His heart raced and a rush of pleasure surged through his veins. Too bad the Blanchard’s cops were barking up the wrong tree. And expecting problems on the wrong day.
“Because Ramadan is a festival month of giving and sharing, Muslims prepare special foods and bring gifts for their family and friends. They also give to the poor and needy who cannot afford to celebrate. This holy month is also a time to slow down from worldly affairs and to focus on self-reformation, spiritual cleansing, and enlightenment. A time to establish a link between themselves and God through prayer, charity, good deeds, kindness, and helping others. Everything culminates with celebrations and fireworks on Eid, the final night of Ramadan.”
A grin spread through Rashid’s soul as he thought of the gifts—and the fireworks—the sadiqs would be bringing the crew of the USS Blanchard on Eid this year.
“Since Ramadan has already begun, I’m going to turn this broadcast over to the Command Master Chief, who will discuss limited liberty in Port Said. Master Chief.”
“Thank you, Petty Officer McCabe. Let me start by stating that Ramadan is not a good time for American sailors to hit a liberty port in a Muslim country.”
Hallie’s heart stopped.
Was there to be no liberty? All she needed was one day or night on the beach with Philip to discuss Rick, and hopefully get a chance to—no. She shouldn’t even be thinking about making love with Philip. The risk was too high. But maybe just a few hours alone so they could talk. Really talk. Just to be with him for a few hours without having to look over their shoulders.
“However,” the Master Chief continued, “Port Said isn’t your typical Muslim city. Being as it’s the northern hub of the Suez Canal, the city caters to sailors, so it’s a little more lax about Ramadan rules. Heck, they serve beer and that’s more than many Muslim cities do—although you’ll have to wait until sunset on this visit. Anyway, sailors are their best customers so merchants are dependent upon our business.” He smiled. “And we certainly want to do our part to spread American goodwill around the world, now don’t we?”
Hallie and the film crew chuckled.
“Not that Uncle Sam hasn’t already contributed to Egypt’s economy by paying a quarter million dollars for the Carrier Strike Group to transit the canal later in the week, but I figure we’re good for a couple more bucks. So, it’s been decided that a few hundred carefully selected members of the Blanchard will be allowed liberty in Port Said during our proposed three-day replenishing stay. It’s going to be a different group each day. And, trust me, you will be carefully selected. The Navy is not about to allow anyone with a single strike in their disciplinary record to go ashore in a Muslim country during their holy month. We’re only sending ambassadors.”
Hallie expelled the breath she was holding. Yay, it was possible they could still meet up. Neither she nor Philip had any disciplinary action—but only because they hadn’t been caught, her guilty conscience added.
The CMC took a sip from a water bottle and cleared his throat. “Those crewmembers who did not get liberty in Greece will be considered first—but remember, you will be carefully screened.”
Hallie’s heart raced. Had Philip gone ashore in Greece? She hadn’t, but what if he had? Relax, she told herself. He would find a way for them to be together.
“Those who are chosen will take launches in starting at 1600 hours and you better be back on this ship by 0200 the next morning when the last launch returns. Don’t even think about staying out all night or you will not only find your ass in a sling, but you can kiss any more liberty for the entire cruise goodbye. Since the restaurants and bars won’t even open until dusk, there’s no reason to start launches any earlier.
“You will not eat, drink, or smoke in public until after sunset. Let me say that again. You will respect local residents and culture and you will not eat, drink, or smoke in public until evening prayer is called. And I cannot emphasize the following enough: Not having sexual relations goes without saying. I don’t care what time of day it is. So if you didn’t go ashore in Greece and your record’s clean, go ahead and submit chits to your chief and we’ll post a schedule of who gets to go ashore and when. If you need more information on appropriate Ramadan behavior, there’s plenty to research on the Internet. That is all.”
Hallie crossed her fingers under the broadcast desk, hoping with all her heart that Philip had not gone ashore in Greece, and that all his possible research centered around hotels.
Chapter 21
The first time he was going to knowingly have sexual relations with a subordinate, Philip Johnston was going to make it worth his while. All of his training, all the rules and etiquette he’d learned since his first days at Annapolis were checked at the door. He knew full well what he was about to do and he took complete responsibility for it.
Right down to booking a room in a five-star hotel.
Hallie and Philip took separate cabs to the hotel. While he waited for her, he paced the room, deep in thought. He’d done a lot of thinking over the past three days and realized they had to come up with some kind of a plan. They would not be able to rendezvous any more after this, either on the ship or off.
At least not until they returned to the States.
Today was one thing. They needed to talk. But after this, it was too dangerous. He shuddered when he thought of how close they’d come to losing control in the fan room. It was like his brain had lost all reason, and his body had been more than happy to take charge. There was no way they could meet in another clandestine spot on board the ship. He didn’t trust himself. And meeting too many times in public would definitely fuel the rumor mill. So if he wasn’t going to be able to be with her, how was he going to deal with five more months of watching her being hit on by every swinging dick on board? Ad nauseum. And it wasn’t just him being jealous. Hallie didn’t like it either. But he couldn’t exactly broadcast that she had given him her heart.
