Cross the Stars (Crossing Stars #1)

by Venessa Kimball

  As he pulls away and teases me with more, his lips hovering over mine, he whispers, “I will make it worth your time, Ms. Wallace, I promise.”

  The sound of the door unlocking and the Raj slipping away through it leaves me breathless.

  The rest of the day, I am distracted by both the pending ride home and the dangers Raj’s mind is afflicted by. So much affliction he has lost sleep. I see Jasara sitting at a table with Rushdi and Laila. I wave from our table and notice they are eating food left from the bedouin feast Raj had delivered to the house. I didn’t get a chance to thank him this morning.

  Tom meets with the volunteers and staff after the children leave for the day. I don’t see Raj among the group that has come together in the cafeteria. “I won’t keep you, but I have some exciting news to share. It seems we have an invitation to attend a celebration.” His smile is taunting as some of the volunteers call to him.

  “Come on!”

  “Don’t tease us!”

  Sticking with his torment, he says, “It really isn’t that big of a deal, I suppose. I could always decline.” He starts to walk away as the volunteers all call for him to come back. He turns around lazily and smiles. “Okay, okay.”

  He pulls out a card from his back pant pocket, reads it, squints, then looks up at us, ashamed. “I think I need my glasses.” He starts patting his shirt, his pant pockets. “Where are my glasses?”

  The volunteers are belligerent at this point, unable to contain their need to know. I even call out, “Just read it!”

  He holds his hands up in surrender and squints as he reads the invitation. “You have been cordially invited to a celebration in honor of your servitude and duty to Caritas and WorldTeach by Your Highness the King and Her Majesty the Queen of Jordan.”

  The volume of the room rises so quickly, I can’t hear the rest of the invitation, but I’m not really listening; the excitement in the room is running too high for me to hear anything other than cheering and whistling.

  As we all leave the cafeteria, I head in the opposite direction of everyone else toward the rear doors to the alley, when Ana asks, “Ella, where are you going?”

  “Oh, I forgot something in the room. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay, bye.” She smiles and goes out the front doors of the center.

  My brisk and concealed walk to the back door gives time for my excitement of meeting the King and Queen of Jordan to wear off and my anxiety of meeting the parents of the man I am having a forbidden affair with to expand exponentially.

  As I open the door to the alley, I see the black-on-black SUV parked and running in front of me. With the shock hitting me, I stand still as the driver gets out and opens the door for me. Once my eyes meet Raj’s the anxiety falls away enough for my feet to start moving. I get in and the driver closes the door behind me.

  Raj is sitting on the far end of the truck, his hand framing the side of his head as he leans against the window sill. “Hi.”

  “Hi.”

  The truck drives on as soon as the driver shuts his door. All of a sudden, a wall of darkened glass starts to rise between the front seats and Raj and me. As the glass climbs, Raj watches me with the sexiest fucking allure; I clench my legs from the tension already mounting between them. The glass seals in seconds and we are left alone.

  “I made you a promise earlier.” His voice is throaty, carnal as his gaze enraptures me as it has many times, but still never enough. I want it to feel this for eternity.

  “Yeah, you did.”

  He makes his move, leaning over the center console, cupping my cheek in his hand, drawing my mouth to his as he teases my lips with his breath.

  “Yeah, I did.”

  His lips find mine, and his mouth, combined with the touch of his fingers grazing my breasts as he undoes my blouse, ignites a spark inside of me, a maddening longing for him to set me free. I take over unbuttoning the rest of my blouse, undoing my bra and letting it fall to the ground as his tongue dances with mine. His hands find the waistband of my pants and tug as I urge both my panties and pants down, breaking our kiss to do so, but never the coveting, purely ravenous watch we have set in place.

  Completely naked, I move toward him only for him to stop me. “Wait.” His breath is ragged as he scans my body. “I want to see you.” His hand reaches for my face, unable to let what he is gazing upon be untouched. The warmth of his hands set fire to every inch of my skin he runs it along the length of my neck, the center of my chest, cupping my breast and running the pad of his thumb along my hardened nipple. I arch my back, leaning into his maneuvers, needing to be felt by him.

