by Liz Crowe
“Hiya.” Vivian flopped into a ratty overstuffed chair next to her friend. “Sorry. I had to turn down a marriage proposal.” She sighed and put a beer bottle to her lips. Vivan didn’t really like to drink. The thrill here was more about being out. Out of her father’s reach for a few hours doing what represented activity completely and utterly wrong for her. But boredom threatened as she scanned the familiar crowd. Same guys and girls, same music, same scene. The Roman artifact reeked of mold and mildew and age, but what else was new. Everything in this damn city must be a zillion years old, and everything in it stank.
Lillian kept talking. Vivian paid little attention to the words coming out of her mouth. “Ron! Wow! You turned him down? Why, Viv? He’s dreamy.”
Vivian snorted and put the beer down. She looked at the door again, feeling edgy, nervous. “No chance. He’s daddy’s boy. They can forget about arranging my life.”
“Yeah, but he’s so….”
Vivian cut the simpering girl’s next words off with her sharp tone. “Spare me, Lil. I’ll introduce you. He is a nice kisser. You two can move to Ankara and start spewing out children. Whatever.”
Lillian gasped and put her hand to her throat. “He kissed you?”
Vivian sighed. The girl was hopeless. She’d probably have kittens if she knew how many of the men in this very room she’d kissed. She patted her friend’s denim clad knee. “Yes dear, but I don’t think he even got hard.”
“Oh my God, Vivian, you are so bad!” Lillian’s face turned beet red. Vivian resumed ignoring her. Kissing meant nothing to her. She’d done plenty of it and more back home at UCLA. But here it had the added extra bonus of making her a stone cold slut in the eyes of any Turk who locked lips with her. She loved it. She readjusted her skirt, the one she’d changed into after Ron left and positioned herself so she could see the ancient wooden door opening and closing. Would he come?
A commotion near the makeshift bar drew her attention. Some tourist kept griping about how much the beer cost. The owner, who was also a class-A kisser in Viv’s book, glared at him. The coiled energy and tension ramped up as the locals gathered around in a loose circle behind the two men. He muttered curses, calling all the girls sluts, all the Turks dogs in the rough language she recognized as German. Vivian’s heart pounded so hard it made her breathless. They hadn’t seen a good fight in here in a while. This would be fun. She stood and walked around behind the bar. The tall, blond, boringly European jerk had worked himself into quite a state. Demanding his money back, threatening to call the police down on the place. Her heart sped up as his obviously drunken stare landed on her.
“How much for her?” The group around him shuffled and murmured, moving closer.
“What did you say, Kraut?” The bartender replied in perfect German.
“I said very clearly you Turkish son-of-a-goat: how much for the whore?” He made the mistake of moving toward the bar and reaching across it. She didn’t move.
“You could never afford me, you Nazi bastard.” She answered in his native tongue, crossing her arms. His eyes narrowed. Moving faster than she figured he could, he covered the two feet around the back of the bar and grabbed her hair, hard, bringing tears to her eyes.
“I’ll show you Nazi, you American slut.” He crushed his disgusting mouth on her, raping her with his tongue as she struggled. The man reeked of cologne covering a lack of bath, and God knows how much booze. She let him invade her mouth just enough.
“Holy mother of…Christ!” He leapt back, covering his mouth. “The bitch bit me!” He lunged at her again, and she sidestepped him. The place erupted in chaos as the regulars surged forward to grab him by his shoulders. The foreigner yelped in pain as one set of hands grabbed his wrist and jerked it up behind his back then shoved him to the floor. The crowd stepped back. Vivian looked down at the guy with the black boot pressed against his face.
“This floor is really really filthy, Kraut,” she whispered switching to Turkish. “Why don’t you kiss it? It’s more suited to your nasty mouth.” Unable to resist she spit at him, and the room erupted in laughter as her saliva rolled down his cheek. He yelled out a few more German curses, but Vivian stood to thank the savior that belonged to the huge boot planted on the jerk’s face. Her gaze travelled upward, taking in dark slacks, a trim waist, light blue shirt, long elegant, golden-hued throat. She put a hand over her mouth when she locked eyes with Levent. He wasn’t even breathing heavy after his little wrestling match. He lifted his upper lip in a smirk, the scar standing out on his otherwise perfect face. Dear Lord, the man was gorgeous. Her thighs tingled as she smiled at him. The purely physical response was something entirely new. No man had ever elicited anything like it from her. It terrified and exhilarated her all at once.