Or could he?
What if he asked her to marry him? What if he put a ring on her finger? What if the entire ship knew Petty Officer McCabe was engaged? Promised to some nameless, lucky guy back home? He hadn’t wanted to rush things, but he’d been prepared to propose to her in Florida before he left, so the male population back there would know she was off the market. Little did he know she wouldn’t be hanging around Jacksonville while he was gone. She’d be at sea with forty-five hundred horny guys on a Navy ship on a six-month cruise.
Proposing made perfect sense. But she hadn’t exactly jumped at the idea back in Florida. Was it because of her secret or was it him she didn’t want?
As he paced back and forth, Philip repeatedly ran his fingers through his hair, like he was going to find the answer there. Suddenly he stopped cold. Damn it. He was thinking with his head again, like he’d always done, except for that night in the fan room. He needed to think with his heart. Not easy for a left-brained engineer. Take the project apart and examine each part to determine…Fuck it. No way was he going to let Hallie get away again. The very idea of those aviators making her laugh in the ship’s store roiled in his gut.
Philip was going to jump in with both feet and propose. And then all he had to do was figure out a way to get an engagement ring sent from the States and onto her hand for everyone to see.
Okay, so it was worth a shot. But she also had to agree to table their relationship until spring. He would not do this sneaking around stuff for five more months. The Command Master Chief had been right. Shipboard relationships played havoc on the mission.
As he paced, anticipating her arrival, he thought about how much he wanted to take her today, devour her, and mark her as his own. However, today was definitely the time to be a gentleman—especially if he was going to propose—so he would have to restrain himself. Hallie was in pain, still smarting from the shock of Rick, and she’d need tenderness and care.
So he put o
n his gentleman face and answered the knock at the door.
But the minute he saw Hallie in the doorway, his primal brain took charge and he forgot everything except losing himself in her. Love first. Talk later. There was no thought of manners or following rules or mission or Ramadan or happily ever after. There was just wild, primal lust. All he could think of was that night in the fan room and how much he’d wanted to back her up against the door and consume her.
And it was obvious Hallie felt the same way. The second she saw him, she flew into his arms, her mouth searching for his. They barely shut the door before he had her against it, blindly fumbling for the locks while he devoured her mouth, his hands rifling her clothes, needing to touch her, taste her. Ripping and tearing at each other’s clothing, they murmured words of want. Of need. Of how much they’d missed each other.
“Do you have any idea how much—?” Philip started, before he was cut off by her tongue plundering his mouth. He only left her mouth long enough to find her breasts, now bared to him, allowing her to speak.
She managed to squeak out the words, “I’ve missed you so—” before his mouth again rendered her speechless. And not because he had covered it with his own. His lips and tongue on her breasts had taken her breath away.
Love now. Talk later.
He ravished her breast while fumbling for the button of her jeans. His hands shook pulling down the zipper.
Oh, hell. He was toast. She was wearing those purple skivvies. There was no way they were even going to make it to the bed now. Sliding her jeans down, he knelt and kissed her through the lace of her thong, stroking her bare ass with his thumbs, pulling her closer to his mouth.
All he could think of were the past three days of longing. Of wanting to take her in that fan room. Against the door. Even though her uniform had not been cooperative, he knew damn well he would’ve found a way. Thank God she’d brought them back to reality, because he sure as shit hadn’t been able to think with his brain. He would have sacrificed his country to be inside her that night, had she not had some blood left in her brain.
But now? Even though he had her nailed against a hotel room door, his mind was back in that fan room and no way in hell was he stopping, even to move it to the bed. He doubted his legs could carry them there anyway. Especially with her encouraging him, murmuring how much she missed him and loved him and needed him and how good it felt to have his mouth on her again.
Hearing the telltale signs she was working up to a scream,
Philip stood and silenced her with his mouth. Just what he needed. Hallie coming apart at the seams and making too much noise with only a door separating them from the chambermaids in the hallway.
In a Muslim country.
During Ramadan.
Before sunset.
Hallie broke the kiss. “Oh, God, Philip, I need you now. Please.”
He yanked off her thong and jeans and somehow managed to unzip his own jeans. Philip couldn’t fathom the idea of removing them, his need was so great. He slammed into her, filling her to the hilt, leaving her gasping. Hallie hooked a leg around his hip and reached around to bring him as close as possible, merging souls. How perfect it felt to be back where he belonged. Inside Hallie.
Her moaning intensified, alternating between mumbling his name and the Almighty’s, growing to a fevered pitch. She grabbed his hips, wildly twisting them back and forth to merge him with her sweet spot, so out of control her head banged against the door, mouth open—no sound coming from it, thank God.
Philip slipped his fingers between Hallie’s legs to help her over the edge and then watched through hooded eyes as she rocketed to her climax, her head thrashing from side to side, her voice keening.
He captured her mouth with his own, swallowing the scream, absorbing it into the marrow of his bones. And for one split second, he imagined them doing this in uniform. Against another door. In another room. On the ship. Her scream echoing down the steel passageways, leaving no doubt to anyone listening that he was her man. The image hit him so hard it nearly brought him to his knees and he poured a month’s worth of pain, frustration, longing, jealousy, and love into her body and soul.
