Chapter Three
A limo ride, several city blocks, and two appletinis later, Laine and Aziz were back out on a dance floor. This time, though, with the lights lowered and other people dancing around them, Laine started to forget where they were and who was around them. Oh, she was vaguely aware that there were other people at the club and one of Aziz’s scary, bald-headed bodyguards was discreetly lurking somewhere, but none of that was at the forefront of her mind. Nothing was, aside from the raw physicality of Aziz as he danced, the energy crackling around them both, and the beat of the music reverberating throughout every atom in the club.
Laine had rarely been to clubs in the city; she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone dancing, or the last time she’d gone anywhere with a guy without having planned it out several weeks in advance. On the way over, that had made her a little nervous. She’d barely put any thought into leaving the party with a man she didn’t even know. But something about Aziz was so tremendously honest that she couldn’t believe that he was anything other than what he seemed. Even if it turned out the bit about being a sheikh was bunk—though she doubted it—Aziz presented himself as a man in control, invested in having a pleasurable evening, and confident that he could ensure that however and with whomever he wanted. Laine was good at reading people, unless he was a method actor.
The lights strobed over them in blues and greens, turning the dancers into ethereal turquoise revelers. The music pumped and swelled, and the two of them moved together. First their eyes were locked on one another as they danced, not touching but close enough to feel one another’s heat. Then Aziz took her hand, as though to keep her close, even though she wasn’t going anywhere. Laine smiled and turned her back to him, keeping their fingers woven together above her shoulder as she looked up and back at him. She grinned, causing him to smile as well. Aziz reached around her, moving his hand first down her stomach, then along the front of her thigh. Their bodies rolled along with the music as one.
When the music changed, Aziz leaned over to press a kiss to the curve of her neck. Laine closed her eyes and felt something releasing inside of her, like a cord pulled tight that had just been unhooked. Her breaths came more frequently, more deeply. She squeezed Aziz’s fingers and arched her neck to give him access, which he boldly claimed. There would be no question, if anyone had been looking, that she was his for the evening. Not that anyone was looking, and that in itself was freeing, too. Everyone here was their own audience, and no one else’s. Everyone here, including the two of them, was immersed in their own private party.
So they danced on, fueled by the adrenaline and exuberant joy that dancing brings, causing the heart to lighten and the joints feel loose and eager, until Aziz touched her hair and leaned close to her ear.
“Come with me!”
Laine turned her head, uncertain if she’d heard him right. The music was so loud. Aziz pulled on her hand, and she turned to follow him. Quickly, she recognized where they were headed. She knew this club and the owner well. She had been assigned to the recent redesign. They wove through the crowd and then up a steep winding flight of metal stairs that led to the second level and the private, restricted rooftop area. The security guard by the large door that led outside gave Aziz a nod and opened it for them. There was only one other couple there, sitting off to the side and talking quietly.
“Have you been here before?” Laine asked.
“Sometimes, when I am in the city.”
She drew in the fresh air. Lights were strung along the top of the awning, creating a cozy, twilight effect. In the center of the patio a large fountain babbled away. She smiled, remembering how she’d convinced the owner to have it installed. Laine walked slowly toward the seating area where Aziz reclined, his arm spread over the back of the sofa and one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. She could imagine him lounging exactly that way upon a golden throne with red velvet seats, as men on either side fanned him.
“Come closer.” Aziz smirked and gave a quick jerk of his chin to summon her forward.
Laine took a seat next to him, but left half a seat of space between them. He smiled at her, lounging back languidly like a great cat lazily observing prey he could grasp at any time. With a raised hand, he caught the attention of a waiter who stood nearby the other couple and ordered him to bring them some water.
“You are having a good time now?”
Laine smoothed her hands over her legs, banishing a few wrinkles from her dress. “It’s much better than the party, I’ll admit. I didn’t think I was the clubbing type of girl.”
“What type of girl do you think you are?” he asked.
“The workaholic type.” She lifted her eyes and pursed her lips knowingly. “The type that your type usually ignores.”
Aziz smiled and caught her hand. He stroked his thumb over her fingers. “And what type of man am I? You’ve figured me out so soon?”
