‘I needed to see you alone,’ he breathes against my skin.
The dark corridor cocoons us, the muted sounds of the restaurant falling away. The warmth of his breath, the need in his words, causes me to shudder, longing expanding along my limbs. I wrap my arms around his neck and press my body further into his.
‘I can still smell you in my bed. It misses you.’
These stolen moments in the corridor, hushed words and unspoken promises, fill me, make my heart sing. I place my hands under his jacket, running them the length of his spine as he lowers his mouth to mine. I’m lost against him, savouring the tang of whiskey against his lips. He groans harshly, pushing one knee between my legs, pressing himself tightly against me.
‘What I wouldn’t do for five minutes alone with you,’ he rasps, pulling me closer still.
‘I’m not sure five minutes would be enough.’ I feel, rather than see, his smile.
‘Believe me, I’d make it so.’
‘I’m not sure my heart can take any more of your making it so.’
‘But you takesobeautifully.’
The words are more of a vibration than a sound, a tremor which hums to my bones. It’s times like now, when my hips sink into him and my knees weaken at his touch, I’m reminded how easy it’s been to fall for him. Just a touch, one slide of his lips and I’ll follow him like his little lap dog. One carelessly whispered command and I’m whipping off my clothes.
‘Excuse me. Sir, we have only twenty minutes. The traffic...’ Rashid’s deep voice murmurs from beyond the shadows.
Kai exhales in frustration, burrowing his head further into my neck. ‘My time isn’t my own today.’ Lifting his head, he murmurs, ‘I’ll call you. Tomorrow.’
I press my head against his sternum, concealing my disappointment and actually consider throwing my arms around his legs to prevent him leaving, like a small, belligerent child.
‘Things to see, people to do?’ I murmur, hopefully not too acerbically as Rashid coughs somewhere outside of our cocoon.
‘Something like that,’ he replies. ‘I really have to go.’ Kissing my cheek chastely, reluctance separates our bodies. ‘Ma’a salama,habibti.’
I exhale roughly, resting my head against the cool wall as he leaves, silencing the longing within. Tamping back the urge to stamp my feet in frustration, I try to gather my thoughts. As he turns the corner out of sight, I move. Niamh will be wondering where I am, plus I must look ridiculous, lounging against the wall.Or I might get mistaken for a prostitute.
Back at the table Niamh’s grin hovers like the Cheshire cat’s.
‘I’ll hand it to you—you’ve got taste.’
With a small flourish, I bow. ‘Haven’t I been trying to tell you?’
‘Apparently, the bill has been taken care of for the rest of the night, and look, the flash fecker’s ordered champagne for us.’
Sure enough, a waitress approaches the table, bottle in hand.
‘Compliments of Mr. Khalfan,’ she says as my phone chimes, alerting me to a text message as the bottle is corked. ‘Should I pour?’
‘Yes, please.’ I gesture distractedly and open my phone.
I have a text from Kai, south of my navel flexing at this words:If you must suffer, do it magnificently. Champagne & heels, fettered and lying in my bed, you are always magnificent, sweetheart. K x
‘Did you know this place is mad expensive?’ Niamh questions, pulling my attention from my phone.
‘What?’
‘This place—it’s fabulously pricey. And very snotty about who they let in. There was an article in the paper not long ago where someone’s bill came to over a hundred thousand dollars. Can you believe it? For one night! How the other half do live, eh?’ she adds with a laugh. ‘Shall we stay here for a bit? We’ve champagne and the night is but young.’ She waves her hand theatrically as the waitress turns from the table
‘Yeah, okay.’ I don’t fancy walking anywhere. These shoes aren’t meant for walking. I only wore them to get a rise out of Kai. The text is sort of a rise, I think.
The music seems to have increased below us and the lights have lowered in increments so gradually I’ve barely noticed at all. Niamh and I are relaxed and enjoying our girls’ night. Having polished off the champagne, we each order a cocktail when an urgent voice interrupts our conversation.
‘Sister... sister!’ We turn in the direction of the voice, a table or two away from ours. A lone guy sits gesticulating wildly, rudely clicking the fingers of one hand to gain the attention of a nearby waitress.
‘Visky, bring me visky!’ he yells, quite irate. The waitress approaches him reluctantly, not surprisingly, as he continues to berate her, fingers clicking still. ‘I am fingering you for five minutes andstillyou are not coming!’ he calls loudly.
‘In your dreams,’ the waitress murmurs as she passes our table.
Niamh and I look at each other, stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter.
‘Do they think having money makes them more attractive or something? Because that, my friend, is a proper two-bagger. A face so fugly, you’d need to put two bags on his head to do him, in case the first one falls off!’
‘Yep,’ I agree. ‘To use something from your lexicon, he’s got a head like a half-chewed toffee.’
We burst into gales of laughter, the evening just a little too much.
