I See London 1 (35 page)

“Now’s your chance.” My voice was breathless as I reached down, grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head.

For a moment I simply stared. My gaze devoured Samir’s body. My fingers itched to reach out and touch his skin, to press my flesh against his. I wanted to kiss him, to run my tongue along his skin.

I ran my fingers along his chest, tracing the skin there, running my hand down over his flat stomach. My fingers hovered just above the waistband of his jeans.

Samir groaned.

I bent down, pressing a swift kiss to his collarbone. I licked the skin there, nibbling at his chest, my mouth working its way down his body.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since the night we played rummy. And before.”

Samir groaned.

I was going on pure instinct now, indulging every rush of desire. We’d been dancing around this for so many months. Now I wanted what I had only dreamed about.

I stroked downward with my hand, over his flat stomach, molding the shape of his arousal underneath his jeans. Samir pulled back at my touch. My hand hovered in midair, caught between us. Samir’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths. His eyes blazed with intensity.

“God help me, Maggie, if you’re going to stop, you have to tell me now. Because I won’t be able to stop if this goes any further. So you have to decide. Is this what you want?”

I paused for a moment, staring at my outstretched hand. My fingers curved into my palm. I waited for the usual array of questions to run through my head. Waited for the doubt. Instead there was just silence. Whatever doubts or questions I had were gone. It wasn’t the wine talking this time. Instead it was me.

I’d never felt more in control.

My gaze met his, my heart thudding at the lust I saw blazing there. I was pretty sure it mirrored the look in mine. I reached down, lacing my fingers with his. He brought our joined hands to his lips, pressing a swift kiss there.

I knew.

“I’m sure.”

Samir’s eyes closed for a moment. He shifted me off of his lap. His voice filled with desire. “Come upstairs. I want you in my bed.”

That was all the invitation I needed.

We pulled our shirts back on, dressing quickly, struggling to look presentable despite the fact that our hair was mussed, our lips swollen. I took Samir’s hand, the feeling of our fingers laced together inexplicably right. We’d held hands enough now throughout the past year that this felt familiar—comfortable, even. And yet exciting at the same time.

I felt alive. And I felt safe.

I followed Samir up the first flight of stairs, grateful for the late hour and the fact that most students had already left for the summer. Whatever this was, I didn’t want anyone else to know about it. I wasn’t ready to deal with the questions or judgment. Tonight was just about us.

It was a slow process to get up to his room. Every few steps Samir would snag an arm around my waist, pulling my body flush against his. He would nibble on my lips, my ear, cupping my breasts with his free hand, teasing my nipples, pressing his body against me.

I’d never wanted anything as much as I wanted him.

We reached the top of the stairs, turning down the hall until we stopped in front of the door to his room. It was strange that in a year I had never been up here. Curiosity filled me.

Samir broke apart to punch in the code to the room. Our bodies brushed against each other as he held the door open for me. Anticipation filled me.

The room was dark, slivers of moonlight escaping from the blinds. He didn’t move to turn on the light. Instead, Samir sat down on the bed, kicking off his shoes and lying back against his pillows. He crossed his ankles, stretching out his legs. His eyes watched me.

The air crackled with anticipation.

I stood in the middle of the room, studying my surroundings. His room was a lot like ours, only smaller and a single. There were no pictures of family or friends. Just a flat-screen TV propped against the wall. As much as I couldn’t wait to jump him, I couldn’t help indulging my curiosity about how he lived. I wanted to know everything about him.

The soft sound of house music punctuated the night. I turned. Samir pressed a few buttons on a small stereo next to his bed. The beat of the song matched the pounding in my blood, the music perfect for the night. My heartbeat sped up. The music wound its way into me as I stared at Samir across the room. His stare tracked my every move.

“Come here.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but I heard the intensity behind it. His voice was soaked with lust.

He looked so comfortable there on the bed. It seemed like the most natural thing for me to join him, for my body to curve against his.