  He shakes his head as he studies every part of me. “I need you, Ella, more than the blood that courses through my veins.”

  He takes hold of my waist and brings me to him, my thighs straddling his. As I slide down against him, my tender skin runs against his pants, melting me deeper onto the solidity of his cock.

  “I want you inside of me, Raj,” I say between peppered kisses of passion as I blindly work on unlatching his belt. Like my demand and touch have called on a primal beast, he takes his hands from me and he breathes fiery breath onto my breasts, tugging at his belt, his button, and zipper, each sound inching me closer to the fulfillment of him inside of me. In one movement, he grips my hip bones and slides me down onto him, taking me to the hilt.

  “Oh fuck, Raj!” I call out breathlessly as the satiety of his throbbing dick and the rhythm of the truck in motion heightens the bliss. I can’t contain the fervent euphoria as I reach for him, gripping his dark hair, running it through my fingers as his strong hands clutch my hips, bringing me to rise and fall on this salacious and fleshy wave he is commanding.

  “Yes, baby, I want you to feel every fucking inch of me. Every single thrust.” He pushes deep inside. “Every single shift.” He tilts his hips up angling deeper, hitting the spot meant to send me into the erotic spin I am begging for now.

  “Yes, Raj.”

  He pulls back from me, gazing into my eyes as he clenches my hip with one hand and cups my face with the other, the animal in him unleashed as we stare into each other’s eyes and ride together, harder, faster, wanting to see the other feel the pleasure we are pursuing.

  The throbbing wave hits me just as he leans his head back against the headrest. “Ahhh, I’m going to fucking come!” The painstaking expression I have given him uncoils me quickly. “Oh, Raj! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

  As if my words are a command over him, he reaches for me, pulling me into him, clutching his arms around me as his throbbing cycles me through an ebb and flow of sublime ecstasy.

  Both of us sway with the motion of the car as we catch our breath, cleansed by our pursuit of rapture.

  While our undressing was haphazard, our redressing was slow and nurturing as we found every opportunity to teach other. His warm touch, his kisses on my shoulder as he fastened my bra, running his nose against my throat as he helped me button my shirt. While the foreplay was speedy, the post-sex caresses are conscious and intentional, his touches warm as he fastens my bra and runs his hands along my thighs after helping me shimmy into my panties. He buttons my blouse while I button his shirt, unable to keep our smiles concealed from what we had just done.

  “So, did I fulfill my promise?” His question gives rise to the grin deepening his dimple.

  I look up at him brazenly, running my tongue over my lips and rubbing them together. “Yes, completely and thoroughly.”

  He cups my cheek, running his thumb against it. “Every moment with you in this world is immeasurable, Ella.”

  He kisses me tenderly once more, before we each take turns making sure we are clothed properly. Raj knocks on the mirrored partition separating us from the driver. As the dark-tinted glass slides down, I feel the heat of humility rise on my face as Raj and the driver speak. Raj asks him to circle back to the Ba’ashirs home, reminding me of what he had done for them and the Ahmadis. “Thank you for bringing the bedouin feast for them.�
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  Raj bows his head to me. “They have done so much for the volunteers and the refugees, taking in the Ahmadi family, taking care of you.”

  I don’t know why I’m surprised he knows the last name of the refugee family living with the Ba’ashirs. Raj’s dedication to this program and the people involved becomes more apparent as I watch his interaction with the people at the center.

  “The program you have funded has given them hope and support. Some of the lives you have changed just by bringing us here ... They were barely surviving and now they have found a safe place at the center. You have brought this to them.”

  I didn’t think I would be able to formulate what I truly think of Raj and what he has done, but I think I have done a good job.

  His eyes fall for a moment, his modesty emblematic of the type of man he is, not wanting to steal the focus. “More should be done.”

