“I never thought I’d see it,” Omar commented.
I tore my gaze away from Samir. “See what?”
“You have him by the balls.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Oh, come on. You know it, too.”
My eyes narrowed. I wasn’t sure if he was complimenting me or insulting me. With Omar, it was hard to tell. He was Samir’s sidekick for a reason; he had all of Samir’s dickish qualities and none of his charm.
“I’m pretty sure no one has Samir by the balls.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Omar was silent for a moment. “Just be careful with him, okay?”
Surprise filled me. That was not what I expected.
“He’s a good guy.”
I found Samir again, leaning against the bar. Just the sight of him sent a funny thrill through my body and made my heart clench.
“I know.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Maggie
“WE’RE HEADING OUT.”
Fleur grimaced. “Fair enough. Sorry about your Valentine’s Day.”
I shook my head. “It was fun.”
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, wiping away a smudged corner of my mouth where my lipstick had been disturbed by Samir’s kiss. Fleur stood next to me, adjusting the top of her dress.
“Are you going to be okay if we leave?”
She shrugged. “I guess so.”
I looked around. Two other girls—freshmen I thought—were deep in conversation. Besides them, the bathroom was all clear.
“You need to dump him.”
Fleur sighed. “I know.”
“It doesn’t make you the bad guy if things aren’t working. You tried. You’ve tried really hard. But you can’t force chemistry. If you don’t feel that way about him, then you need to tell him. I know I encouraged you, but I just wanted to see you happy. You’re not happy, and the longer you drag this out, the harder it will be for him when you dump him.”
“I know.”
“But whatever you do, just don’t do it tonight. A Valentine’s Day breakup is a terrible idea.”
“I’m not that mean,” Fleur protested.
“I know you aren’t.” I hugged her. “Hang in there. It’s going to be okay.” I hesitated for a moment, not sure if I should mention the whole Max thing or not. Samir wasn’t exactly the most observant person I’d ever met... but he was a guy.
“Has Max been weird around you lately?”
She made a face. “No more than usual. Why?”
There was no love lost between them. And I liked Max. For all Fleur claimed to be a reformed, nicer version of herself, I did wonder if she would tease him mercilessly if she found out he had been checking her out.
I shook my head. “No reason.”
Samir
“FINALLY ALONE.”
I put my arms around Maggie, drawing her back against my body.
“You smell good,” I murmured.
She laughed. “I’ve been dancing in a nightclub. Somehow I doubt that.”
“You do.” I released her, walking toward my room. I fumbled with the door, pushing it open. I froze.
Soft music played from my stereo speakers. Flowers covered the floor. Some sort of candle lights lit up the room.
Behind me, Maggie gasped. “Did you do this?”
“No, I didn’t.” I closed the door behind us, momentarily perplexed.
“This is amazing.”
A bottle of Cristal sat propped up on a bucket of ice on my desk and awareness dawned. I grinned. “I’m guessing this was Fleur.”
It was fucking brilliant. It was romantic enough that it would set the perfect mood, but because I hadn’t arranged it, Maggie wouldn’t freak out. I made a mental note to thank Fleur later.
Maggie grinned. “She’s kind of incredible, isn’t she?”
“She is.” I looped my arms around her waist, pulling Maggie’s body against mine. “You’re pretty incredible, too.”
“Mmm.”
I pulled back, surprised by the force of the emotions coming at me. She was so beautiful—and I wasn’t just talking about her face or body. There was something else about her. Something that drew me to her like a moth to a flame.
I was falling for her. Hard.
I’d never been in love before. Never really expected to fall in love. I’d liked lots of girls. Wanted them. Lusted after them. Enjoyed them. But love...I’d never counted on that.
“What’s wrong?”
I struggled to keep things light between us. “Nothing.”
I held her tightly, resting my chin on her head, tucking her against my body. I couldn’t speak—there were no words, no jokes—I had nothing. Anything I could say or do just felt inadequate in this moment.
We had three months left.
Maggie
SOMETHING HAD CHANGED between us. I just didn’t know what. We stood in the middle of the room, my body engulfed by Samir’s. Neither one of us spoke. It was as if we both sensed something had shifted in our relationship and neither one of us wanted to disturb it.
It was easy to get lost in the moment—in sex, in laughter, in all the little distractions surrounding us. But this? Just standing with each other, silently, brought on a whole other level of intimacy. Conversation was easy; the silence was hard.
Minutes passed with our bodies locked before Samir reached down, joining his hand with mine. He brought our linked hands up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against my knuckles.
I stared into his eyes, surprised by what I saw there—uncertainty, maybe. And emotion. A lot of emotion. The kind of emotion I knew was mirrored in my own eyes.
For a moment, I wondered if I wasn’t alone in my feelings—if he loved me too.
