Buch lesen: «London Falling»
We weren’t a relationship, we were a ticking time bomb...
Maggie Carpenter walked away from the hottest encounter of her life when she left the seductive glitz of England for summer break in her South Carolina hometown. Now that she’s returned to the International School in London—and sexy, privileged Samir Khouri is once again close enough to touch—she can’t help but remember the attraction, the drama...the heartbreak.
She can’t help but want him even more.
Samir can’t afford to fall for someone so far removed from his world, not when his time in London is running out. It’s his senior year—his last chance at freedom before he returns home to Lebanon. There, he’ll be expected to follow in his father’s footsteps—not follow his heart to Maggie. But when a scorching secret hookup becomes a temptation neither can resist, they’ll both have to fight to survive the consequences...and find a future together.
Don’t miss this explosive sequel to I See London, and the riveting conclusion to Maggie and Samir’s story. This is a New Adult romance recommended for readers 17 and up.
London
Falling
Chanel Cleeton
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Acknowledgments
Teaser Note
Extract
About the Author
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
Maggie
I WASN’T LOOKING FOR Samir. At least that’s what I told myself.
I shouldn’t be looking for Samir.
“We spent most of the summer in St. Tropez. You should have seen the guys. There was this one guy...” Fleur took a sip of her soda, her brown eyes sparkling. She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “He was so fine. You would have died.”
I flashed her an easy smile, my gaze glued to the door behind her. Classes started tomorrow. Where the hell was he?
“How was the U.S.?”
I tore my gaze away from the cafeteria door, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Which I pretty much was, come to think of it.
“It was fine.” Boring. Frustrating. Agonizing.
I turned my head to the side. The entrance was just barely visible out of the corner of my eye. Come on. Three more students walked in, laughing and talking about their summer break. My heart sank. One boy was tan, his skin more yellow than the caramel color I’d come to love. Like. Whatever.
“Are you listening?” Fleur’s voice was impatient, two shades away from pissed off, as she nudged my plate. “You seem like you’re somewhere else.”
“I heard you,” I lied with ease, turning my body toward the open doorway and glancing at the clock against the wall. The dining hall closed in fifteen minutes. If he was going to make our first family dinner back at school, time was running out.
I shouldn’t have cared. I should have known better than this. I shouldn’t have been sitting here waiting, my stomach in knots, my nerves frayed. I’d already made it through four months with only two one-line texts from him. What was another day?
Everything.
I tore my attention from the empty doorway, the gaping hole taunting me. “Is anyone else joining us?” I asked Fleur, my voice deceptively casual. I couldn’t say his name, but I was desperate to hear it. He was a secret I both wanted to keep and needed to spill.
I’d spent the whole summer in South Carolina talking about him to my friends back home, until even my best friend, Jo, was sick of hearing about my boy woes. Sadly that was saying a lot, considering how boy-crazy Jo could be.
“No idea where Mya is. She’s been MIA practically all summer. I think her parents’ divorce is hitting her hard. Michael said something about the two of them going out to dinner with other friends.”
Mya split her vacation time between her home in Nigeria and her family’s flat in London, where her father worked for the Nigerian Embassy. Last year she’d discovered he was cheating on her mother and apparently over the summer he’d asked for a divorce. Mya was spending most of her time with her mom and not speaking to her dad. She seemed to be handling it pretty well, all things considered. But still—Mya’s priority right now was her family.
I waited for Fleur to continue, to say the one name that had been flooding my head all summer long. But in classic Fleur fashion, it appeared she was going to make me work for it.
“And Samir?” I kept my gaze trained on my plate, memorizing the china’s webbed pattern, hoping she hadn’t heard the hitch in my voice.
Fleur shrugged in that wonderfully French way that reminded me of him. A wave of nostalgia crashed over me. It had been four months, after all.
“No idea. You know how Samir is, you can’t exactly predict what he’s going to do next.”
