“Why are you wearing that?” he asked.
“We’re in a Muslim country.” Her tone saidduh.
“We’re not in Saudi. I think you’ll be okay.”
“It’s respectful,” she said.
He shrugged. If she wanted to cover her head, he wasn’t going to argue. Grabbing the key from the slot on the wall, he held the door open for her.
She stepped out of the suite. “I don’t have any money.”
“It’s covered.” He closed the door and headed to the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.
“I don’t have any ID, either,” she said.
He pushed the down button and smiled at her. “Don’t get arrested.”
She glared.
He grinned.
The elevator dinged and they entered the car. It stopped half-way down and two men dressed in traditional dishdashas boarded. The assholes gave Emme a once over.
Jordan moved her closer to the corner and stood in front of her, blocking her from view. He folded his arms across his chest and glared at the backs of the two men, daring them to look at her. The doors opened on the ground floor and he waited for the men to exit ahead of them before reaching for Emme’s hand.
“That was a very impressive display of manliness. My virtue is suitably defended.”
He glare at her. “They shouldn’t have been staring.”
“Oh, please. That was mild compared to some of the things that’ve happened back home.”
“They were out of line.”
“Jordan.” She stopped and pulled her hand out of his.
He immediately missed having her slender fingers in his. “They were curious. They didn’t leer or make any comments. I’ve been called a bitch because I said ‘no, thank you’ when a guy told me to smile.”
“What the fuck?”
Her head fell back as if praying for patience and she set her hand on her hip. He braced for the display of temper he knew was coming. Emme had never been one to hold back when they were younger.This should be good.
Instead, she dropped her hand and turned in a slow circle, her face alight with wonder. “Oh my god,” she whispered.
Sweet baby Jesus, his dick throbbed at the tone of her voice. An imagine flashed through his mind — Emme spread out under him, writhing and moaning those same words while he was buried balls deep.
Two weeks.Fuck.
He looked up, trying to figure out what held her in thrall. “What?” His voice had a bite he didn’t intend.
She stopped spinning. “The ceiling.”
He looked back up. In the center of the lobby, the ceiling arched up several stories, creating a rough dome of marble. “What about it?”
Her head snapped up. “Seriously? It’s beautiful.”
He shrugged. “If you say so.”
Her mouth opened and closed twice. “If I— Look at it. It’s a work of art.”