“Don’t you know yourself?” Laine teased. “You're the ruthless playboy, aren’t you? You could’ve brought any woman from that party here.”
“Could have, yes,” Aziz agreed. “Would have…?”
“Are you going to deny it? How many women have you seduced away from parties? How often do you take a woman in your limo and show her the time of her life?” Laine challenged.
Aziz rubbed his fingers over his lips. “Perhaps a few,” he replied demurely.
“A few.” Laine narrowed her eyes.
“Perhaps more than a few.” Aziz shrugged and held his hands out. “I am who I am. Are you disappointed with this?”
“No, I—” Laine turned as the waiter put down two cold glass bottles of water. “Thank you!”
Aziz looked up at the waiter briefly before turning to Laine again. Laine watched the waiter leave.
“Do sheikhs not say thank you?” she asked.
“He was doing his job,” Aziz said flatly. “Americans are so strange. You are generous and kind to strangers, but cold to everyone else.”
“How are we cold?” Laine shook her head with a laugh.
Another shrug. “When we meet, you talk about your job, about things that don’t matter, but not your family. I think you don’t value these things the way we do. You care more about what the man who brings the water feels.”
“I told you who my sister was,” Laine pointed out. “I don’t have a noble lineage to recite, or anything.”
“And your father? Your mother?”
Laine opened her water and took a long drink. “Americans talk about their families with people they know and trust. It’s separate for us. But if you really need to know, my dad lives upstate.”
“Ah.” Aziz leaned forward, trailing his fingers along Laine’s cheek. “Americans like to separate things out, so they can pretend that one feeling goes here, and another here.” His fingers moved slowly down her neck. “But everything is connected to emotion.”
Laine’s eyes flickered to where the other couple had been sitting, but they’d disappeared.
“You cannot cut your life up and put it into separate boxes, even if you believe it would be more convenient to do so,” he whispered breathily, leaning in close to her.
“I can try!” Laine argued.
Aziz looked surprised and then laughed. “Maybe that’s why I like you American women so much—you make us work for the things we desire the most!”
“Is that what you really desire the most?” Laine took the hand that had been hovering around her collarbone and looked Aziz in the eye as she moved it away.
He seemed about to laugh again, his eyes twinkling mischievously. He somehow had closed the distance between the two of them, and he was practically on top of her now. He could do what he wanted with her out here. He could scoop her up and have his way with her, right here on the sofa. No one was watching. But he didn’t make a move, just stared at her intently, waiting.
“What do you desire most, Aziz?” Laine asked. She let go of his hand and leaned back onto her palms, waiting for his answer. The low cut of her dress and the movement caused her chest to give a small bounce, and of course, this was exactly where Aziz’s eyes had fallen.
“Laine, I am not entirely certain who is seducing whom here,” Aziz said.
“No? I’m hardly the practiced playboy here.”
“Maybe you simply have an innate skill,” Aziz suggested. “Maybe it is just me who is caught so fast by your allure…though it is unlikely.”
He placed his hand on her thigh. His touch was light, but Laine tensed anyway in anticipation. She listened to his breathing for a moment, and when he moved to take his hand away, sensing her discomfort, she put her hand over his. His brows rose. His hand moved slowly up her thigh. The gauzy material of her dress slid up with it, and Laine shuddered.
She gently touched his cheek and gave him a kiss. His hand stilled, squeezing the top of her thigh as he returned the kiss eagerly. With his other hand cradling the back of her head, Aziz deepened the kiss, and his hand sneaked ever higher. Laine began to squirm, and her heart raced.
“Not here,” she murmured, pulling away quickly.
Aziz looked down, his eyes unfocused and his brows deeply furrowed. “Of course.”
He stood abruptly, took a few steps, and then turned to look at Laine. He shook his head and walked over to the fountain.
“I’m sorry,” Laine said.
“I don’t know what you are apologizing for.” Aziz ran his hands through his hair. “You excite much passion in me, but the duty to contain it should be mine.”
Laine rose and started walking toward him. Aziz kicked off his shoes, and Laine stared for a moment. Then he climbed up on the edge of the fountain.
“What are you doing?!” Laine laughed.
“Cooling off!” Aziz held his arms out and fell backwards into the fountain.