A few of the regulars jostled the German to the door, shoving him out with shouts of encouragement. Levent stood, hands in his pockets and stared at her. She moved first, wrapping her arms around his neck, going up on tiptoe to reach him, breathing in his scent, the very essence of man. He returned her embrace, a little reluctantly at first. She broke away, put both hands on the sides of his face and let a tear slip down her face. He put his large, dark hands over hers. The room shrank, reduced from a loud, illegal bar to a darkened space where only two were present. The surreal sensation made her dizzy. If he would kiss her, right now, she knew she’d be his forever.
But he took a breath, and a step back, keeping her hands clutched in his. “Darling, Vivian.” His voice was rough with emotion. “Kucuk olan. I can’t believe it’s you.” She was temporarily blinded by a vision—his hands, her body, his lips, her eagerness, candles, a bed, some wine.
“Yes, it’s, um, a surprise isn’t it?” Lame.
“The most pleasant one I have ever received.” He kissed one hand then the other. His lips were full, soft, and amazing. Vivian gulped, yanked her hands back before she did something really unsuitable, like fling herself into his arms.
“Let’s sit, shall we? We have so much to talk about.” The firm hand on her elbow felt perfect. Lillian gawked at him. “Hello.” He switched to beautifully accented English. “I am, Levent.” He held out a hand to her friend. Vivian regained her senses.
“Sorry, um, Lillian, this is my….” She was dumbstruck all over again as she looked at him. He pinned her with his dark gaze, until he raised an eyebrow, gave a small nod, reminding her she hadn’t finished her sentence. “M-m-my oldest friend, Levent. We knew each other years ago, the first time I lived here.” Lillian devoured the tall, striking man next to Vivian with a glance, and she felt a rush of utterly irrational jealousy at the girl’s stare. She glared at her friend, and Lillian stuck her tongue out.
“Very pleased to meet you.” She simpered and let Levent hover over her hand a tad too long for Vivian’s taste.
“Yes, well we’ll be over there.” She indicated a couple of chairs in the corner. “We have some catching up to do.” She looped her arm brazenly through Levent’s and pulled him away. Someone brought them a couple more beers after they took their seats across a tiny table. He sipped his and sat back, watching her. She fiddled with her bottle.
“Go ahead, I don’t care.” He indicated the dark bottle. She frowned.
“I don’t care if you care.”
He burst out laughing. The sound flowed like a beautiful symphony across her brain. He leaned forward and touched her hand. “Exactly like I remembered. Any opportunity to break rules, no?” The tip of his tongue darted out, touched his upper lip, and Vivian nearly fainted at the fantasy loop in her head ramped up a notch. He stayed quiet, incredible eyes narrowed. She wanted to drown in them. How had she forgotten him? They’d gotten into so much trouble that last day his family had sent him away. She’d missed him and soon after her life had exploded when her mother had discovered Vivan’s father’s affair, packed the two of them up, and skedaddled back to California for the next fourteen years.
“I thought you had your own company or something.” She pressed her hands on her thighs, a
ware of the tremors in them both. “Why are you taking classes?”
“Finishing a Master’s level degree. How did you know I had a business?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Vivian resisted the urge to stare at how perfectly the soft cotton of his shirt stretched across his shoulders. Her hands itched to touch, feel, caress. She must really be a slut. But she didn’t care. She wanted this man. And sensed he wanted the same thing. She shifted back in her seat, mirroring his posture.
“I asked around.”