  “The King and Queen?” I ask him, wondering if they are holding him back from seeing more ways of helping.

  He stares out the window into the streets, a seriousness cast over him. “No, they see my vision. My brother Zaid ... he has a difference of opinion. Other ideas.”

  It doesn’t surprise me Zaid is the chink in the chain. As we enter into the Ba’ashirs neighborhood, I try to lighten the subject sensing this one has brought him down. “Tom told us about the celebration. Did you plan it?”

  As he looks back at me, worry in his eyes, he takes my hand in his and intertwines our fingers. “It was Zaid’s idea.”

  “And that is a bad thing?”

  Raj looks from our joined hands into my eyes.

  Feeling he isn’t understanding me, I explain. “Maybe he is trying to do something nice.”

  Raj raises our linked fingers and rests his lips on mine and closes his eyes. I’m not the praying type, but if I was to, I would think that Raj’s posture might signify him asking his God for something important. His eyes open and seek mine in silence. “Are you not looking forward to the celebration?”

  His smile is weak, but visible, softening my concern for what is bother him. “If you will be there, I am definitely excited.”

  He kisses my fingers again, then places his other hand on top of them. His words are a reminder of him and me being in the same room among the Caritas staff, WorldTeach volunteers, and the royalty he calls family. We won’t be able to interact, needing to keep discretion at the forefront of our every move, every expression.

  As we turn onto to the Ba’ashirs’ street, Raj asks, “I will send Badir to take you to and from the center. What time should he arrive?”

  I’m confused with what he is telling me. “Like tomorrow?”

  He looks at me pointedly. “Tomorrow, the next day, and the next, and so on.”

  I laugh a little at his explanation and demand. He knows it gets to me. “No, I think I will walk.”

  The humor I try to display is lost to him as the visible unease of my joke has hardened his face and his resolve. “Ella, please do not fight with me on this. I need you to be safe.”

  Even though the glint in his eyes and the sound of his voice alert a small amount of panic within me, I try to push it down and reason with him. “Raj, my walking down a street isn’t safe all of a sudden?”

  I think of what he had said earlier today. “Does this have to do with this morning?”

  He turns his whole body and leans across the console, cupping my face with his free hand as he pulls our clutched fingers to his chest. “I just need you to be careful and I don’t trust that will happen without security. The conditions are changing in Amman and I don’t want anything happening to you.” He kisses me gingerly. “Let me do this. Badir is the only one I trust with you.”

  He has to trust people with me now? “Is this because of my dad, the Congressman bullshit?”

  He shakes his head. “No, this is about you, Ella. I would not be able to live with myself if something were to happen to you. Just please do this one thing without an argument! Elayk! Fuck!”

  His obsessive and maddening rant in both English and Arabic has me upset and bewildered at the same time. How can he think anything would happen to me? I mean, he is the fucking Prince of Jordan, I’m a nobody here.

  I close the gap between us, kissing him gently over and over again, hoping that my alms and words will calm him. “Okay. I won’t fight. I’ll do it.”

  My solitary kisses are slowly returned as Raj cups the nape of my neck and locks his ever-rousing lips with mine. Before he overwhelms me, the truck stops, bringing our feverish ride to an end. As I move back from him, he watches me sleepily, like our passion has the same spellbound effect on him as it has on me. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  He nods slowly. “I will see you at the center.”

  I look into the rearview mirror, making eye contact with Badir for the first time since getting into the truck. Needless to say, my comfort level with Badir and salutations has changed since Raj’s and my ride. “Shukran, Badir.”

  “Walaw na’am sayyideti.”

  Him saying “Yes, ma’am” in Arabic brings me a sense of relief that I am not shunned because of what is obvious was happening back here between Raj and me.

  I open the door and step out, but before I can close the door Raj asks, “Will seven o’clock be fine?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “Ela al-lekaaʾ, Ella.”

  I had heard the romanticized version of goodbye in one of classes; it means “until next time.” I’d wanted a chance to use it and it just so happens to come from the very person I can’t wait to see again.