No kidding. Not being able to predict Samir’s moves was exactly what got me into this mess in the first place. Not that I regretted our one night together. I just wished to hell he’d given me more to go on than a text the morning after, followed by a cryptic one in July. Even worse?
There hadn’t even been a chance for me to casually interact with him online. Trust me to hook up with the one guy who seemed allergic to social media. Maybe it was a Lebanese thing? Or more likely a Samir thing. He wouldn’t deign to do what everyone else did. He was a giant pain in my ass. Too bad I sort of liked it.
I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, not bothering to resist the urge to smooth down any stray flyaways. My hair was just the tip of the iceberg; brand-new black sandals adorned my feet, their height more aptly suited to a nightclub than a university cafeteria. Relentless workouts at the gym, combined with endless overtime hours, had squeezed my curvy five-four frame into a pair of designer jeans so expensive, I’d been too afraid to eat for fear of spilling. A new black halter top completed the look that an hour ago I thought had screamed “I look good without trying to” but now felt more like “I’m desperate over here.”
Losing my virginity was making me crazy.
“Maggie!”
I jerked my head up. Fleur stared back at me, an annoyed expression on her face.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, my cheeks heating.
“What is up with you?” Her tone was a mix of concern and petulance. Classic Fleur.
For the millionth time, I wanted to tell her. Last semester on my last night in London I lost my virginity to your cousin and I can’t stop thinking about 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 this would happen. I’d known it even when I’d gone to bed with him. He’d had a girlfriend then, and there had been no promises, no guarantees. Nothing beyond the way he looked at me, the way he touched me. He’d never given me the words, just the fire and passion that changed everything.
But the revelation still shattered me.
I escaped from the cafeteria in a mad dash, mumbling some ridiculous excuse that had Fleur looking at me in surprise and Samir staring down at the floor. He should be staring at the floor. A strangled gasp pushed through the anger. Months. Months since we’d had sex, and not so much as a phone call or an email or a freaking message in a bottle. Just a lame text that had come in the middle of the night in July. Months of me dragging my lazy ass to the gym, eating non-fat yogurt, and hitting the tanning bed every free chance I had.
When he’d sent me that first text after our night together and I’d read those words—Last night was amazing. We should do it again. Often. See you next year. Xxxx—I’d actually believed it. Our one night together had been amazing. So amazing that four months later I was still reliving it in my thoughts and in my dreams.
And he was still with his girlfriend.
How could he? Did he sleep with his arms curled around her like he had with me? Did he hold her body against his? Did he kiss her lips like he’d kissed mine?
How could he do what he’d done with me with someone else, when I couldn’t so much as look at another guy?
I pushed open the door to our room, anger and hurt flooding me, building to a stunning crescendo. I stopped short at the sight of Mya staring at me with a worried expression on her face.
“You seem upset.”
“I’ve been better.”
The three of us were roommates this year—me, Mya and Fleur. I’d felt guilty about leaving our old roommate, Noora, but she’d found an off-campus apartment and seemed happy with her new living arrangement. Moments like these I wished I had a single.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Mya more than anyone would think I was an idiot for fooling around with Samir. She’d told me from the beginning that he had “bad idea” written all over him. She’d been right—and wrong. Mya hadn’t been there to see how amazing he’d been when we’d lost Fleur in Venice during fall break. Or how kind he’d been the night I’d found out my dad was marrying a complete stranger. She didn’t know Samir could look at you and make you feel like you were the most beautiful girl in the world. Or that he could kiss you like he was drowning and you were his lifeline. She didn’t know he could make you laugh until your sides ached, or make you smile so hard your cheeks hurt.
It would have been easy to chalk up my night with Samir as a big mistake if he really were the player everyone seemed to think he was. I didn’t blame them for thinking that. I’d seen the girls who fell into his lap at clubs. I wasn’t stupid. The boy had moves—in bed and everywhere else. His rep was well-earned. But he was still more.