My hand dropped to my side and our mouths met. At first I just brushed my lips against his, but then the kiss grew more insistent, demanding. There was no slow or easy with Samir. It was desperate and hungry and before I knew it, I was losing control.
He stripped away my clothes, layer by layer, baring me before him. But this time, when he looked at me, it felt different. It felt like more, like we’d created our own little world and for a moment it felt impenetrable. I was too scared to say the words out loud, but my heart fairly screamed them—
I love you. I love you. I love you.
He laid me down on the bed, his body covering mine, pressing me down into the mattress. I looked up at him, losing myself in those brown eyes. His expression was solemn, his gaze filled with heat. This time there was no laughter, no teasing, no words.
Our bodies spoke where words would have failed us.
His lips covered every inch of my skin, kissing, nipping, licking—painting me, branding me with his mouth and tongue. My flesh was sensitive, every nerve in my body screaming for release. Heat flooded my limbs, sending a flush over my bare skin.
His hands were exquisite torture. He was rough and gentle, his touch creating conflicting sensations I couldn’t quite catch up with. Each stroke sent me closer and closer to the edge, walking a fine line between pleasure and pain. But wasn’t that the heart of everything between us?
He made me feel so much it hurt.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Samir
“WHAT DO YOU want to do for spring break?”
Maggie eyed me warily, shades of the Vienna fiasco rushing back to me.
“I thought I’d stay here. Get ready for finals.”
She would start studying two months in advance.
“That’s a really boring answer.”
“Well, I guess I’m boring, then.” She rolled over in bed, pulling the covers up under her chin.
She looked adorable lying there, some goopy thing covering her face. I reached out, skimming my finger across her cheekbone. My finger came back covered in a weird green substance.
“You look like an alien.” A pretty cute alien, but still.
“I told you I had to do a mask.”
“You didn’t
mention you’d be green.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “This is why I wanted a girls’ night with Mya and Fleur.”
“And why couldn’t Fleur hang out?”
“She’s breaking up with George. And Mya is hanging out with her mom.”
“Finally. I was getting sick of being fake nice to that guy.”
“You were never fake nice to him.”
“True. But I felt like I should be and that was annoying as hell.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why do I like you again?”
I laughed. “Because I adore you. And you see past my shallow outer shell.”
“Hmm. Maybe.”
“So about spring break...”
“I’m not going anywhere for spring break.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t afford it.”
“What if it were free?”
“It wouldn’t be completely free. There would be some cost associated with it.”
“Some cost associated with it—are you trying to turn me on?”
Maggie snorted. “You’re sick. I’m actually worried you’re some kind of sex-crazed—”
“Hey, if I’m sex crazed, it’s your fault. And stop distracting me. Spring break.”
She sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Why? Why is this so important to you?”
I wasn’t sure she wanted to know the truth. The idea had been in my head since Valentine’s Day. I could pretty much predict her reaction, so like most things, I was trying to maneuver her into it. So far, not so good.
“Because it’s my last spring break.” That was partly true. “And we had such a great time last year. Remember?”
Her gaze softened. “Paris was fun.”
Paris had been amazing. I’d loved getting to show her the city and take her around to my favorite spots. I’d never forget the look on her face the first time she saw the Eiffel Tower twinkling at night. I wanted to see that look again.
“It would be a group thing,” I added hastily. I would have preferred having Maggie to myself, but her aversion to trips was still fresh in my mind. “Fleur, Omar, Mya, if she wants to come. Maybe Michael.”
“That could be fun.”
“You said it yourself, Fleur’s just broken up with George. It would probably be good for her to get away for a bit, have a distraction away from everything that’s been going on this year. The flight would be free—we could take my father’s plane.”
She pulled a face. “I don’t think taking your dad’s plane is the same thing as free.”
I shrugged. “Close enough. We don’t even have to spend money on a hotel.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Where do you want to go for spring break?”
Here came the hard sell.
“Lebanon.”
Maggie
FOR A SECOND, I was pretty sure I’d heard wrong. I waited for him to say something else. Lisbon, maybe. Hell, even Libya felt less strange—his family wasn’t in Libya. But he didn’t say something else. He just stared at me expectantly.
“Well?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, did you say Lebanon?”
“Maybe.”
“As in, ‘go to Lebanon because your parents are going to be in France then?’”
“As in, ‘go to Lebanon and my parents might be there but that’s not a big deal, right?’”
“You want me to meet your parents?” We couldn’t seriously be having this conversation.
“I met your dad and your grandparents.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“They’re normal.”
Samir laughed. “And my parents are what, exactly?”
In my mind? Utterly terrifying.
“I don’t know. You never talk about them, really.”
“Well, there’s a reason for that. We’re not close.”
So why did he want me to go meet them? Why now? He was leaving in two months. Who cared if I met his parents or not? I didn’t understand where he was coming from, what he wanted or expected from me.