“Ah, well, yes I do. A small engineering subcontracting company. I am the go between on large construction jobs right now. It’s a living.” He shrugged. Vivian took a deep breath, sucking in the essence of the man across from her. Light cologne mixed with something elemental, something urgent and needy. She forced herself to smile and flirt when what she really, truly wanted was for him to kiss her, press her up against a wall and—she shook her head. As progressive and liberated as she liked to pretend to be, Vivian was a virgin. Kissing and groping were the extent of her repertoire. She’d never felt compelled by anyone to go any further in spite of a lot of spirited efforts to convince her otherwise.
“And you. What brought you back to my city, eh small one?” She realized they had eased into Turkish. The endearment struck her right in the heart. He used to call her that every time they’d venture out, goading her to do more, take more chances, follow him into ever deeper trouble. She looked down to hide her overheated face.
“What else? My father.”
“But you left, not long after. Well, you know. I thought you would never return.”
“How did you know? Your mother told me you had moved to the military academy.” She blinked back tears at the memory. Her mother had yanked her hair so hard that day they’d shown up, late, filthy and in his case bleeding like a stuck pig. He shifted in his seat. She suppressed a gulp at the concept that he was as uncomfortable as she. Long forgotten memories tumbled in on each other.
Her parents had yelled at each other long and loud that day indeed. Over her. She’d been left to roam the streets like an urchin with a servant boy according to her father. She’d slammed the door and ignored them. But the next day Levent’s mother, the woman who babied her and coddled her in ways her parents never did, choked back tears as she told Vivian that her son had gone away. Would not be returning. “Forget him, my darling,” she’d crooned as Vivian’s tears soaked her dress. “I have. We must. It’s for the best.”
He cleared his throat. “Earth to Vivian?” He cocked his head to one side and touched his scar. Her face got so hot she figured she’d likely glow in the dark.
“Sorry, I was just, remembering.” She choked out.
He nodded. She drank the too-warm beer in a rush, hoping it would calm her. It went down the wrong way, and she sputtered and coughed as he leapt up and pounded her back.
Keeping a hand on her upper back, he leaned into her ear. “You okay, small one?” His breath brushed her ear, sweet and soft against her flesh. She closed her eyes. He stood a moment longer at her shoulder then sat. She tried not to beg him to come back over, touch her some more.
***
Levent struggled to catch his breath, to remain calm, to seem unflustered by the closeness of her body. He kept a casual arm around her shoulders as they exited the smelly illicit Dungeon bar. The midnight hour was no time to be parading around with a foreign female, and he knew it. But he wanted to walk with her, hold her hand, relive and relearn her, inch by inch. His cock could cut diamonds, and the ache in his lower belly distracted him, but he didn’t care. She was back. And he used any excuse he could find to touch her.
They laughed as they walked along the edge of the Bosporus. Her smile and voice the balm his overwrought psyche craved. The thought of having to leave her somewhere, even at her father’s house, made him cringe inside. Mine. She is meant to be mine. “She is your superior. It is inappropriate” rang in his ears but he shoved it aside.
“Tell me more about your life now. I want to know everything.” He used the excuse of cool night air and friendly “catching up” to pull her closer. She snuggled into his side.
“Oh you know, college, studying business. It’s perfectly boring. I would love to study art. Father says that would be useless. But….” She stopped and pointed out over the dark water.
“Here. It was right here.” He frowned at her. She slipped her arm around his waist. Levent used all his willpower not to kiss her. Because that would be entirely bad. They couldn’t. Her father would never allow it.
“Here what?” He leaned in for an illicit sniff of her hair, and was rewarded with essences of ocean, exotic flowers, and the sun.
“The submarine. Remember? You made us stand here and freeze until that stupid thing emerged. I thought you were gonna pee your pants you were so excited.”
He laughed. But tried to disentangle himself from her arm. He might lose it in a minute if he didn’t get some distance from her. To his utter surprise she turned to him, her eyes shimmering with tears. The kiss shocked him. He stood, frozen, unwilling to commit, afraid of what he might do for a few seconds. She broke away. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t.”
Levent put a hand on her face. “No, I shouldn’t. But God help me, I must.”