  “Ela al-lekaa’.”

  I close the door to the truck and walk to the front door of the Ba’ashirs, already missing his presence. When I open the door, Ameena and Laila are at the door, pulling me up the stairs giggling. “What is it?”

  “You will see,” Laila says as Ameena leads us up. “Mama! Hoda, she is here! Open it!”

  Once we are at the landing, I see Hoda and Jasara working in the kitchen. Hoda sets down her spatula and turns off the stove as Jasara finishes washing utensils in the sink, both drying their hands on their aprons. Ameena picks up a card from the table, but Ismad takes it from her and shakes his head, smiling as she playfully reaches for it.

  “Baba!” she begs him to open it in Arabic.

  “Tayyeb, Tayyeb Ameena,” he laughs as he raises it from her then swings it around to open the envelope.

  I’m not sure what we are all waiting for. “What is it?”

  “It is from the King and Queen of Jordan!” Uncle Nazeer says, smiling from the doorway dividing the kitchen from the living room.

  I smile a little, having an idea of what it is: the invitation for the celebration.

  “It was delivered by one of the King’s guards!” Ameena adds, her eyes wider than saucers and a smile to match.

  I widen my eyes and meet hers. “Really?”

  She nods eagerly as she watches her father hold money in one hand and a card in the other. “What does it say?”

  Ismad looks at Hoda, shock filling his face and the smile momentarily gone. “We have been invited to the Palace for a celebration.”

  “Mazha?” Hoda seems like she is about to cry, pained by what Ismad has just said. She walks toward him, wanting to read for herself. He repeats himself in Arabic to her. Ismad’s eyes gleam as his shock dissipates and he hands the invitations to Hoda. As she grips it with both hands, Ismad takes us all in.

  “We are invited to a celebration in our honor in three days!” Ismad holds the money in between his two hands. “They have given us money for clothing for the event!”

  Hoda covers her mouth with one hand as she passes the invitation to Jasara. “Lana?”

  “Naäam!” Hoda holds it to her, putting her arms around her. “Naaam!”

  Hoda suddenly begins to cry, then Jasara as she passes the invitation to Nazeer. “Nazeer!”

  He looks at the invitation and reads, “Ba’ashirs and Ahmadis.” He laughs with surpr
ise and excitement, his eyes widening as he hands it back to Ismad. They exchange a manly hug.

  Ismad hands me the invitation, but reading it would be an impossibility. My eyes have blurred and hazed from the tears I am shedding for the Ba’ashirs’ and Ahmadis’ elation.

  The last two days I hardly visited the center or saw Ella between my coordinating elements of the celebration with the Caritas director and Mr. Stern. With the number of staff, volunteers, and host families as well as the refugee families taken in by the host families, it has become too daunting of a task for my mother, and my brother happily obliged just as he had creating this event. I saw it as an excuse on my mother’s part to keep me away from the center.

  I’m able to break away twice in the days leading up to the celebration to see Ella in the cafeteria eating with her girls and again as I look in at her through her classroom door window. Both times I wait until she sees me so she knows I have wanted to see her. Badir has made sure to keep a close eye on her and since his loyalty was proven the evening he accompanied me to Sami’s looking for Tariq, I can trust he will not let anything happen to her. That is the only element keeping me from watching her every waking moment.

  “Where would you like the Cabinet and Prime Minister to sit?” Zaid asks as he studies the floor plan of the palace ballroom he has laid across my father’s meeting table in the office, my mother hovering over the print.

  “I would think as close to the King as possible. Ammaar, will you help us, my love?”

  I sit at the opposite end of the table watching Zaid take extreme interest in the seating arrangements, which is unlike anything my brother has ever done for a banquet or celebration in the past. If he wants to do floral arrangements next, I don’t give a shit. As long as I have him in my sights, I know he is not putting Ella in harm’s way.

  My father comes to the table with the use of his cane today, his hand trembling, shaking the cane as he clutches it. “Yes, my flower.”