“It just kind of seems like a recipe for disaster,” I admitted. “I mean, I’m the girl you broke up with your Lebanese girlfriend for. The Lebanese girlfriend they wanted you to marry.” The word stuck in my throat and left a bitter taste in my mouth.
It was a sensitive subject with me. I knew his family was pushing him to get married when he returned to Lebanon. It was hard enough to imagine Samir leaving, much less dating someone else. The idea of him getting married was a knot in my stomach I couldn’t seem to work out.
“I want you to see my home. My country.”
I did, too. But it felt momentous and potentially disastrous, and I couldn’t help but think this would be the final straw that illuminated how little I fit into his world.
I sighed. “It just feels like we should be slowing things down a bit.”
“Is that what you want?”
I wanted to stop time. I wanted to steal more. I wanted him to stay in London, to do a master’s. I wanted to figure out where we were headed without the pressure of a ticking clock.
“No. I don’t know.”
“Come to Lebanon. It’ll be fun. I promise. I want you to see it. I want to be able to share it with you.”
I wasn’t sure what the right answer was; I didn’t even know what I really wanted. But there was something in his voice—an uncertainty, maybe—that made my decision for me. And I’d never been good at telling him no.
“Okay.”
* * *
I’D SPENT HOURS grilling Fleur on Samir’s parents. It hadn’t helped. In classic Fleur fashion, she hadn’t minced words.
“They’re probably going to hate you.”
“Gee, thanks. That helps loads.”
“I’m not trying to be mean—I’m just being realistic. They’re not exactly warm people.”
Samir hadn’t been much better.
I couldn’t figure out why he wanted us to go to Lebanon so badly. It felt like an audition of sorts, which made me even more nervous. At the same time, I couldn’t help wondering what the point was. I doubted they would be happy to meet me. And I dreaded it.
Samir reached across the airplane seat, squeezing my hand. “Are you okay?”
I forced a smile on my face. “Sure.”
“You don’t sound okay.” He hesitated. “Are you regretting this?”
Was he insane? “Yes. Absolutely. With the fire of a thousand suns.”
His lips twitched. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“Like this was quite possibly the worst idea ever. Like your parents are going to hate me.”
The idea had been rolling around in my head the whole five-hour plane ride. I could already predict his response. But I was just freaked out enough to try.
“Listen, what if we—”
“No.”
I glared at him. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Sure I do. You were going to say we should pretend we aren’t really dating and we’re just friends because my parents are going to hate you because you’re American and in their eyes, all wrong for me.”
I groaned. “You’re so annoying. I’m trying to make a point here.”
“So am I,” Samir replied, his expression smug. “I know you. I know what you’re thinking, what you’re afraid of. Maybe we look strange together, maybe we aren’t expected, but we’re right for each other. You know it and I know it. I don’t care what my parents have to say about it.”
“Is that what this is?” I asked. “You thumbing your nose at your parents? You bringing home a girl you know they’ll hate?”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I was stressed and spoiling for a fight.
I wished we’d flown commercial with everyone else. Something about us arriving together like this—on Samir’s father’s plane—felt too official. Like the final nail in the coffin. More than
anything, I was afraid Samir would start to see me through their eyes.
“Don’t assume you know what I’m thinking and feeling just because you’re scared. Don’t think I’m doing the worst possible thing so you can brace yourself for some unknown future disappointment. Don’t push me away. Not after everything.”
I gaped at him. Because yeah, I totally did that.
“I told you.” His expression was triumphant. “I know you.”
His words did funny things to me. He made them sound so intimate, almost naughty. He might as well have been saying, “I know you, I’ve seen you naked, licked Cristal out of your belly button, lost myself inside you, watched you fall asleep, made you come so hard you screamed.”
Which he had.
He squeezed my hand. “Stop freaking out.”
I hated when he did this, hated when he managed me. It was unfair that he was so good at it. Unfair that he always knew exactly which buttons to push.
“I’m not freaking out.”
“You are. You’re doing that thing you do with your hair when you’re stressed.”
“What thing?”
“You twist your hair around your finger in these crazy curls.”
My hand froze in midair. “This is starting to feel a little creepy.”
“Why, because someone knows you—your habits, your quirks? I must be a pervert.”
“Or an asshole,” I muttered irritably.
Samir laughed. “Why? Because I won’t indulge your crazy?” He leaned over and kissed me. “You’re not some dirty little secret I want to hide or some scheme to provoke my parents. I want you to come to Lebanon because I want you to see where I grew up.” His voice was almost shy. “I got to see where you were from. I want you to have the same chance.”
I felt like an idiot, or the asshole I’d just accused him of being. He tripped me up. Often. Just when I thought I had him figured out, he threw me for a loop.
“Besides, I’ve never gotten laid in my childhood room.”
And then he was right back to his devilish self.
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