He possessed her with his mouth, forced her full lips open with his tongue. When she wrapped both arms around his neck and moaned, he deepened it, sweeping into her mouth, owning her, laying his mark on her. His head spun as he tried to keep some distance between their bodies, unwilling to press against her but she insisted. Without breaking their lip connection he walked her backward to the bridge’s large railing, shoved a thigh between her legs and let her feel every inch of his desire for her.
“Oh God.” He tried to break. He’d gone too far. But her eyes were wild and hungry, her face flushed and eager under the bridge lights. And she was, in a word, delicious. He trailed his lips along the curve of her jaw, to her ear, bit down, bringing a soft cry from her lips, making his cock even harder if that were physically possible.
“We cannot.” He yanked out of her arms. “This is, wrong. You are….” He sensed her quickened breathing, caught the faintest edge of a black lace bra between the buttons of her silky blouse. He groaned as she grabbed his belt buckle and tugged him back to her, wrapping her entire body around him.
“Levent. I need you. I….” She gasped as he cupped her ass with one hand and a lace encased breast with the other. He was out of control. He was going to take her right here, right now if he didn’t stop.
Her hand was on him, stroking his length beneath his zipper, making him thrust his hips as he captured her mouth again. God, he could kiss her forever. He had never felt so connected to any woman. But he would not do this here, not this way. He released her, gave her lower lip a small bite and looked into her eyes, cradling her face in his hands. “I left your house that day and my life ended. Now, you are returned to me, my darling, I—” He gazed up at the city-lit night sky. She buried her face in his shoulder.
“I have to go home,” she mumbled into his shirt then glanced up at him. He smiled and brushed away her tears. “I’m really late. I’m usually home by midnight. It’s what, two in the morning? Will you walk me there?”
“The American Consulate is too far to walk from here.” His protective nature flared up. “I’ll find a taxi we can trust.”
“Okay but won’t you get in trouble, out this late with a yabanci female?” He grinned and ran a finger down her face, ending at her lips. She took the tip between her lips and sucked. He shivered, which made her grin. “I’m no angel, Levent. Never have been. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. It’s what I missed most. Well, until now.” He had to taste her once more. The sweetness of their kiss nearly made him cry like a girl. Dear Lord but this only meant trouble. There was no denying it. They could never be together. But his life would be over otherwise. He took her by the arm and led her up to the still busy street.
He tucked h
er behind him and whistled for a taxi, knowing no one who thought he had a woman with him out this late would stop. A small yellow cab screeched to a halt. He piled her in, finger to his lips. “Greetings, brother. Thank you ever so much for stopping. Would you mind terribly getting us back to the American Consulate? My sister is meeting her friend there. They are very good friends.”
The cabbie grumbled, but in the way of all Istanbul drivers, barely looked over his shoulder before peeling back out into traffic. Vivian kept trying to touch his leg and as much as he wanted it, he knew it would never fly inside the taxi. So he pushed her toward her door. She stuck her tongue out. But he merely nodded toward the driver, letting her know to cool it. They sat, weaving their way through the pre-dawn traffic his heart soaring as he took in her profile. Her exquisite, delicate features, long brown hair begging him to bury his hands in, full red lips swollen from his attentions. Her hands were clasped in her lap, as she stared straight ahead. Levent glanced at the driver then snuck a hand over to hers, covering them both. The heat from her skin made him bite back a groan. He kept his hand there, wondering what in the hell he could do about the fact he was head over heels for this girl again—the one girl he couldn’t have.
Chapter Four
He walked her to the huge door, but Vivian pulled him around to the back. There was absolutely no way she could waltz into the front door this late. One of the kitchen doors had a key she kept hidden under a rock nearby. She felt his gaze on her as she swiftly got herself back inside. He stood, hand on the door, keeping her from closing it. Any number of odd emotions roiled in her gut, making her short of breath. This impossibly handsome Turk, her dear friend from childhood, a man beyond her wildest dreams stood so close it made her goofy and weak all over again. Thoughts of using him to get into trouble flew from her head. In his arms tonight on the rickety bridge where they used to sit for hours as children, for the first time in her life, she had felt one hundred percent loved.