The more was what kept me up at night, reliving our conversations, basking in the memory of our kisses. The more meant I was basically screwed.
I pushed the golf ball-sized lump out of my throat. I wanted to be alone and yet I didn’t. Sitting in this room, reliving that night with Samir over and over again in my head, would drive me nuts. There were ghosts here. Ghosts in every hallway, every stairway, in the cafeteria and common room. Memories of last year I couldn’t seem to shake off no matter how hard I tried.
In the beginning, he’d just been this guy I’d met on my first day at the International School—a guy who, embarrassingly enough, had accidentally seen me naked. I didn’t know then that he would become my friend, or be the one I’d share my first kiss with. And I’d never expected him to become someone I couldn’t live without.
He’d been single for most of the year, so when he’d casually mentioned he was dating someone, it had been a shock. I knew everyone said it was an arranged relationship, one his parents wanted for him, but that still didn’t ease the ache inside me, and I had no clue how to push past it. I needed a distraction.
“Do you want to go out?”
“Tonight? The night before our first day of classes? On a Sunday?” Mya looked at me like I had three heads.
I shrugged, the idea forming, taking root. Alcohol and dancing might be the only things that would make this disaster better.
“It’s only the first day. At most we’re going to read the syllabus. I bet none of our classes will even go past the first half hour.” Not to mention the fact that over half the student body routinely blew off the first week of classes. “Besides, it’s London, there are a ton of bars and clubs open on Sunday. It’ll be fun.”
“Okay, what have you done with the real Maggie?”
I flashed her an easy grin. “Maybe this is the new-and-improved-Maggie.”
I’d done the moping-over-a-guy thing for way too long. If Samir wanted to walk away and pretend nothing existed between us, fine. But I wasn’t going to wait around for him. Last year I’d spent too much time obsessing over Hugh, the twenty-seven-year-old British bar owner I’d casually dated. Not to mention how much of my freshman year I’d spent in knots over Samir.
This year was going to be different. It had to be.
“Are you sure everything’s all right?”
The concern in Mya’s voice was what made her an amazing friend. She was the first person I’d befriended freshman year and was easily the nicest person I’d ever met. Unfortunately right now I needed less emotion, and more champagne and dancing on tables. I needed Fleur.
“I’m fine. Just a little stir-crazy. I spent months in the U.S. not being able to drink and hanging out with my grandparents. I love them and all, but I kinda need to have some fun. You in?”
Mya grinned. “Fine, I’m in. But it’ll be your fault when I fall asleep in class.”
“Fair enough.”
I grabbed my phone and shot off a quick text to Fleur.
Drinks. Dancing. Tonight. No boys.
Ten minutes later, Fleur waltzed into the room. “So where are we headed?”
“You tell me. What’s the new, hot place no one can get into?”
With a model’s body and a socialite’s wardrobe, Fleur was the epitome of trendy. Long, sleek brown hair, big brown eyes and the kind of tan it took a tanning bed for me to achieve made her a knockout. Her personality made her trouble—the kind you couldn’t resist. Despite our rocky start freshman year, she was now one of my best friends.
Last year had been rough for her, and she didn’t seem to want to party as hard as she used to, but she was still the go-to for social advice. I figured she needed to let off steam as much as I did.
“I like where your head is at. There’s this place called Air.”
“Seriously? What kind of name is that?”
Clubs in London tended toward edgy, one-word names, as I’d learned last year. The décor may have differed between clubs, but there were always a few staples you could count on—overpriced drinks, half-naked girls, and plenty of drama.
“It’s an oxygen bar.”
I had to laugh at that one. These were the moments when I felt the furthest away from my unremarkable life back in South Carolina.
“Of course it is.”
* * *
ONE OF THE benefits of my not-so-glamorous summer job in retail was the employee discount. At a school like the International School, being on scholarship made it tough, if not impossible, to keep up with everyone else. My bags weren’t Gucci or Prada; my shoes weren’t Jimmy Choo or Giuseppe Zanotti. But thanks to my discount, I had a whole new wardrobe of cute dresses. I would never look like I’d walked off the runway like Fleur, but it was good enough for me.
