it. Or him. I wanted to confide in Fleur. But if I did, I wasn’t just admitting to a one-night stand. It was so much worse. Yeah, he was still with his girlfriend when it happened. No, I don’t know if they’re still together. No, I don’t know if he likes me. Or if he regrets it. Or if he thinks about that night at all. No, we haven’t talked in one hundred and twenty-four days save for two texts, but who’s counting?
“I’m sorry, I think I’m just jet-lagged.” That, at least, wasn’t completely a lie. My flight from Charlotte to London had been particularly brutal. I stared back at the clock. Five minutes left.
Unfuckingbelievable.
I’d been camped out here for like four hours. No way I’d missed him. Was he avoiding me?
I sighed, pushing back my chair. I knew when to admit defeat. “I’m going to head up to the room and go to bed.”
“Can I join you?”
I froze, my entire body prickling with awareness. I knew that voice, that teasing tone. It had been haunting me for months.
“Samir!” Fleur jumped up from the table and launched herself at her cousin.
I turned, time moving in slow motion. Fragmented images and thoughts flew at me. Flashes back to that night—his body pressing into me, his hands molding my curves, his lips devouring mine—mixed with the reality of Samir in the flesh. My gaze ran over his body, drinking in the sight of him.
He’d cut his hair. The black curls I’d once run my fingers through were shorter now. The skin I’d kissed, tasted on my tongue, was a deeper tan. Whatever he’d done this summer, clearly he’d spent time in the sun. Impossibly, he looked better than I remembered. His shoulders looked broader, his body toned and hard. The memory of his naked flesh, his muscled chest, his abs...
I flushed.
Would I always look at Samir and see him naked?
It was an excellent trick and exquisite torture all rolled into one. Just being here—a foot away from him—was enough to tempt me. I ached to reach out, brush my fingers against his skin, and curl into that warmth.
And then I heard that voice again—sexy and sultry, the husky tone winding its way through my body, sending a shiver in its wake. I could drown in his voice.
“Hi, Maggie.”
Samir
IT WAS LIKE being punched in the chest. Fuck me.
She sat there, inches away. All I could do was stare like a man lost in the desert, faced with a mirage. I could smell her perfume; the memory of that subtle scent had been driving me crazy for months. I remembered exactly what it smelled like on her naked body. Remembered kissing every inch of her gorgeous skin, nibbling on her, my tongue tracing patterns across her flesh.
The rush of arousal hit me like another punch.
“Samir? Are you paying attention?”
I jerked my gaze away from Maggie, taking one last look before turning to face my cousin. I slid a smile on my face, struggling to get my body under control. I’d known it would be weird seeing Maggie after...well, after seeing all of her. But this?
Somehow I’d missed the memo that seeing her under the harsh cafeteria lights, surrounded by the aroma of crappy food and the presence of other students, would make me want to take her back to my room and strip her bare. Hell, at this point a cafeteria table would have worked.
I wanted to bury myself in her body.
“Samir.”
“Give me a minute, Fleur.”
I needed a moment. A moment of quiet before I had to look back at her. I needed a moment to get my shit under control.
“I’m tired, Fleur. I just flew in from Beirut. Excuse me if my response time’s a little delayed.”
Fleur rolled her eyes. “There seems to be a lot of jet lag going around.”
I looked over at Maggie. Her head was turned, her gaze focused on the plate in front of her, her face partially hidden by the curtain of her brown hair. I remembered all too well having her hair wrapped around my fist, pulling her head back, capturing those lips—
“Samir. Are you going to sit, or are you just going to stand there staring?”
“Chill,” I muttered through gritted teeth, sliding into the chair next to Fleur so I could have a perfect, uninterrupted view of Maggie. If only she’d look at me.
“So how was Lebanon?”
“Fine.” I needed to get Fleur on another subject fast. Lebanon was the last thing I wanted to talk about right now.
“How’s your girlfriend?”
The word “girlfriend” passed so easily from Fleur’s lips, sending a wave of dread through me.
My head filled with curse words—in English, French and Arabic. That was the beauty of my French and Lebanese heritage—although there was always a part of me that felt caught between two cultures, two worlds, it did give me a wealth of profanity to choose from. I settled for merde.
I couldn’t look at her now. This wasn’t how I’d imagined this going down. I needed a chance to talk to her—to explain in private, without Fleur and the rest of the damned school listening in.
But Fleur had said the word I’d been dreading, the word I’d never wanted Maggie to hear from anyone but me. Hell, let’s be real, I would rather have eaten glass than told her what Fleur had casually let slip.
I didn’t want to look at Maggie. I couldn’t look at Maggie. I owed her an explanation—an apology—so much more than I could give her. Instead I froze, unable to think of anything to save this moment.
Her head jerked up from the plate, the anger flashing across her face a knife slashing me open. But it was nothing compared to the hurt that followed, clouding her beautiful brown eyes. Shame filled me. Not for the first time, I wished I could go back and undo everything that had happened this summer. I wished things were different. I wished I were different. I’d never been one for regrets. Until now. Until her.
This girl brought me to my fucking knees.
CHAPTER TWO
Maggie
GIRLFRIEND.
The word pierced me, knocking the breath out of me. I sat there, staring, watching it play out in front of me. It was one of those moments when my world lurched to a crashing stop.
I waited. Waited for him to laugh and say he’d broken up with her. Waited for him to look at me. Waited for something—some sign—to let me know I hadn’t been an idiot all summer, lusting after a guy who didn’t even want me. I waited for words that never came. My heart—the one I’d sworn was never engaged—broke a little bit.
I was such an idiot.
I’d known there was a possibility
