that he saw how weak my resolve was. Hated the chance that he could see through my lies.

  My heart shattered into a million tiny pieces.

  Samir

  I WANTED TO cancel my flight. I wanted to stay with her forever. I was angry. So angry—angry at myself for leaving, at my family, even at her. Because even now, even as I was buried so deep inside of her that I felt as if her body were a part of mine, I didn’t know how she felt about me. I didn’t know what she wanted. But most of all, I was angry at myself, because I didn’t know what I wanted and I didn’t know how much I was willing to give up in order to figure it out.

  It was hard to think when I was inside her. Hard to think when I was surrounded by all that warm, wet heat. She was heaven, and being inside her always felt like coming home.

  I gripped her hips, pushing her down on me, reveling in the feel of her body surrounding me. I could stay here forever, watching her move, her body a contrast of pink and white.

  She moaned, the sound breaking through the morning air. My blood spiked at the noise, at the sight of her biting her lip, her head falling back, exposing that gorgeous neck as she rode me. This was Maggie—completely, wholly uninhibited, wild and wanton. It was the part of her no one else got to see, the part that was hidden. The part that was mine.

  Her pace increased, her hips arching, daring me to keep up with her, taunting me with her body. A thin film of sweat covered her, her skin gleaming. I wanted to run my tongue along her flesh, wanted to taste her in my mouth. I wanted to consume her, bit by bit, to possess all of her. I wanted more. Always more.

  I thrust deeper, hovering on the edge of losing control. Her eyes widened in response, her lashes fluttering closed, her head falling back. She was close. I could
almost time her orgasms better than my own. I wanted her to come first. Wanted to watch her slide into her release, wanted to feel her body shuddering over mine, wanted to watch her lose her tightly held control.

  She’d shattered mine.

  Maggie

  I LAY IN BED, wearing the shirt he’d slept in the night before. It was one of his favorites—the cotton was soft and worn, a hint of his cologne and scent lingering on the fabric. My limbs were sore, my body deliciously exhausted. My heart was another matter entirely. It was raw, stripped bare. Aching.

  Samir dressed, his motions hurried, his back to me. His suitcases were lined up by the door, his room empty. It was strange to see it like this—all traces he had ever been here simply erased.

  It felt wrong.

  We hadn’t really talked since last night at Babel. Instead, after we’d made love, we’d lain in each other’s arms until we’d fallen asleep. There were so many things unsaid between us, so many things I feared I would never be able to say.

  But time was running out and all I could do was smile and pretend it was just another normal day.

  Finally he turned and faced me, his expression inscrutable.

  “I think that’s everything.” His voice was hard; gone was the sound that always surrounded me in warmth, that made my toes curl with pleasure. The things I loved about him all seemed to be slipping away.

  His phone beeped, breaking the awkward silence between us. Samir pulled it out of his jeans pocket, his gaze scanning the screen.

  “My car’s here.”

  “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to.”

  Lie. I wanted us to lock ourselves in this room and never leave.

  “Fine.”

  I followed him out of the room and down the stairs, each step taking me closer to the moment I dreaded.

  * * *

  I STOOD IN the hall, staring at the building’s front door, my limbs frozen, my mind completely blank. I was numb everywhere. Maybe it was the only way I could handle the pain.

  Suddenly I was a little girl again. Sitting on the curb of my ballet class, waiting for my mother to come pick me up. Somehow knowing she’d never come back.

  Why did the people I loved the most always leave?

  Maybe it was my fault for always pushing them away. Maybe I was supposed to fight more. Maybe I was supposed to let go. I didn’t know. That was the thing. I knew I needed to change, knew I’d reached the point in my life where it was time to grow up. But I didn’t know how. There weren’t instructions to follow or rules that would tell me how to get to happy. I had to find it myself and I was trying, stumbling through my life and the mess I’d made of things, trying to figure out how to fix everything. But time was running out, taking away my chances, leaving me with a sense of panic that it was now too late to change—to save the thing I wanted the most.

  “Maggie...”

  I couldn’t. I knew if this were a movie, this would be the moment for the big, romantic, dramatic goodbye. Samir would crush me in his arms and we would kiss and it would be passionate and desperate and all-consuming. But this was my life. What was left of if it anyway. Already I felt the gaping hole he had filled. I was drained, exhausted by the emotion, the months-long anticipation.

  I knew I should hold on to this moment, memorize every detail of his face, the way his dark hair fell over his forehead, the sadness in his eyes. I wanted to stop time, to pause and trace the shape of his face, to run my fingers over his skin and through his hair, to capture every piece of him. I didn’t want to let go.

  But time moved on and I had no choice but to move with it.

  I shook my head, desperately trying to block the pain in his voice. It cracked through me, creating fissures in my already crumbling resolve.

  Why did he have to do this to me? Why did he always have to break through the walls? Didn’t he know I needed them? Didn’t he know I couldn’t get through this without them?

  Why did love have to hurt so much?

  “Please, Maggie. Just look at me.”