We were in full-on pre-gaming mode—loud house music blared through Fleur’s computer speakers. I was more of a hip-hop fan, but I wasn’t complaining. We’d gotten into this habit last year—pre-gaming in our room before a night out. Having Mya here as a roommate made it so much better. We traded hair and makeup tips, shared outfits, and did some dancing and drinking while we got ready.
I’d missed them desperately these past few months.
“You guys all set?” Fleur asked, a wide smile on her face.
This summer had been good for her. She seemed lighter, happier. Last year had been rough. Her boyfriend, Costa, had dumped her before the start of the semester for another girl at the International School, but then continued to fool around with Fleur, making her believe he really cared. I hadn’t understood why she was so connected to him until she’d told me about her accidental pregnancy—and subsequent miscarriage. It had all come crashing down around her at the end of last year when Fleur had learned how fickle he really was, a devastating loss that had pushed her into a drug overdose. It had been a scary wake-up call for all of us, but one Fleur had seemed to need.
The Fleur standing in front of me was laughing and smiling again, some of the sadness erased from her. She finally seemed to be over Costa. Now I just needed to find her a nice guy—the right guy. Given how things had ended last semester, with him bringing her flowers in the hospital, I had high hopes for my friend George.
I grabbed my purse off the bed, weaving slightly as I walked. A summer of not drinking was catching up with me, and my normally low alcohol tolerance seemed even lower than usual.
I followed Mya and Fleur out of the room, excitement and anticipation filling me.
I loved nights like this—unplanned, full of possibilities. For me, London was one big adventure—you never knew what to expect or what the night might bring. London was like a drug—an incredible high you never wanted to come off of. It made you feel like you could do anything, be anyone. You could reinvent yourself in a city like this.
This time last year I’d been nervous and unsure of myself. The International School had been a glamorous, intimidating place that made me feel like an impostor, playing dress-up and trying to fit in. Now I belonged.
“Going somewhere?” a voice called out.
I looked up and my gaze instantly connected with Samir’s.
Samir
I DIDN’T KNOW where to look first.
In the cafeteria I’d been afraid to sneak more than a glance at her, sure that if I did, the whole school would see what I wanted—who I wanted. But she’d left so quickly—fled when Fleur dropped her little bombshell—and I’d lost my chance. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. This time I looked my fill.
Her brown hair seemed longer than it had been in May. It fell past her shoulders, the ends just barely grazing the top of her tits. I swallowed, my mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara. Her dress, some sort of strappy thing, left little to the imagination—and I had a pretty vivid imagination and memory—and showed off her tanned, tight little body. It ended just under her curvy ass, exposing plenty of leg.
For a moment I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t look her in the eye. I was two steps away from maneuvering Maggie up against the wall and getting under that dress, audience or not.
“Girls’ night,” Fleur answered, oblivious to the tenuous grip I kept on my sanity.
I looked away from Maggie, my gaze traveling over the three of them. They were all dressed to kill tonight. Fleur smirked back at me. Mya’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for one awful moment, I wondered if she’d seen my reaction. Maggie still wouldn’t look at me.
“Where are you headed?” I asked Fleur, trying to keep my voice casual. I hated the tension running through my body, the possessiveness flooding me. It was a new experience, one that wasn’t entirely welcome.
“That new club, Air.”
Awesome. It was exactly the kind of place Fleur would choose. It would likely be full of B-list actors and athletes and flashy new-money. In that dress, they’d be all over Maggie.
No way.
I couldn’t help it. I had to know if she hated me. I turned my attention away from Fleur, my gaze lingering over Maggie’s body, before reaching her eyes.
She flinched and looked back down at the floor.
I needed to explain to her about Layla. If she wasn’t going to give me a chance to get close to her, I would take it.
“I’ll come with you guys.”