The first stirring of nerves filled me. My legs carried me forward as I joined him on the bed. I sat on the edge, staring down at his face, marveling at how long his eyelashes were, at the deep brown color of his eyes. I reached out a hand to trace his caramel-colored skin.

I eased myself down onto the bed, my body lying next to his. Our faces were mere inches apart. His hand reached out, his fingers tracing the curve and shape of my face. With each touch he seemed to memorize me. The sounds of our breathing mixed with the low, heavy beat of the music.

Samir shifted in the bed. He leaned over me, his lips joining mine. His weight settled against my body. I gave myself over to his lips, to the touch of his hands roaming all over my flesh.

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, exploring each other’s bodies. He undressed me layer by layer, stripping away whatever inhibitions remained. When he pulled off my top and released my breasts from my bra, I felt only delicious anticipation.

He leaned down, his mouth covering one nipple, his hands working the other breast, teasing and stroking.

“Finally,” he murmured against my skin.

I moaned.

My body was wet, wild for him. There was an ache building inside me, an ache only he could ease.

His head lifted from my breast, his gaze meeting mine.

The intensity of Samir’s stare nearly undid me. I felt beautiful, as though he saw me differently than I saw myself. I felt like I could be me, not some girl pretending to be older or cooler, but me.

He saw
me.

Samir reached down, his hands fumbling between us, unbuttoning my jeans, pulling the zipper down. It struck me then, as his hands shook with the movements, that he was nervous.

A soft smile spread across my lips.

I lifted my hips, allowing him to pull the denim from my body until a thin scrap of black lace was the only thing I wore. I reached over, unbuttoning Samir’s jeans, cursing at the long row of buttons. My fingers shook as I struggled to undo each one. With each movement, my hand brushed against the weight of his arousal.

My mouth was dry with anticipation.

When I reached the last button, Samir tugged the jeans off, exposing a pair of black boxer briefs.

“Straddle me.”

Desire filled me.

I shifted my body, swinging my legs around Samir. Only the thin layers of our underwear separated our bodies. I rocked against him—once, twice—reveling in the feel of his body beneath mine. I leaned down, capturing his mouth in a long slow kiss.

His hands stroked my bare skin, lighting a fire with their path. Slowly his hands journeyed downward, moving to cup my ass, squeezing.

Samir tossed me a grin. “You have a gorgeous ass.”

I grinned back at him.

I stilled when he reached the edge of my thong. All traces of laughter fled. My skin tingled as his thumbs hooked under the lace.

For a moment his fingers hovered there, a question in his eyes. “We can stop if you want.”

Stopping was the furthest thing from my mind. “Don’t you dare.” I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing our bodies together, kissing him with all the passion and intensity I felt. Samir tugged on the edge of my thong, drawing it down over my hips. I raised my hips, helping him until the black lace slid off my legs.

Samir moved, turning on his side, bringing my body with him so we faced each other.

He kissed me, his hand drifting down my stomach, dipping into my belly button before moving further. His fingers stroked me, sliding inside me, sinking into wetness and warmth. I moaned, the feeling unfamiliar and yet everything I wanted. I could feel the intensity building there, felt the need for a release. I was hot all over, desperate for him.

I pulled at his boxers, sliding them off over his hips. I wanted to feel his skin against me. I wanted to feel all of him. I wanted him inside me, filling me, pushing me over the edge.

There were plenty of moments when I could have stopped things. And the more time we spent in bed together, the more sober I became. I didn’t feel pressure to put out, to keep him interested. He wasn’t my boyfriend; I didn’t have to worry he would lose interest and leave. I was just a girl, lying down next to a boy. It wasn’t part of a plan and it wasn’t going to turn into anything. He had no expectations of me, or I of him. But I trusted him. I was with him because I wanted it.

I had never felt more powerful.

Samir broke away from me, reaching over to the drawer and pulling out a condom. Thanks to all my near misses with Hugh, I was on the pill. Despite that, I wasn’t completely ready to throw caution to the wind. And I wasn’t stupid. Whatever he said about his reputation, I knew he wasn’t a Boy Scout.