  The pain in his voice ripped through my heart, making me feel too much and everything all at once.

  There was no way I could look at him. I was worried if I did, all the love I had for him, trapped inside, bursting at the seams of my heart, would spew out of my mouth in one awful swoop.

  “Have a safe flight,” I managed, forcing the words out with a wobbly smile.

  “Will you be okay?”

  No.

  I nodded. I couldn’t help it—I looked up. Our gazes locked. For one horrible moment, it hit me.

  I’ll never get to see his face again. Never get to kiss those lips. Never get to stroke that skin.

  A tear escaped from my eye, traveling down my cheek. Damn it.

  He cursed. “Please don’t cry.”

  Samir set his bag down on the ground, closing the space between us, wrapping his arms around my body.

  Oh, god.

  “I don’t want to leave,” he whispered against my hair, his face buried there.

  Three words. Three words could have kept him here. Three words could have ended this. They wouldn’t have been a lie. My love for him consumed me. It drowned me. It terrified me. But those three words would have come at too high a price.

  “You have to.”

  There wasn’t room in our lives for each other. His family would never accept me. I couldn’t change the fact that I was American or that my dad dropped bombs for a living. I didn’t come from money, didn’t fit into his world of excess and privilege. How could I ask him to give all that up? How could I ask him to sacrifice his future?

  Samir

  I COULDN’T LEAVE.

  I knew I couldn’t keep her. I knew she didn’t fit into my life, into the future everyone had planned. But in this moment I didn’t fucking care. I didn’t want a future if she wasn’t in it.

  I wanted to ask her again, wanted to know if she’d lied last night. I thought I knew. I thought I saw it in her eyes every time she looked at me, in her lips every time she kissed me, in the way her body responded when I was inside her.

  I thought I knew. But with Maggie, I never really knew at all.

  I’d never given a shit about my feelings, never much thought about my heart. But last night when I’d asked her if she loved me, and she’d said no, she’d destroyed it. Now I knew what it felt like to have your heart broken; now I knew what it felt like to be rejected. Now I knew what it was like to want something you could never really have. I couldn’t throw my future away on the chance she loved me, and even if she did...I didn’t know anymore.

  I pulled away from her, dangerously close to losing it. This—everything about it—was too much. It hurt to look at her, to touch her, to be near her. It hurt to love her if she didn’t love me back. It hurt to let her go when my head shouted one thing and my heart shouted another.

  “I should go.”

  She nodded.

  “Goodbye, Maggie.”

  “Goodbye.”

  For a moment I stood there, memorizing her face and her body. Losing myself in her eyes and her smile.

  Then I turned and walked out the front door.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Maggie

  I WATCHED HIM walk away, watched the door slam behind him. The noise filled the hallway and then it was eclipsed by a yawning silence, as the world held still for a moment. I sank down to the bottom step, hugging my body to my knees.

  He was really gone.

  I kept waiting for him to walk through again. For this to turn out to be some big joke—it couldn’t possibly be real. I’d known this moment was coming for months now—imagined it, feared it, desperately wished I could avoid it. And now, he was just...gone.

  My phone beeped and I stared down at the screen.

  I’m here if you need anything. Shopping? Donuts? Tequila? Let me know.

  Fleur. I choked back another sob. I stood up, wiping my face. My feet s
huffled up the stairs. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, on the mundane, concentrated on the things I could control rather than the one major thing that had escaped. Each step that carried me up the stairs took me farther and farther away from Samir. It didn’t matter.

  From here on out, wherever I went, whatever I did, whoever I met wouldn’t matter. There would always be a piece of me standing in that hall watching him walk away. There would always be a piece of me tethered to him by a thread that could never be broken. There would always be a piece of me that loved him.

  * * *

  “YOU LOOK TERRIBLE.” Fleur reached out, enfolding me in her arms.

  “I feel terrible.” It felt good to be able to tell the truth, to wallow in the comfort of our room. I pulled back, offering a weak smile. “Thanks for being here.”

  “Of course.”

  I sank down on my bed.

  “Is Samir okay? I texted him, but he hasn’t gotten back to me.”

  I didn’t know how to answer that one. Did he feel the same way I did—like his heart had been ripped from his chest?

  “I don’t know.”

  “What happened?”

  “He left.”

  “Are you guys going to talk? Are you going to try to see each other?”

  I shrugged. “What’s the point? Can you really see me fitting in with his family or his life in Lebanon?”

  For a moment Fleur didn’t answer. I figured she was too good a friend to lie to me.

  “You guys could still keep in touch. You could be friends.”

  I could tell by the tone of her voice that even she had a hard time swallowing that one.

  “No, we couldn’t be.”

  There was too much between us. I could never just be friends with him. I didn’t know how to be around him without wanting more. Maybe before we’d had sex a year ago, maybe we could have been friends then. But maybe we were never meant to be friends. Maybe I was kidding myself to think we hadn’t always been more.

  “I just can’t believe that’s it. I know it’s a tough situation, but I’ve seen the way you guys are with each other. You’re perfect together. He lov—”