The knock on the door was not entirely unexpected. “I’m sorry, Philip, do you think it’s the Ramadan police?”
He fought back the urge to laugh as he tried to catch his breath. “No. Probably just the Coast Guard.”
After they’d reassured the maid everything was all right, Hallie told him, “It’s good to be back in the saddle again, Cowboy. I’m sorry I screamed.”
“It’s okay. Just tell me again why you did it.” He planted kisses on her neck, her hair, her shoulders.
“You were just so amazing. I couldn’t control myself.”
“You know how I hate that ‘you were so amazing’ part. And you were pretty amazing too.” He looked down at his jeans around his hips and added, “You turned me on so much I couldn’t even get my pants off.”
“Or your glasses.” She giggled and straightened them. “Look at us.” Hallie stood against the door like the ravished woman she was with her bra hanging off one shoulder and her thong and jeans pooled around one knee. “I’ve never had door sex before.”
He kicked off his jeans while his lips twitched in amusement. “Me either, but I sure have been fantasizing about it for the past three days.” Then he sobered, fully realizing he had just officially stepped over the rule-breaking line. “Seriously, Hallie, we need to talk. We’ve got to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Well, sir,” she said as she kicked off the rest of her clothes, “My vote is we move this show to the bed.”
Philip chuckled, took her hand, and led her there. As they lay down, he took her in his arms, kissing her temple, wanting to discuss things, but at the same time wanting to put it off indefinitely. “First of all, honey, I’m sorry about that…door sex. I didn’t want it to be like that. I know I’m supposed to be comforting you, but I—”
She put her finger to his lips. “I’m beginning to think door sex might be even better than sailboat sex.”
“I agree, but—”
“Shhh. Don’t talk yet.” They lay in each other’s arms. Not talking. Not moving. Just being. Together. Again. Finally.
“Hallie, remember when you said I was your anchor? Well, you’re my sails.”
She turned to him, pressed her fingers to her smiling lips.
“You take me places I’d never go by myself.” He waved his arm around the room. “And I don’t mean places like hotel rooms in Port Said. Before you, I didn’t know life could be like this. I’ve always played things safe. And I still need that, but you take me...”
“To paradise?”
“Yeah, that covers it.”
And then she kissed him. Slow and sweet. First on the cheek and then worked her way to his lips. She pulled away, leaned on her elbow, raised an eyebrow, and smiled a smile of pure sin. She knew how much he hated it when she had her way with him. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”
His face lit up as she climbed up and straddled him. “Permission is so granted, McCabe.”
“Permission-to-Come-Aboard-Sir Sex” rapidly morphed into an old favorite: “Ride-’Em-Cowgirl Sex.” Once they’d expended the frustration of the past month or so, they made slow, gentle, tender love into the evening. And simply held each other in between.
They only realized it was getting dark when they heard evening prayer call being broadcast throughout the city. Their precious time was slipping away.
They would make the most of the few hours left. All thoughts of ethics and the UCMJ and Rick and Ramadan left in another world, beyond the door of this room, their boat, their paradise.
Chapter 22
Allahu Akbar. Ash-hadu an-la ilaha illa llah. Ash-hadu anna Muhammadan-Rasulullah…
The street
s of Port Said came alive as evening prayer was called by the muezzin from loudspeakers throughout the city. Rashid glanced around for shipmates before opening the taxi door. All he saw were local residents rushing to prayer or to eat after a long day of fasting. The air was alive with tantalizing smells of roasting meats on spits and savory spices: garlic, curry, cinnamon, and others he couldn’t put his finger on. Exotic covered it, though.
His stomach grumbled, but he knew the sadiqs would feed him. They’d emailed him an address from his “father’s college roommate who would be honored to invite the son of Stanley Davis for an after-sunset feast.” Right, like his dad ever went to college. As far as Rashid knew he hadn’t even finished high school. Rashid hadn’t seen him since he was eight years old. Good riddance, too.
He slammed the cab door behind him, but before he could hand the driver the address, the man turned to him and said, “Welcome to Egypt, Rashid.”
These guys were good.
A smile lit the driver’s face. “We are honored to have you visit us, sir.”
Sir? Oh, yeah, Rashid could get used to this. “Thank you. I was told to go—”
“I know where you are going, sir. My name is Hakim. I will be your driver and will take you to the correct place. Forgive the traffic. It is time for Magrib—evening prayer. The faithful are rushing to perform their ablutions before prayer, but they are excited knowing the parties and feasting will begin soon after.” He raised a water bottle to his lips. “I have just now had my first drink of water since dawn prayer call.”
“Guess it’s hard to observe Ramadan when it’s so hot.”
“Yes, it has been a long, hot, thirsty day for me. But that is what Ramadan is about, sir. To teach us compassion for those who do not have enough food or water. To do without things that give pleasure, each day for a month. To remind us to appreciate what we have. I’m sorry, I am a poor host. Would you like a water bottle, sadiqi?”
Forgive & Forget (Love in the Fleet) Page 18
