“How’s Asher?” Rudy asked Laila slyly when she approached. Laila shot Tahi a condemning glance.
“Hey, why do you assume I gave you away?” Tahi defended.
“I don’t think Asher would,” Laila said.
“You’re right. He wouldn’t,” Jim said levelly. Laila gave Asher’s friend a small smile for his loyalty.
“But Zara would,” Tahi muttered.
Laila rolled her eyes and glanced over at her cousin, who was in the process of drinking from a silver flask. She giggled loudly at something Eric said.
“Has she been drinking?” Laila asked, frowning.
“Not much. I don’t think, anyway. That flask isn’t very big,” Tahi said, standing and grabbing her beach cover-up.
“Zara, we’re going,” Laila called. Zara sat up partially and cast a sullen glance their way. When Eric kissed her neck seductively, she turned her attention back to him. Their mouths met and clung. Laila watched, her brow creased in worry, as Eric pushed her cousin back on the towel and kissed her deeply.
What right have you got to be worried about her, when you were doing the same with Asher a half hour ago?
Maybe she was worried about both Zar
a and herself.
“Rudy asked us to go to Asher’s place tomorrow night. We’re going out on Asher’s boat, and then we’ll cook out and swim,” Tahi said as she picked up her beach towel and shoved it in her bag. “Did you know his family owns the white house?” she asked with incredulous excitement.
Laila nodded.
“Hey . . . is that where you two met this afternoon? His place?”
“No,” Laila said, helping her cousin pick up her belongings from the beach. “And you know your brother is going to be here tomorrow night. We won’t be able to get away.”
“No, Zarif has to leave at four to take his precious Mina to some hospital benefit. We’ll be free,” Tahi said, giving first Laila, then Rudy a significant glance. Rudy grinned.
“We’ll see,” Laila said distractedly. For the moment, her only concern was unpeeling Eric from Zara so that they could get back in time for dinner.
• • •
Thankfully, her mother was over at her aunt Nadine’s cottage helping to prepare the dinner when Laila got home. Her father, Zarif, Noor and her uncles had gone fishing on a rented boat. Laila rushed into the only bathroom in the cottage, desperate for some privacy, wild to be alone with her thoughts.
She felt restless and tense as she stood under the hot spray of the shower. She kept reliving the moments in Asher’s arms, when their bodies were sealed tight together . . . the moment he’d lifted her so effortlessly, and his rigid erection had slid against her sex.
Her hand slid between her thighs. She touched herself, her finger coming away slick from her previous arousal.
Her present one.
She couldn’t rid herself of memories of him. He remained in her blood and in her flesh, even though he was miles away. A fever had settled on her. The water suddenly felt too hot. She turned it to a cool setting, willing the water to soothe her simmering, tense body. It wasn’t working. Her hand pressed between her thighs again. Her eyes shut, and she vividly saw Asher’s fierce gaze as he looked down at her. He’d looked like he’d wanted to eat her alive—
“Laila, hurry up. Mamma has to use the bathroom!”
She jumped guiltily at the sound of her mother’s loud voice just feet away on the other side of the closed door.
How could I have ever liked staying in this tiny little house? I feel like I’m being smothered.
“Just a second, Mamma,” she yelled, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. She immediately felt doubly guilty about it, because Mamma Sophia, her grandmother, whom she adored, was probably standing next to her mom in the hall and had heard her rude tone.
She hurriedly finished washing, feeling flustered and strained and guilty, her nerves still prickly from unfulfilled arousal.
• • •