I watched as he rolled the condom on, his expression fierce.

“Are you sure?” Samir asked again, his hand reaching out and squeezing mine. He pressed a swift kiss to my lips.

“Yes.”

His lips found mine in a fierce kiss. He slid his body between my legs, wrapping my ankles around his back. There was a moment of adjustment, of delicious anticipation. And then little by little, he slid inside me, fitting our bodies together, filling me up completely.

And then I wasn’t a virgin anymore.

I had always thought the moment I finally had sex would be momentous. That in that instant, I would feel transformed, like a new person. No longer a kid but now an adult. I thought it would make me feel different. Like so many things, the reality was much different.

It wasn’t anything like I expected. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Just a twinge. A tightness. And then it was gone, replaced by something so foreign and yet completely natural. It felt right to be joined with Samir, our bodies locked together, a thin film of sweat covering our skin.

“You okay?”

I nodded, words failing me. I was so much better than okay. I felt alive. I was filled with a sense of awareness that everything would change from here on out. Not because I had sex. Because I had taken a chance, thrown caution to the wind. I had broken a rule I had set for myself. And I didn’t feel like a good girl anymore.

I was okay with that.

Samir began moving inside me, the movement exquisite. With each thrust, the pressure inside me built, each stroke sending a thrill down my body. He slid in and out of me, his gaze locked with mine, setting a rhythm my body naturally followed. The pressure rose inside of me, the tempo building, until everything came crashing down and I rode the wave of my first orgasm, tremors slamming through my body. Samir’s gaze darkened, his movements increasing, quicker now, until words in Arabic spilled from his mouth. His body clenched inside mine. For a moment he was still, his weight pushing me into the mattress, his body covering mine until it was difficult to tell when his flesh ended and mine began. He stayed like that for a moment before he rolled off of me, our bodies still joined, bringing me to lie on my side, facing him.

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. His hand stroked my hair.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my breasts rubbing against the hair on his chest. I grinned. “That was kind of amazing.”

‘Amazing’ was the understatement of the year.

Samir kissed me, slowly, his tongue curling inside my mouth. “Good thing we have all night.”

Desire flooded me.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. It was just sex. Just one night. That was all I needed.

Hours later I felt asleep in Samir’s arms, his fingers laced with mine, our hands pressed against my heart.

Chapter 51

“Flight 2810 to Charlotte, North Carolina, will begin boarding shortly.”

My head jerked up at the flight announcement. I stared down at my watch, my eyelids drooping slightly. Twenty more minutes. In twenty minutes I would be back on a plane, headed home.

Not that South Carolina even felt like home anymore. I wasn’t sure what did.

I stared down at my phone for what felt like the hundredth time. No new messages. I wasn’t sure what I even expected. One night. That was all I wanted. All I still wanted.

It was stupid of me to wonder if Samir would text.

When I’d finally left his room, it was six a.m. He’d kissed me softly before I slipped out of bed, mumbling something about staying. I was fairly sure he’d been half-awake. We hadn’t let loose of each other all night.

In the clear light of day, last night felt more pronounced. What seemed unimportant under the cover of darkness now made me feel as if I was wearing a bright neon sign, blinking to announce I was no longer a virgin. I was pretty sure everyone in the airport could see it, that everyone knew what I had done. Not only lost my virginity in a one-night stand but even worse, lost my virginity in a one-night stand to a
guy who had a girlfriend.
I had broken every rule in the girl code. Three times.

I couldn’t even say I’d forgotten about the girlfriend. She’d been there, somewhere in the periphery of my mind. I’d pushed her out. She’d been in the way of something I wanted. And for the first time in my life I hadn’t hesitated; I’d taken.

I was equal parts ashamed and proud.

“Now boarding zone A for flight 2810 to Charlotte.”

I stared down at my ticket. That was me. I gathered up all of my crap—my purse, carry-on, the giant bag of mint Aero bubbles that served as my breakfast, along with the issue of British
Glamour
with the headline, Will He Still Respect You in the Morning?